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A group of rapists and date rapists in prison were interviewed on what they look for in a potential victim and here are some interesting facts:

The first thing men look for in a potential victim is hairstyle. They are most likely to go after a woman with a ponytail, bun, braid or other hairstyle that can easily be grabbed. They are also likely to go after a woman with long hair. Women with short hair are not common targets.

The second thing men look for is clothing. They will look for women who's clothing is easy to remove quickly. Many of them carry scissors around to cut clothing.

They also look for women on their cell phone, searching through their purse or doing other activities while walking because they are off guard and can be easily overpowered.

The time of day men are most likely to attack and rape a woman is in the early morning, between 5 and 8:30 a.m. The number one place women are abducted from/attacked at is grocery store parking lots. Number two is office parking lots/garages. Number three is public restrooms.

The thing about these men is that they are looking to grab a woman and quickly move her to a second location where they don't have to worry about getting caught.

Only 2% said they carried weapons because rape carries a 3-5 year sentence but rape with a weapon is 15-20 years.

If you put up any kind of a fight at all, they get discouraged because it only takes a minute or two for them to realize that going after you isn't worth it because it will be time-consuming.

These men said they would not pick on women who have umbrellas, or other similar objects that can be used from a distance, in their hands. Keys are not a deterrent because you have to get really close to the attacker to use them as a weapon. So, the idea is to convince these guys you're not worth it.

Several defense mechanisms he taught us are: If someone is following behind you on a street or in a garage or with you in an elevator or stairwell, look them in the face and ask them a question, like, "What time is it?", or make general small talk, "I can't believe it is so cold out here, we're in for a bad winter." Now you've seen their face and could identify them in a line-up, you lose appeal as a target.

If someone is coming toward you, hold out your hands in front of you and yell "Stop!" or "Stay back!" Most of the rapists this man talked to said they'd leave a woman alone if she yelled or showed that she would not be afraid to fight back. Again, they are looking for an EASY target.

If you carry pepper spray (this instructor was a huge advocate of it and carries it with him wherever he goes,) yelling "I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY" and holding it out will be a deterrent.

If someone grabs you, you can't beat them with strength but you can by outsmarting them. If you are grabbed around the waist from behind, pinch the attacker either under the arm between the elbow and armpit or in the upper inner thigh - HARD. One woman in a class this guy taught told him she used the underarm pinch on a guy who was trying to date rape her and was so upset she broke through the skin and tore out muscle strands - the guy needed stitches. Try pinching yourself in those places as hard as you can stand it; it hurts.

After the initial hit, always go for the groin. I know from a particularly unfortunate experience that if you slap a guy's parts it is extremely painful. You might think that you'll anger the guy and make him want to hurt you more, but the thing these rapists told our instructor is that they want a woman who will not cause a lot of trouble. Start causing trouble, and he's out of there.

When the guy puts his hands up to you, grab his first two fingers and bend them back as far as possible with as much pressure pushing down on them as possible. The instructor did it to me without using much pressure, and I ended up on my knees and both knuckles cracked audibly.

Of course the things we always hear still apply. Always be aware of your surroundings, take someone with you if you can and if you see any odd behavior, don't dismiss it, go with your instincts. You may feel a little silly at the time, but you'd feel much worse if the guy really was trouble.

A store owner was tacking a sign above his door that read "Puppies For Sale." Signs like that have a way of attracting small children, and sure enough, a little boy appeared under the store owner's sign. "How much are you going to sell the puppies for?" he asked.

The store owner replied, "Anywhere from $30 to $50."

The little boy reached in his pocket and pulled out some change. "I have $2.37," he said. "Can I please look at them?"

The store owner smiled and whistled and out of the kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his store followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur. One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said, "What's wrong with that little dog?"

The store owner explained that the veterinarian had examined the little puppy and had discovered it didn't have a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame. The little boy became excited. "That is the puppy that I want to buy."

The store owner said, "No, you don't want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I'll just give him to you."

The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the store owner's eyes, pointing his finger, and said, "I don't want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I'll pay full price. In fact, I'll give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I have him paid for."

