Second Chance

While Human Resources members may joke that employees can drive us to drink, the truth is many have to deal with the issues that alcohol brings to the workplace. This is a true story shared by an HR collegue.

At a manufacturing facility, alcohol is not only detrimental to the work quality, it takes lives. When she had an employee with a serious drinking problem, she had to take action.

All managers, and even the company President, wanted this person fired.

When she had "the talk" with the employee, however, she discovered that the onset of abuse was immediately after the death of a child, followed by an abandonment by a spouse. And now this employee of sixteen years will loose a job.

This HR person then did something unprecedented at the company. She got the President to extend a second-chance plan to the employee. The employee had six months leave to go through a rehabilitation program and then see how things went upon return to work.

If this didn't work, however, the HR person would need a new job as well.

In six months, the employee was back on the job, performing better than ever. There was a new lease on life. Within a year, the person became the company's model employee.

The company became known as one that really takes care of its employees and referrals poured in faster than job openings. Turnover dropped to an all-time low, even in the dregs of monotonous manufacturing work.

That second-chance employee brought a new positive attitude to the job, and it became contagious. Soon, new orders blossomed as their defects, rejections and quality claims plummeted to all-time lows.

The employee was awarded many accolades and achieved promotions in time as well, not once forgetting that "one more chance" given.

We can all change a life

Looking past the strife

~ESA

 

Beneath the Cover

In 14 years of Human Resources, I've collected my share of stories about candidate interviews.

I've seen a job applications completed in lipstick, eye liner and even a green crayon, despite there being pens in the reception area.

I've had a young man take out his cell phone, initiate a call to his friend, have a 20 minute conversation (during a 30 minute interview), and then ask if he got the job.

But the most memorable is the following story:

As a Recruiter at one company, I found the perfect candidate for an managerial position. Every one of the senior staff agreed after several phone interviews. His references were top notch. We hired him and asked when he could start.

The Texan said he and his wife could be in Connecticut to start his job Monday. They arranged for a local hotel to stay until they found a place, and headed out.

Monday came; the new hire didn't show.

He didn't call.

He didn't answer his cell phone.

On Tuesday, he was still a "no show."

By Wednesday, I had no choice. I called the "Number 2" candidate and gave him the job.

We all wondered what happened to the first choice. In the end, we concluded that he got a better offer elsewhere and we would never hear from him again.

Nearly a month later, the receptionist transfers a call into my office. "It's the no-show asking if the job is still open."

I was a little irked that he had the nerve to call after all this time of silence. I used my "official HR" voice to explain that since he didn't show, nor call, nor answer his phone, we gave the job to someone else. 

Then he told me why he didn't show that Monday...

Somewhere in Virginia, on the drive from Texas to Connecticut, his car was struck in a head-on collision with a truck. He had been in a coma all this time. His wife is still in the hospital.

He had the paperwork from the police, doctors and hospital ready to testify this was the absolute truth.

Now that he was out of work with massive amounts of medical bills, he was willing to take any job. It didn't have to be the manager's position, just any job to help pay the bills. I could hear him choke up begging me for a job.

Unfortunately, I had no job to give him...

There are times when we hear something completely different than what we expect to hear. We go into a situation belieiving we know the whole story.

There could be a different story beneath the cover.

What is under the cover

Of each person we find

Take time to listen

To find story behind

~ESA

Dear Ruth (Story)

The following was sent to me via email, and I wanted to share it.

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Ruth went to her mailbox and there was only one letter. She picked it up and looked at it before opening, but then she looked at the envelope again. There was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and address. She read the letter:

Dear Ruth,

I am going to be in your neighborhood Saturday afternoon and I'd like to stop by for a visit.

Love Always,

Jesus

Her hands were shaking as she placed the letter on the table. 'Why would the Lord want to visit me? I'm nobody special. I don't have anything to offer…' With that thought, Ruth remembered her empty kitchen cabinets. 'Oh my goodness, I really don't have anything to offer. I'll have to run down to the store and buy something for dinner.'

She reached for her purse and counted out its contents: five dollars and forty cents. ‘Well, I can get some bread and cold cuts, at least…' She threw on her coat and hurried out the door.

