I want to... untitled poem

I don't know who wrote this, but if I knew how to write a poem, and had a way with words, this is what I would have written:

The Generous Gift of a Glass of Milk that Ended up Paying for Medical Care -Truth!

This story has been circulating on social medias for quite some time now. Still beautiful. It should tell us that there is no reason to hold back kindness untill you think you can offer real help; preferably big time!  As is often the case, someone has fictionalized the details of this story and gotten some of it wrong, but it is essentially a true event.

A real example of the story as it has been circulated: One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly, and then asked, "How much do I owe you?" "You don't owe me anything," she replied. "Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness." He said..... "Then I thank you from my heart." As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit. Year's later that young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly ! was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to room. Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to the case. After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words..... "Paid in full with one glass of milk" Signed Dr. Howard Kelly. Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed: "Thank You, God, that Your love has spread abroad through human hearts and hands."

The Truth:   Dr. Howard Kelly was a distinguished physician who, in 1895, founded the Johns Hopkins Division of Gynecologic Oncology at Johns Hopkins University.  According to Dr. Kelly's biographer, Audrey Davis, the doctor was on a walking trip through Northern Pennsylvania one spring day when he stopped by a farm house for a drink of water.  A little girl answered his knock at the door and instead of water, brought him a glass of fresh milk.  He visited with her briefly, then went his way.   Sometime after that, the little girl came to him as a patient and needed surgery.  After the surgery, the bill was brought to her room and on it were the words, "Paid in full with one glass of milk." www.Truthorfiction.com  thanks Andrew Harrison, the Processing Archivist and Fine Arts Coordinator for the Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions, for help with this story.  Posted 7/6/07 http://www.truthorfiction.com/rumors/o/oneglassofmilk.htm#.Uys0bvl5NLA

Dodging a good advice

It is such a strange, and yet liberating, feeling when you are alone in a room and you read something which just makes you roar with laughter. Like a manifestation of your inner craziness. Just now I read a status on Facebook which brought back memories of a rather dramatic situation, but which now, in the aftermath, is hysterically funny.

A wonderful friend of mine was listening to the radio where a famous, Norwegian stylist recommended using hemorrhoids cream to cure baggy eyes.

There were no instructions given on how to use it, how long or how often he recommended using it. It was just a remark, really, on how to get rid of those unwelcome signs of late nights spent in marvellous decadence.

She posted this status on Facebook:

Dear, dear Jan Thomas. Since I post this in public I reckon you will read it. You once recommended using hemorrhoids cream to reduce bags under my eyes. You seemingly forgot to tell how much to apply. So I applied a really heavy layer before I went to bed (I had gone through one of those tearful days of crying and the bags under my eyes were really conspicuous). Well, I woke up the next morning (the bags were smaller, I give you that) but in return I looked as if I had been given a serious direct hit on both eyes. Two solid black eyes glared back at me when I looked in the mirror. And I looked like that for two full weeks. Do feel free to send me “user’s manual”

Love “me”.

I remember the incident very well, and it is true she looked severely beaten up. She didn't leave the
house for two weeks, and wore sunglasses on rainy days… and we all know who does that! Women having occurrences with butt lotions are not quite what springs to mind…

Looking back we all, she included, agree she could have tried out a few less extreme home remedies before going for the ultimate panacea, but in all fairness it WAS a remedy uttered by a highly respected expert on looks, beauty and style.

Well, hemorrhoids cream on the thin and sensitive skin under your eyes was maybe not the best advice to go public with. Not when impulsive women like my friend follow them, in their own manner (and I'm sure my friend is not the only one.... then again: she is one of a kind). Conducted with great care and prudence I am sure it can save the day after, in an (social) emergency.

I can’t help but mentioning that this particular stylist have had another beauty-advice-fail:

There was a stunt on the radio: celebrities were invited to a week’s work placement. Jan Thomas thought it was fair that since he was working as a radio host for a week, the radio host, Michael Andreassen, should get a glimpse of his world of beauty, looks and style. So, Michael agreed to get some Botox and Restylane done. It wouldn’t be a problem to try it out, he thought, so he went to the clinic and asked for “the works”.

As it turned out this was not a very smart thing to do: He was given a total of between 70 and 90 injections in the face, which gradually began to itch and swell. Then came the fever and he ended up being hospitalized; getting liquid antibiotics several times a day.

He had no wrinkles after the treatment, he had to give Jan Thomas that, but his entire forehead was motionless. Not even a hint of frowning, when he really tried.

At a talk show Jan Thomas told that he had never experienced anything like that using Botox himself, but admitted that smaller touch ups sometimes had given unexpected consequences. He’d gotten a black eye, but that's all.

Being famous and an expert can be dangerous, because regardless of what you say people will listen. And since we are human (and I admit this might be a characteristic property belonging to one of the genders) we may say we listen, but we only hear what we want to hear; short-listing and selecting which words we hear, and which ones we choose not to recognize. And we comprehend what is said the way we want to… and sometimes we end up following our own version of what was a good advice to begin with.