The store owner countered, "You really don't want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play with you like the other puppies."

To this, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the store owner and softly replied, "Well, I don't run so well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands!"

"It's impossible."
All things are possible. (Luke 18:27)

"I'm too tired."
I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28-30)

"Nobody really loves me."
I love you (John 3:16 & John 13:34)

"I can't go on."
My grace is sufficient. (II Corinthians 12:9 & Psalm 91:15)

"I can't figure things out."
I will direct your steps. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

"I can't do it."
You can do all things. (Phillipians 4:13)

"I'm not able"
I am able. (II Corinthians 9:8)

"It's not worth it."
It will be worth it. (Romans 8:28)

"I can't forgive myself."
I forgive you. (I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1)

"I can't manage."
I will supply all your needs. (Phillipians 4:19)

"I'm afraid."
I have not given you a spirit of fear. (II Timothy 1:7)

"I'm always worried and frustrated."
Cast all your cares on Me. (I Peter 5:7)

"I don't have enough faith."
I've given everyone a measure of faith. (Romans 12:3)

"I'm not smart enough."
I give you wisdom. (I Corinthians 1:30)

"I feel all alone."
I will never leave you or forsake you. (Hebrews 13:5)

by MANFRED KOEHLER

Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. The flashing red in his rearview mirror insisted he pull over quickly, but Jack let the car coast. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?

When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.

He slumped into his seat, the collar of his trench coat covering his ears. He tapped the steering wheel, doing his best to look bored, his eyes on the mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big ticket pad in hand.

Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow. Jack was tempted to leave the window shut long enough to gain the psychological edge but decided on a different tack. Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.

"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."

"Hello, Jack." No smile.

"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."

"Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.

"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit-just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct."

Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.

"What'd you clock me at?"

"Seventy-one. Would you sit back in your car, please?"

"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.

"Please, Jack, in the car."

Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license? Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again.

A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip. "Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.

Bob returned to his car without a word.

Jack watched his retreat in the mirror, bottom teeth scratching his upper lip. When Bob vanished inside his car, jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?

Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket.

Jack began to read:

Dear Jack,
Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it-a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters. All three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had; maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have left.
Bob

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his trench coat. Then he twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he, too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

The Silent Sermon

author unknown

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A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services regularly, stopped going. After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit him.

It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone, sitting before ablazing fire. Guessing the reason for his pastor's visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a big chair near the fireplace and waited. The pastor made himself comfortable but said nothing. In the grave silence, he contemplated the play of the flames around the burning logs.

After some minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent. The host watched all this in quiet fascination.

As the one lone ember's flame diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon it was cold and "dead as a doornail."

Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting.

Just before the pastor was ready to leave, he picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.

As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said, "Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I shall be back in church next Sunday."

The Rabbi and the Soap Maker

author unknown

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A rabbi and a soap maker went for a walk together. The soap maker said, "What good is religion? Look at all the trouble and misery of the world! They are still there, even after years--thousands of years--of teaching about goodness and truth and peace. Still there, after all the prayers and sermons and teachings. If religion is good and true, why should this be?"

The rabbi said nothing. They continued walking until he noticed a child playing in the gutter.

Then the rabbi said, "Look at that child. You say that soap makes people clean, but see the dirt on that youngster. Of what good is soap? With all the soap in the world, over all these years, the child is still filthy. I wonder how effective soap is, after all!"

The soap maker protested. "But, Rabbi, soap cannot do any good unless it is used!"

"Exactly!" replied the rabbi.

Thank You, Lord

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Lord, thank you for this sink of dirty dishes; we have plenty of food to eat.

Thank you for this pile of dirty, stinky laundry; we have plenty of nice clothes to wear.

And I would like to thank you Lord for those unmade beds; they were so warm and comfortable last night and I know that many have no bed.

My thanks to you, Lord for this bathroom complete with all the splattered mirrors, soggy grimy towels, and dirty toilet; they are so convenient.

Thank you for this finger-smudged refrigerator that needs defrosting so badly; it has served us faithfully for many years. It is full of cold drinks and enough leftovers for two or three meals.