A loaf of French bread, a half-pound of sliced turkey, and a carton of milk... leaving Ruth with a grand total twelve cents to last her until Monday. Nonetheless, she felt good as she headed home, her meager offerings tucked under her arm. “Hey lady, can you help us, lady?”

Ruth had been so absorbed in her dinner plans, she hadn't even noticed two figures huddled in the alleyway. A man and a woman, both of them dressed in little more than rags.

“Look lady, I ain't got a job, you know. And my wife and I have been living out here on the street, and, well, now it's getting cold and we're getting kinda hungry. And, well, if you could help us, lady, we'd really appreciate it.”

Ruth looked at them both. They were dirty, they smelled bad and frankly, she was certain that they could get some kind of work if they really wanted to. “Sir, I'd like to help you, but I'm a poor woman myself. All I have is a few cold cuts and some bread, and I'm having an important guest for dinner tonight and I was planning on serving that to Him.”

“Yeah, well, okay lady, I understand. Thanks anyway.” The man put his arm around the woman's shoulders, turned and headed back into the alley.

As she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familiar twinge in her heart. “Sir, wait!” The couple stopped and turned as she ran down the alley after them. “Look, why don't you take this food. I'll figure out something else to serve my guest.” She handed the man her grocery bag.

“Thank you lady. Thank you very much!”

“Yes, thank you!” It was the man's wife, and Ruth could see now that she was shivering.

“You know, I've got another coat at home. Here, why don't you take this one.” Ruth unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the woman's shoulders. Then smiling, she turned and walked back to the street... without her coat and with nothing to serve her guest.

Ruth was chilled by the time she reached her front door, and worried too. The Lord was coming to visit and she didn't have anything to offer Him. She fumbled through her purse for the door key.

But as she did, she noticed another envelope in her mailbox. 'That's odd,’ she thought. The mailman doesn't usually come twice in one day.'

Shivering, she opened the envelope and read:

Dear Ruth,

It was so good to see you again. Thank you for the lovely meal. And thank you, too, for the beautiful coat.

Love Always,

Jesus

The air was still cold, but even without her coat, Ruth no longer noticed.

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~ ESA 

Images: Homeless couple: Questa Fotographia (website unknown). Pink envelope: from A Letter to God.

Twinkies and Root Beer (Story)

This is a cute little story someone pointed me toward and found here.

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Twinkies and Root Beer

A little boy wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed Twinkies and a six-pack of root beer and he started his journey.
 

When he had gone about three blocks, he met an elderly man. The man was sitting in the park just feeding some pigeons. 

The boy sat down next to him and opened his pack. He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed that the man looked hungry, so he offered him a Twinkie.

The man gratefully accepted it and smiled at boy. His smile was so pleasant that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered him a root beer.

Again, the man smiled at him. The boy was delighted! They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they never said a word.

As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he got up to leave, but before he had gone more than a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the man, and gave him a hug. The man gave him his biggest smile ever.

When the boy opened the door to his own house a short time later, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face. She asked him, "What did you do today that made you so happy?

"He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? God's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"

Meanwhile, the elderly man, also radiant with joy, returned to his home. His son was stunned by the look of peace on his face and he asked," Dad, what did you do today that made you so happy?"

He replied, "I ate Twinkies in the park with God." However, before his son responded, he added," You know, he's much younger than I expected."

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Embrace all equally!

~author unknown~

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-ESA

Lent - Day 3

Today I took a vacation day from work. I had awaken early and had a wondrous surprise:

Snowfall!

Considering it was warm enough to wear a sweater or sweatshirt with no jacket outside, this was indeed a pleasant surprise. We've had such a shortage of snowfall this year, that even those that hate shoveling miss it.

I harvested the last of my Farmville crops this morning to go into another hiatus from the addicting (and distracting) game. I then started to poke about the virtual farm, arranging and re-arranging things like a doll-house for grown ups. It wasn't until the fourth time the system crashed that I got a clue. There was something I was missing...

Outside lay a golden opportunity; one that was rare this winter. That was helping my neighbors shovel. How often have I allowed myself to be distracted and missed these golden opportunities?

One of the lessons I've learned earlier this morning points directly to this. I've been asked to stop multi-tasking while I am talking with people or working on something. I must admit, even my prayers would be done via multi-tasking, such as I would say grace while setting up to eat or say my morning prayers as I stumbled through the apartment half-asleep to the bathroom. Not very respectful. 