Now, I have read and listened to every word he said about this, and hence his propensity to give (semi-) good advice and these above mentioned incidents, I have to say that when Jan Thomas says that exercise and a healthy lifestyle is the best option to obtain a healthy, good looking body, like his own...,

I wonder if I should follow his advice and make an effort or if I should dodge working out and keeping a healthy diet all together…?

Planning on a good life....?

Not long ago I was planning, hypothetically of course…ehm…, on living my dream. The dream was triggered by an acquaintance who bought himself an apartment in Spain. He told tales of very high standard, all facilities, gym, swimmingpool, security services, maintenance, tennis court, golfing, beach near by…, with enthusiasm. There was no ending to the luxury and comfort available. “And the best part,” he said, “it cost next to nothing!”

I went online, curious about what he was talking about. I scrolled through the real estate for sale ads, but I didn’t find anything which had that instant appeal to me. There was no luxury apartment I thought would be somewhere worth visiting on a regular basis. Nor would I want to live in any of them. I mean; If you buy a vacation home you really should enjoy the stay, even if you rent it out to others for long periods of time.

What I did find, however, was a run down vineyard, just outside a picturesque village. The stock looked dead, or at best very neglected, as did the house. But to me it looked like heaven.

Here we live in a development where the houses are really close to one another, and the yards are very small. I long for space; room for air and light and my own sounds.

I have dreamt of a place like that for a few years, but now it became more of a attainable reality. The place was there; just like I had imagined. It looked like the perfect place for me to live and wind down; A haven where my hectic lifestyle should change into lazy days of effervescent creativity.

I made plans: a local family who knew how to grow grapes should be hired and live in the renovated house. The stock would be brought back to luscious crops. I would build a functional villa for my family. I made sketches of annexes for the visitors, and they would be many and frequent.

I planned on a bench around the olive tree in the yard, with blue, checkered, cushy seating. In the branches I would hang empty jam jars with candles, there would be a table… at least 5 meters long with room for at least 20 people eating 3 hours long meals.

All in all I pictured this abandoned farm full of life, laughter and abundance. Lemon-, olive-, apricot trees, herbs, vegetables, fruit, berries, fresh bread and cheese…

I could almost feel the mild evening breeze and smell the scent of a good life. I would learn how to write, sew, paint, take wonderful pictures and just live.

The thought of going to bed in the evening, knowing what the weather would be like the next day, was alone a thought which was very appealing to me.

All geared up and excited I told my significant other (my husband) about it all, painted the picture in every positive adjective I could think of… and his response?

He looked at me for a few seconds, and I could tell I wouldn’t like what he had to say… “Hun”, he said, “I don’t even mow the lawn…”

40 bags in 40 days 2014

A year ago I joined the 40 bags in 40 days challenge. 40 bags in 40 days is a challenge which takes place during lent (the catholic period of fasting). To me this was a blessing in disguise. For many years I had this problem of collecting too much stuff around in my house. Read more here: https://www.facebook.com/events/637377976316873/?fref=ts 

I grew up with parents born before WW2. My mother always told me to take care of things, especially clothes, in case of rougher times. Actually, as a teen I used to redesign and alter clothes a lot and they turned out pretty cool. But that was the 80s, which was really convenient, because I couldn’t really afford buying clothes then and fashion back then allowed an individual style. At the time having access to stored, old stuff made sense.

Anyway, I learned that we do not throw away stuff, we keep it… thing is: things started piling up, too much of everything, and suddenly I looked around and discovered I never used any of it, but it took up a lot of space in my house. Space I would really like to clear away and make useful and presentable and room to breath.

I started off thinking that all the piles and boxes in my house was an impossible task to take on, when I stumbled upon this challenge I started thinking that a tiny bit is a lot more than nothing at all, so I joined. I didn’t do it the scientific way: I did not download the calendars or plans available everywhere on the net, I didn’t have a room or area scheduled each day. I just thought that I’d wing it. Everywhere was somewhere good to get started. But it was scary, I tell you.

At first it was really easy: a bag was filled in no time. Getting rid of a little bit of it all wasn’t too painful. Some days I even discarded a lot more than what I had planned. It was 5 minutes of contending passions. But as the 40 days was coming to an end it became more painful. I found things I had forgotten I even had, and I found things which I knew would never be used again, but memories overwhelmed me. It is stupid to hold on to broken etch a scetch just because my son wrote his name for the first time on it, but it is painful to get rid of.

I continued, though. Trying to be reasonable about it all, and after a while it became more of a personal cleansing. I reminded myself of the advantages I would get from it all:

-More space

-Easier to clean

-More presentable home

-Less clutter…. The list grew longer the more I thought it through.