Thank you, Lord, for this oven that absolutely must be cleaned today; it has baked so many things over the years.

The whole family is grateful for that tall grass that needs mowing, the lawn that needs raking; we all enjoy the yard.

Thank you, Lord, even for that slamming screen door; my kids are healthy and able to run and play.

Lord, the presence of all these chores awaiting me says You have richly blessed my family. I shall do them cheerfully and I shall do them gratefully. Amen.

A 4th Course of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Hanoch McCarty & Meladee McCarty

The Prostitute

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John the Dwarf was a very saintly Abba. He was dying and so he called his disciples and told them this story :

"Once there was a prostitute. She had been a wanton woman for many, many years. One day, a handsome young lord was passing by and as soon as he saw her, he fell deeply in love with her. Love at first sight. Wanting to marry her, he proposed to her. Amazed, she replied, "Are you serious? Do you not know who I am?"

But the young nobleman insisted. "Yes, I know who you are, but I love you deeply. I cannot live without you, and I want to marry you." He was crazy about her.

"But I am unclean," she said.

"Don't worry, my love will cleanse you," he persisted.

The woman could hardly believe her good fortune! How could anyone possibly love her? She was filthy, she had slept with many men... And this man was rich, young, handsome. She could hardly believe her luck! This was a godsendÊ blessing.

It took her a long time to decide but eventually she agreed, and they were wed. A sumptuous marriage. He built for themselves a beautiful mansion and gave her all she could ever desire. Indeed, he would try to anticipate her needs. He cherished her dearly. Excessively.

But the men of the village resented this marriage. They had lost a woman whom they had been able to enjoy whenever it suited them. They wanted their 'fun' back. "We must win her back," they argued. "And we shall do it." It will not be that difficult. After all, this woman was and is still a prostitute, even though she is married. Her body, her heart, her passions are just as carnal as ever...."

So they agreed to go and seduce her back into her former life. They did not dare go through the main door. They went to the back door and began whistling for her as they used to do before when they wanted to use her.

The woman heard them. And sure enough she felt torn apart inside. For it was true what the village men thought about her - her passions, her cravings, her yearnings were still as easily aroused as ever. But, on the other hand, how could she forget all that her husband had done for her? He had saved her. He had given her back her dignity as a woman. He had freed her. A mortal tug-of- war raged within her .... between passion and gratitude. "What can I to do?", she kept saying emotionally to herself.

There was only one safe route. And this is what she did.

She rushed to the bedroom where her husband was. She fell on him and started begging him to embrace her and cuddle her close. "Hold me, hold me tight," she kept insisting, "love me, please love me, lest I betray you!"

And the Abba concluded : "My sons, this is the parable of our lives. The prostitute is ourselves, who have often betrayed God and adulterated with other things not-God. But one day a rich, handsome, young man from Nazareth met us. Yes, his name is Jesus Christ. He fell in love with us and wished to marry us. Love at first sight. He knew us. He knew our filth and yet he wished to live an adventure of love and intimacy with us. He is so crazy! Obviously the devils - the men of the village - try their very best to bring us out of our home. They want to exploit us. To maul us. And there is only one way not to succumb and return to our own vomit. Yes, my sons, remember, only ONE way. You also, like the once-prostitute, now wife must run and fall on Him and beg Him frantically to hug you and not let you go. And you know what? He will do it willingly, very willingly."

Yes, we are loved that much. So much!

Covering All the Bases

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A little boy was overheard talking to himself as he strode through his backyard, baseball cap in place and toting ball and bat. "I'm the greatest baseball player in the world." he said proudly. Then he tossed the ball in the air, swung and missed. Undaunted, he picked up the ball, threw it into the air and said to himself, "I'm the greatest baseball player ever!" He swung at the ball again, and again he missed. He paused a moment to examine the bat and ball carefully. Then once again he threw the ball into the air and said, "I'm the greatest baseball player who ever lived." He swung the bat hard and again missed the ball.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "What a pitcher!"