Not only is this how I miss many opportunities, I AM being disrespectful, to God, to Yeshua (Jesus) and to all others. I need to step away from the distractions and really start give 100% of my attention to what is around me, and who is around me, what they say and what they need. I may regret I can not stand before a full church and preach, nor even afford to go on mission trips. Yet there are countless opportunities to help so many people in my life - everyday.

Today begins with shoveling; I tugged on my snow boots and grabbed the shovel. Our steps and walkway, as well as those of our elderly neighbors, are now clear and liberally sprinkled with salt. My husband went out and cleared off the cars as well.

Who knows what else there may be when we set the computer and cell phone aside, shut off the radio and TV and just observe, just listen. 

It's a beautiful day.

I plan to make the most of it.

Carpe Diem. :D

~ ESA

Lent - Day 2

On Wednesday, I left some stuff to do at work. I promised I would get to work early Thursday and get them done before the boss got there. I left an hour early, but I didn't get there early.

Instead I was given an opportunity to help someone. On the walk to work, another woman walked up to me and asked directions to a place I haven't heard about before. She was on her way to work and had just gotten off the bus. She knew it was off this particular road. Unfortunately the road was a few short blocks down in one direction (which I knew well) and then stretched 16 miles (26 km) in the other direction.

After realizing we would not find the place talking about it and this woman may have to walk several miles to reach her destination. I offered to get my car and drive her. After all, I really didn't need to be at work for another hour.

We walked back to my apartment complex and got into my old Jeep. I joked about the rust spots and radio that doesn't play; she commented that I was fortunate to have a car at all. She takes the bus whenever she needs to get someplace. We drove all the way down the road and back, missing the turn at first pass. On the way, we pointed out the bus stop locations so we would know the closest one to her new workplace.

On the way back, though, she suddenly suggested I turn up another road. To our surprise, while we didn't find the road we needed, we found the public bus waiting between runs. In fact, it was the same bus driver that dropped her off. He scolded the woman for getting into the car with a stranger. She pointed out that until she got onto his bus that morning, he was a stranger too. So he conceded the point.

Upon hearing that we still could not find this place, he looked up directions on his cell phone and walked over to my Jeep to pass them onto me. I recognized the streets and turns and could figure out from there where this place was. Needless to say, she got to work on time, as well as I did.

There were three Good Samaritans that day. Not only did I help the woman, she helped me by giving me an opportunity to help another. Our mutual help also inspired the bus driver who could have simply said "No, I don't know," and closed the door in her face. Instead, he got out his phone to help us find this place.

One good deed does inspire others.

~ ESA

Home for the Holiday

It is sad when there are so many dividing lines in the world. When I stumble across the ones in my own life, I sit back and wonder why they are even there. As I have just mentioned to someone on Twitter, while I was raised Christian, I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood. So wishing others a Happy Hanukkah did not seem wrong to me at all... until I was accused of possibly trying to convert them to Christianity.

*Sigh*

The home where I was raised had a Mezuzah beside the door, like every other house in my neighborhood. It was there when we first moved in. When my dad explained what was inside, it reminded me of the words I read in our Old Testament. No biggie - same writing / same God.

While we were one of three families with tree and Christmas lights, in a neighborhood of over 300, I wondered why we didn't have a Menorah glowing in our front window like all the rest. It was explained that we were Christian, not Jewish. That was the first dividing line.

Around our Easter celebration, I actually looked forward to matzo in the supermarket - I used to nibble them row-by-row as a child for a snack. There was also my neighbor's famous matzo ball soup when we sat down to the Passover Seder with them, unless it fell on Easter, at which point we had family gatherings for our holiday that day. Another fine dividing line.

In December, there were many craft and holiday flea markets held selling goods. My mom was a shop-a-holic. So after-school we were dragged to many different places to attend these events. They were many in the local temples, one at our Catholic school in the gym, and one in a parish hall from a Mormon Church. While I and my siblings towed behind my mother from table to table at these events, I had plenty of time to examine the stuff that hung from the walls. I can't read Hebrew, nor could I then. So I asked my mother about the writing in symbols that looked closer to Chinese in my young eyes than the Greco-Roman letters in which I read/write. She explained they were Hebrew and that is what the Jewish teachings were written in. We don't speak or read it because we were not Jewish. Another dividing line.