On day 40 I started thinking I was doing something which was good for me. I could already see the results, and I was happy about it. The present became even more important to me, and the feeling of constantly to resign in frustration was replaced with the feeling of achieving something great. To me it was great anyway, and the family started to notice the changes in our house.

off to Salvation Army second hand store.

There was no reason for me to stop, just because the 40 days were over. Every day I got rid of another bag. Some days I just cleared out too small socks from my kids’ drawers, other days I finally got rid of boxes of pocket books I had read too many times.

One day I didn’t have much time to spare… less than my usual 10 minutes, so I grabbed a grocery bag and went into the bathroom. There I threw away empty shampoo bottles, expired creams, lotions and make up and I ended up filling up three bags.

I just love how good I am getting at getting rid of clutter… yes, I stopped calling it stuff or things; now I see clutter.

Today is Ash Wednesday, people from all over the western world are picking up on the challenge. To get some starting help you maybe need a schedule.

White House Black Shutters offers this one:

http://www.whitehouseblackshutters.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/dailyprogress.pdf

Or maybe you just use your calendar on your phone…

I didn’t need one last year; this year I have noted down areas to focus on each day… there is less to just shuffle into a bag now.

I noted it down on the family planner, which is in plain sight in the kitchen. The kids have become curious, so this year it will be more of a family activity. I just can’t wait until this afternoon… I am excited to get started!

A man's true wealth

Now and then you come across people who actually put the time and resources, whether it is profit, energy, knowledge or networks, and put an effort on issues you wish you were more engaged in yourself.

One might wonder why I did not mention capital as means or resources, but capital is something achieved by results. It has never been so that if only you have the money then the results will be better. You do not run fast just because you have money, but for the one who runs faster the road to a comfortable account is a lot shorter. And money can be an important motivating factor, when the hunger for personal glory gradually becomes saturated. A good cause, on the other hand (opposed to achievements), can never be an economic cash cow, at least not legally, but it can become a source of economic concerns.

We have a wealth of good causes and charity to work for, even here in Norway which is such a good country to live in. It is by no means necessary to travel to Africa, or another continent, to find people who feel they are both left and alone somewhere hopeless. Many do not know where to turn to begin the work to make things better in life, they are captured by a paralyzing discouragement. Often, low self-esteem because they have never had the opportunity to learn, their best has never been challenged, or instead of constructive criticism they used to be judged north and down no matter what they did. I do not like using the term, and I don’t mean it in a degrading way, but that's the way we create losers.

When someone does something on behalf of your cause you feel so privileged, it 's like you get personal service and attention. Finally someone actually looks into the dark, inner corners of hopelessness and disappointment which so far has been subject to a fierce and increasing existence soaked in self-pity.

Self-pity is the worst listener. Not even a weary man with a turned off hearing aid is worse. You become so absorbed in yourself and your own situation that no matter what others share with you there is never an appropriate response: you reply by telling about your own almost similar situation and experience. It's like as if you think that if you just share your own misfortune, all the time, you give your support and encouragement. Maybe your story, told 17 times all over again is what gives new vitality to further combat... since the fight for the cause is a personal gesture on your behalf. I'm a bit ironic now, I admit. I don’t feel very kind either, but I get so tired over the fact  that we don’t have it in us to be more generous. It wears me out not to be able to show generosity.

I must honestly admit that one of the hardest thing in the world, for me, is to give praise to someone doing something I know I should have done more of myself. I should have called, written, spoken up, painted, taken photos ... in one way or another been better at expressing where I stand, pick a side, be a better advocate for groups of human beings who are not able to promote their cause.

Molière said way back then, more than 350 years ago, that " A man's true wealth is the good he does for his fellow man."  So true, so very true: Having a generous nature that includes other is a great property. And it’s rare, which is sad because it enrichen your life incredibly much. Envy, jealousy and offended curt has, on the other hand, never led to either happiness or quality of life.

In my head it does not need to be a contradiction to say out loud that doing good for their fellow man has a price. It is time to acknowledge our perception that time is money and we do not have many other opportunities to recognize an engagement than to admit the spending cost.

My 7-year old had a conversation with his father, where the father at one point says that " ... nothing is free ." The boy thinks for a few seconds before it comes, " Oh, yes there is, otherwise there wouldn’t have been such a word! "

He has a good point there that 's hard to find a good answer to, but if it does not cost so much in dollars and cents, it still costs. To tell your story requires that you violate a defense wall of silence. It requires compromising with yourself and often those you love. You steal your beloved’s time with you. Yes, it costs to take the lead, which is why so few of us actually do it. That is why some can treat other plain and little worthy... until a hero comes along who points out the injustices that are being committed.

To say out loud that the fight has a price should not be seen as a shortcoming in the knight’s armor, although one likes to think that those who fight one's case is perfect and infallible. Ultimately, no one can fight alone, and the sympathy and support in the form of listening to their story is one thing , cash that enables them to continue the fight another ... when money are so necessary, it is a wonder they are so unpleasant to mention. That may be how we got the term "a necessary evil".