By Source Unknown
from Condensed Chicken Soup for the Soul
Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Patty Hansen

What I Didn't Know Before I Had Kids

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WHAT I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE I HAD KIDS
by Paula Spencer
Parenting, August 1997

By the time I entered motherhood, I thought I knew a lot about life. Or, at least, that I'd collected enough wisdom to scrape by. So it came as a surprise to discover just how much previously unimagined knowledge awaited me -- such parental arcana as:

*How many seconds it takes to microwave four fish sticks perfectly.
*Who John Jacob Jingle Schmitt is.
*How to change a diaper in the dark, in a parked car, on a standing child, and all of the above simultaneously.
*Which lines of The Cat in the Hat and If I Ran the Circus can be skipped over without a child noticing.
*How bright a 3 a.m. full moon is.
*The design marvels of hooded towels, Velcro-strap shoes and mitten clips.
*Locations of public restrooms all over town.
*Why anyone would bother retracing their steps for miles just to retrieve a lost blankie.
*That tigers live in the trees in our backyard.
*The amazing technicolor variety of infant stool.
*How to open a van door while bobbling two lunch boxes, two extra coats, a purse, a diaper bag, and a baby.
*The fine art of vacuuming a floor without hosing up a Barbie shoe or a Playmobile cannonball.
*That solid white socks get lost in the dryer at a much slower rate than do the mates of patterned socks that coordinate to special outfits.
*How little sleep a human body truly needs to function.
*Almost every Disney lyric ever penned.
*How to spell amoxicillin.
*That one can never own too many Sippy cup lids or refrigerator magnets.
*Scientific names of dinosaurs from A to Z.
*That reverse psychology really works.
*The recipe for a homemade version of Play-Doh.
*That Duplo and Lego blocks procreate in the night.
*The distinctive sound of Cheerios crunching underfoot.
*Why they call them Happy Meals.
*The names of the leaders of Celesteville, Busyland, and the Pride Lands (Babar; Mayor Fox; and Mufasa, Scar and Simba).
*How far you can dilute juice and still retain it's taste.
*That man (or child) really can live on peanut butter alone.
*That gender inequality starts early in clothing:Ê Boys' underpants have a wide band on top, while the waistband and leg holes on girls' look the same, increasing the odds that she'll pull 'em on tangled or upside down.
*Sesame Street's air time.
*The remarkable resemblance of a state-of-Florida puzzle piece (or a plastic hammer,Ê a splay-legged Barbie or a piece of cheese sculpted just so by tiny bites) to a gun.
*That the bunny's name isn't Pat.
*Translations ofÊ myella, babana, panyo, snunk, maldations and nibbles (vanilla, banana, piano, skunk, dalmations and nipples).
*That the more my kids learn, the less I seem to know.
*The blessedness of naps, the inviolate importance of routines.

Just For A Minute

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Okay, so this is a little out of season, but since when do you only get to be thankful in November???

THE THANKSGIVING ENVELOPE
by Andrea Nannete Meha
published in Single Parent Family, Nov. 1995

I will never forget our first Thanksgiving as a single-parent family eight years ago.Ê Seven months before, my husband had walked away from our family, leaving me to raise our three children alone.Ê On the wages I was earning, I barely had enough money to make ends meet from week to week.Ê By the middle of that November, I had $2.50 left in my purse to last us for the rest of the month.

On the day before Thanksgiving, two of my three children were down with the flu, so I stayed home from work. All morning, I ran around taking temperatures and wiping noses. Through the pitter-patter of light rain outside our home in Sunland, Calif., I heard the phone ring.

"Hello?" I answered, trying not to drop the thermometer I was shaking.

"How are you, Andrea?" asked a familiar voice. I recognized the voice as that of Sue, a church secretary.

"I'm okay," I explained, "but the kids are sick today."

After chatting a few moments more, Sue asked if I would drop by the church and pick up a holiday gift the congregation wanted to give me. I was on my way to the store to buy a can of soup with the money I had left, so I told her I would swing by.

Read the rest of this story here.

Satan called a worldwide convention. In his opening address to his evil angels he said, "We can't keep the Christians from going to church. We can't keep them from reading their Bibles and knowing the truth. We can't even keep them from conservative values.