When I was still in grade school (where I attended Catholic school from grades 1-8), I received my Confirmation. Friends of ours attended it, even though they were not Christian. We also attended their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs too. In fact, several of our class trips in the later grades were to the temple to learn about Judaism. While I heard rumors that the Hebrew grade school did the same as part of a cooperative program with our Church, the majority of the kids in our area attended public school. They found our ceremonies strange and bizarre while we had some vague notion of what theirs were about. After all, Jesus, the focus of our own religious education, had celebrated Jewish holidays and practiced Jewish customs. But my neighbors understood little about our customs and holidays. Another dividing line.

High school wasn't fun for me; I attended an all-girl Catholic Academy. But unlike grade school, I had to take two school buses. I was picked up by the local high-school bus, that rounded up ALL the high-school children in the area - public, Catholic and Hebrew schools. The majority of the public school kids were Jewish. While there was more than one Catholic high school kids in my town attended, overall, in our neighborhood, we made up less than 10% and had to wear these atrocious uniforms. I believe the Hebrew school had uniforms or a dress-code too, but they were not as glaringly obvious as the plaid skirts, ties and school color blazers and sweaters with the school emblems on them. A very obvious dividing line.

We ALL were dropped off at the public school. Then the public school kids went inside (or at least had to be inside by the first bell). The rest of us stood outside as our second bus would travel from town-to-town picking up the kids for our respective high school. While this may have made sense to some administrator, it was torture for us. We had to wear clothes that distinguished us as "separate" from the others, and we were major targets for bullies, teasing and bad-mouthing both on the bus and at the public high school. Why? Because we were not Jewish. They outnumbered us; we were supposed to always forgive, so they assumed there would be no retaliation as well. We had no other way to get to our school; we had to share the ride on "their" bus. At the public school, we had to stay put while they had the opportunity to walk away when they wanted to. They would ask: Why were we living in the neighborhood anyway? It was a JEWISH neighborhood! Christians were not welcome. Even the local "Y" was a YMHA, not a YMCA.

Why were we there? My father worked hard for a living, went to night school to get a law degree and then worked long hours in "the city" (New York City) to earn a good enough living to have a big house in a nice neighborhood for his family. There was no application indicating what religious affiliation we had to have to buy the house. That would be illegal - this is America, home of religious freedom. Right? The other Christians we knew had homes half the size or smaller. Why could we not live in that neighborhood in a big house for a big family?

In the years to follow, I observed further divisions. It was OK to have friends across that religious line. It may even be acceptable to date across the dividing line, if someone better is not available. But one would never assume it's OK to marry across the dividing line... "Think of the kids; they would be confused," was an argument I heard many times - from both sides of the fence. Yet it's the same God...

*Sigh* That was three to four DECADES ago: over a generation.

I don't hold grudges; I am called not to. What was in the past stays in the past - as it should! Hate and division only begets hate, war and violence. None of which I want.

Times have changed, thankfully for the better. In my lifetime, I have seen a growing acceptance across many lines - race, religious and sexual preferences being predominant. There has become a stronger division in political and income lines in these past few years, though. My heart longs to see these reversed too...

I followed my mom back to Long Island Monday, as we are visiting with friends and family here this week as part of our holiday travel. On the way we stopped at the local strip mall to pick up a few items. In the large window before me, the local florist had a winter-scape display with a large menorah predominantly at the center with the correct number of candles aglow. Tuesday at the bowling alley as we were heading out the door, I spied the manager turning the bulb to "light" the last candle as sunset dimmed an already rainy afternoon. I am still a Christian and will always be, but these sights made me feel like "home for the holiday" more than I can express, as much as the scent of a freshly decorated Christmas tree.

We are all brothers and sisters in this world. One race, one humanity. Why do we keep dividing ourselves?

-ESA

9/11 Memories & Thanks

While many news stories cover memories of Americans from the terror that struck us one decade ago, I'd like to share a few stories recalled from those days - and thanks to many non-Americans.