"But we can do something else. We can keep them from forming an intimate, abiding experience in Christ. If they gain that connection with Jesus, our power over them is broken.

"So let them go to church, let them have their conservative values and religious lifestyles, but steal their time, so they can't gain that experience in Jesus Christ.Ê This is what I want you to do, angels. Distract them from gaining hold of their Savior and maintaining that vital connection throughout their day!"

"How shall we do this?" shouted his angels.

"Keep them busy in the nonessentials of life and invent countless schemes to occupy their minds," he answered.

"Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, then borrow, borrow, borrow. Persuade the wives to go to work and the husbands to work six or seven days a week, 10-12 hours a day, so they can afford their lifestyles. Keep them from spending time with their children. As their family fragments, soon their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work."

"Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still small voice. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive, to keep the TV, the VCR, and their CD's going constantly in their homes. And see to it that every store and restaurant in the world plays music constantly. This will fill and clog their minds and break that abiding union with Christ."

"Fill their coffee tables with magazines and newspapers. The daily newspapers now in place are not enough; make them fill and distract their minds with the news 24 hours a day! Invade their driving moments with billboards. Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, sweepstakes, mail order catalogues, and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering, free products, services and false hopes."

"Even in their recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted, disquieted and unprepared for the coming week. See to it they don't go out in nature. Send them instead to amusement parks, sporting events, concerts and movies. And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences and unsettled emotions."

"Let them be involved in soul-winning, but crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Christ. Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing their health and family unity for the good of the cause."

It was quite a convention in the end. And the evil angels went eagerly to their assignments causing Christians everywhere to get busy, busy, busy and to rush here and there.

Has the devil been successful at his scheme? You be the judge.

A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later. As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family.

In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Bill, fiveyears my senior, was my example. Fran, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and develop the art of teasing. My parentswere complementary instructors - Mom taught me to love the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it.

But the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening. If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it all. He knew about the past, understood the present, and seemingly could predict the future. The pictures he could draw were so life like that I would often laugh or cry as I watched.

He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie stars. My brother and I were deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular.

The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn't seem to mind,but sometimes Mom would quietly get up while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places, go to her room, read her Bible and pray. I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave.

You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions. But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house - not from us, from our friends, or adults. Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional four letter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm. To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted. My dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home not even for cooking. But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often. He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (probably too much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing. I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger.

As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.

More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive. He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.

His name?
We called him TV.

from the Catholic Digest; submitted by Pedro Guevara-Mann

The pastor and I, both of us in jeans and sweatshirts, were walking back to the church after an exhausting but enjoyable eigth-grade Confirmation retreat.

When the pastor recognized a woman parishoner boarding a bus, he waved at her. But, apparantly didn't recognize him, so he called out her name. Now she knew who he was. "Oh Father," she exclaimed, "I didn't recognize you with clothes on!"

Looking around at the curious bus passengers, she explained: "He's my priest!"

Six minutes to six, said the great round clock over the information booth in Grand Central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant who had just come from the direction of the tracks lifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him because he could not control it. In six minutes, he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months . . . .

A man spoke with the Lord about heaven and hell. The Lord said to the man, "Come, I will show you hell." They entered a room where a group of people sat around a huge pot of stew. Everyone was famished, desperate and starving. Each held a spoon that reached the pot, but each spoon had a handle so much longer than their own arm that it could not be used to get the stew into their own mouths. The suffering was terrible.

"Come, now I will show you heaven," the Lord said after a while. They entered another room, identical to the first - the pot of stew, the group of people, the same long-handled spoons. But there everyone was happy and well-nourished.

"I don't understand," said the man. "Why are they happy here when they were miserable in the other room and everything was the same?"

The Lord smiled, "Ah, it is simple," he said. "here they have learned to feed each other."

By Ann Landers
from A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Copyright 1995 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

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Two Nickels and Five Pennies

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In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?"

"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired.

Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely.

The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table, and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.

From The Best of Bits & Pieces
from A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

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