When all traffic was grounded, several inbound flights were re-routed to our neighbors to the north in Canada. Canadians opened their hearts and opened their homes to displaced Americans who just wanted to get home to their loved ones after hearing the devastating news. Some even got into their cars and drove hundreds if not thousands of miles to get people home.

In Europe, not only did local residents share the news with visiting Americans and offer their heartfelt support on that day. A few days later, they held a three-minute moment of silence for us. One-minute is standard; three-minutes is unprecedented. And they didn't just bow their heads a moment. People eating lunch, put down their cups and utensils. People driving - local road and highway - as one pulled aside, stopped and gave us the full three minutes of silence. People stopped talking; radios were silent. This wasn't just in America; this was in Europe FOR America.

These are just two stories I've heard in the last 24 hours. There are many, many more cases where we were supported by others around the world. As we celebrate the 10th Anniversary of 9/11. Let us not only share our memories, let us be thankful for the support and heartfelt compassion shown by others around the world.

- ESA

The Newcomer (True Story)

This story was told to me a few times and dates back to the late 1970's in a New England church, near one of the prestigious technical universities.

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There was young man who excelled in math, but didn't always have the best social skills, caring little in the ways of social etiquette and appearance. He recently started attendance at the University, and far from home, went to attend services at the local church that Sunday.

His first time in the area, he did not realize how conservative this church was. Everyone there held to the old, traditional ways. Not one person dared cross the threshold without being properly dressed and hair perfectly in place.

The young man entered in jeans and a flannel shirt loosely buttoned. His clothing was clean but rumpled, his hair somewhat askew and a few days growth of stubble shadowed his chin. Worse! He was late too.

When he entered the church, people turned and stared. When he tried to find a seat, not one person would budge for he was certainly not welcome to sit with them. Row-by-row, the young man made his way up to the front of the church. By now, the service itself was disrupted as everyone stared, pointed and whispered. Even the preacher had paused.

No one would let him sit down in the pews, so - being a practical man - he dropped cross-legged right down in the main aisle, facing the man at the pulpit. All in the church were shocked!

Then from the back of the church, a new sound penetrated the profound silence. Tap, tap, click, tap, tap, click... The oldest member of the congregation - the one known to be the strictest and most adherent to the old ways - was making his way up the aisle with his cane. His suit was impeccably pressed, his tie straight, not a hair out of place.

The rest of the congregation ribbed each other with nods of understanding. This was the one to sort this young man out. Half of the attendees expected to see the intruder bodily flung from their church by the back of his shirt and the seat of his pants. They would not put up with such behavior!

Tap, tap, click, tap, tap, click. The preacher watched respectfully as the old man made his way slowly up the aisle. But when the old man reached the front, he wordlessly, limbs trembling, sat down beside the young man right on the floor.

Then he nodded to the preacher to continue.

After recovering, the preacher turned to the congregation and solemnly told them. "Years from now, you will not remember a word that I say before you today. But you will always remember what you have seen here today."

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- ESA

Kingdom Visitor (Story)

Once upon a time, in a not too distant land there was a king that loved all the people. Because he had such love for the people, he wanted them to be happy and to love each other as he loved them. One day, he called before him all the magistrates in the land and commanded of them to design a way that would best enable all the people to love one another.

The magistrates gathered and spent much time in council determining the best methods to govern the people that would make them love each other so the king would be happy. They decided on a long list of rules that the people would have to memorize and adhere. They decided on celebration days that would, by their annual repetition, reinforce the rules they established. Further, they set up a system where there would be rewards for those who obeyed the rules and punishment for those who did not.

This, they surmised, was the best way to make the people love each other.

Over the years, the magistrates instructed the people in the rules, meted out the rewards and punishments, and watched the people carefully so they knew who to reward and who to punish. In response, some of the people would either vie with each other to do the most loving acts to gain the best of the rewards, or they followed the rules minimally when they knew they were being watched, lest they face the dreaded punishments.

Then one day, a stranger arrived and set up a temporary home among the people of this kingdom. Within a few days, one of the magistrates presented to her a thick bound volume of the rules. But the stranger handed the book back unopened and, instead, took out her visa which indicated she was not a subject of the king, and thus she was not subject to those rules. The magistrate tried to harass her, but she knew that was the law of all the lands and magistrate could not force their ways on her.

At that time, the king wondered how well the system his magistrates established was working. Were the people truly loving one another as he loved them? Was the system enabling their love for each other to flourish? Or were the people merely following the established set of rules because they sought individually to gain a reward or avoid a punishment? So the king decided to find out for himself. He disguised himself and went out among the people.

Where the magistrates were to be found, people performed all kinds of loving acts, helping one another and more. But where there were no magistrates watching, the poor were left hungry, the cold were left outside alone to fend for themselves, the sick were shoved apart from the healthy, and the outcasts were friendless. There was very little love here.

Then the king spied a young woman, a stranger in this land, and she was doing what the people were not, even when the magistrates were not watching. She shared her supper with someone that had none, she helped carry someone's heavy load, and she welcomed the homeless into the rooms she rented so they would not have to suffer the freezing rain and falling snow. Who was this woman?

The king called court the next day and called this woman before him. "I am king of this realm," he told her, "and I have seen what you have done."

"I know of your rules may be different here, your majesty, but as I am not one of your subjects, so your rules do not apply to me."

"So you do not act as you do fearing punishment?"

"No, sir."

"So you do not act as you do expecting reward?"

"No, sir."

The king's cheeks started to glisten with tears and he stepped down from his throne and faced the woman eye-to-eye. "Then why do you do the things you do?"

The woman shrugged, "It's just the right thing to do. We're all part of this world, we should help each other."

The king stepped forward and embraced the woman fiercely!

When he stepped back he announced, "Let this be known across the land, this woman has acted with Love for her neighbor, not because of reward, not out of fear of punishment - for she clearly does not expect either. She acted simply out of the Love found in her heart. THIS! This is what I sought for my people. All I simply ask is that they love one another."

Love
thy
neighbor

-ESA

Missed Blessing

There is this family that my husband and I befriended when they lived in our apartment complex. We would have dinner at each others homes and share many memorable BBQ's outside. We were the test subjects the summer when the wife and kids went back to visit family in India and the husband decided to learn to cook.

My husband tutored their kids. The wife and I would go out for walks or would sit on cold days and drink tea while we chatted. She even dragged my butt to yoga class gratis to see if I would like it. Her husband and mine were good friends too.

They moved from New England to Arizona four years ago. Since then we've traded holiday greetings and the occasional phone call, but it wasn't the same as seeing them practically every day.

Today they swung by the apartment complex unannounced while I was at the office. My husband was home and tried a few times to reach me by phone. The first time, I was out for a walk on a lunch break. The moment I got back to the office, I headed right into a meeting, not checking my voicemail. Then I was on a conference call. By the time I checked my messages they had come and gone.

I had missed them. :(

How many times do we miss opportunities because we're so caught up in our daily lives? How many times do we loose the chance to see those that mean so much? If I had taken one minute to check my voicemail, I would have had the chance to see my friends I haven't seen in four years.

Watch for missed blessings; they come in many forms.
They happen anytime.
Unannounced.

ESA

Everyday Heros

On the news this evening they convered the continuing story about the sea captain who was captured by pirates off the coast of Somolia. The spokesperson added: when that captain left home to go on this job, he was just an ordinary guy, but he came home a national hero - showing us that anybody ordinary has the potential to become extraordinary.

While it's very true that each and everyone of us has the potential to do something or be someone extraordinary, being a hero doesn't require being extraordinary, doing great deeds or showing uncommon valor.

Being a hero means simply placing someone else's needs above your own. It can can be for a whole crew, a nation, your town, or simply a child or animal who is in need of something you can provide.

Every day there are thousands of unsung heros, ones that take the time and initiative to brighten someone else's day. They volunteer their time to some cause, or simply help an elderly neighbor with the shopping or snow removal. They take time to help a child with homework or learn a new hobby. They take extra time to play a game of fetch or chase the string with a pet.

Everyday heros are sometimes part of a larger movement, but often they work in small, simple ways, often unnoticed by the people around them, let alone the media or the world.

It can even be something as simple as passing on a smile to a stranger on the street.

Each of us should strive to be everyday hero. When our life is through and we look back upon what we have done, very likely we'll see that at least one of those times we only did "a little something" that what we did mattered a lot to someone who needed our help. And it's these "little something" efforts that makes this world a much better place to live.

- ESA