[nukkad] FW: [HeartWarming] HEARTWARMING 03/08/1999

[Dsilva Karen <Karen.Dsilva@bom4.siemens.co.in>]

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To the nukkad-list members,

'The Dash' is not originally written by Mable Monteiro but it is from a
series of Heartwarming stories/articles to which you all can subscribe
to as given below.  Next time when any article is reproduced I think it
is right to include the name of the original author.

No hard feelings Mable.

>----------
>From: 	William H. Rayborn[SMTP:tcmrtalk@airmail.net]
>Sent: 	Tuesday, 09 March, 1999 5:19AM
>To: 	heartwarming@onelist.com
>Subject: 	[HeartWarming] HEARTWARMING 03/08/1999
>
>From: "William H. Rayborn" <tcmrtalk@airmail.net>
>
> _   _                 _                                _             
>| | | | ___  __ _ _ __| |___      ____ _ _ __ _ __ ___ (_)_ __   __ _ 
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>                                                                |___/ 
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>From: Monicola3@aol.com
> 
>                 The Dash
> 
>     I read of a man who stood to speak
>     at the funeral of a friend.
>     He referred to the dates on her tombstone
>     from the beginning...to the end.
>  
>     He noted that first came the date of her birth
>     and spoke of the of the following date with tears,
>     but he said what mattered most of all
>     was the dash between those years.
>  
>     For that dash represents all the time
>     that she spent alive on earth...
>     and now only those who loved her
>     know what that little line is worth.
>  
>     For it matters not, how much we own;
>     the cars....the house...the cash.
>     What matters is how we live and love
>     and how we spend our dash.
>  
>     So think about this long and hard...
>     are there things you'd like to change?
>     For you never know how much time is left.
>    (You could be at  "dash midrange.")
>  
>     If we could just slow down enough
>     to consider what's true and real,
>     and always try to understand
>     the way other people feel.
>  
>     And be less quick to anger,
>     and show appreciation more
>     and love the people in our lives
>     like we've never loved before.
>  
>     If we treat each other with respect,
>     and more often wear a smile...
>     remembering that this special dash
>     might only last a little while.
>  
>     So, when your eulogy's being read
>     with your life's actions to rehash...
>     would you be proud of the things they say
>     about how you spent your dash?
>
>                 =======HeartWarming=======
> 
>From: Monicola3@aol.com
> 
>                         The Smell of Rain
>
>  A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the
>doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing.  Still
>groggy from surgery, her husband David held her hand as they braced
>themselves for the latest news.
>
>  That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only
>24 weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency cesarean to deliver the
>couple's new daughter, Danae Lu Blessing.
>
>  At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound and nine ounces, they
>already knew she was perilously premature.  Still, the doctor's soft
>words dropped like bombs.  "I don't think she's going to make it," he
>said, as kindly as he could. "There's only a 10 percent chance she will
>live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does
>make it, her future could be a very cruel one."
>
>  Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described
>the devastating problems Danae would likely face if she survived.  She
>would never walk; she would never talk; she would probably be blind; she
>would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral
>palsy to complete mental retardation; and on and on.
>
>  "No! No!" was all Diana could say. She and David, with their 5 year old
>son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to
>become a family of four.  Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was
>slipping away.
>
>  Through the dark hours of morning as Danae, the little baby girl, held
>onto life by the thinnest thread, Diana slipped in and out of drugged
>sleep, growing more and more determined that their tiny daughter would
>live and live to be a healthy, happy young girl.  But David, fully awake
>and listening to additional dire details of their daughter's chances of
>ever leaving the hospital alive, much less healthy, knew he must confront
>his wife with the inevitable.
>
>  David walked in and said that we needed to talk about making funeral
>arrangements, Diana remembers.  I felt so bad for him because he was
>doing everything, trying to include me in what was going on, but I just
>wouldn't listen, I couldn't listen.
>
>  I said, "No, that is not going to happen, no way I don't care that the
>doctors say Danae is not going to die!  One day she will be just fine,
>and she will be coming home with us!"
>
>  As if willed to live by Diana's determination, Danae clung to life hour
>after hour, with the help of every medical machine and marvel her
>miniature body could endure But as those first days passed, a new agony
>set in for David and Diana.
>
>  Because Danae's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially "raw",
>the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort.  So they
>couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer
>the strength of their love.  All they could do, as Danae struggled alone
>beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to
>pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl. 
>
>  There was never a moment when Danae suddenly grew stronger.  But as the
>weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce
>of strength there.
>
>  At last, when Danae turned two months old, her parents were able to
>hold her in their arms for the very first time.  And two months later
>though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of
>surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero -
>Danae went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.
> 
>  Today, five years later, Danae is a petite but feisty young girl with
>glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life.  She shows no
>signs, whatsoever, of any mental or physical impairments.  Simply, she is
>everything a little girl can be an more - but that happy ending is far
>from the end of her story.
>
>  One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in
>Irving, Texas, Danae was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of
>a local ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was
>practicing. 
>
>	As always, Danae was chattering non-stop with her mother and several
>other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent.  
>Hugging her arms across her chest, Danae asked, "Do you smell that?"
>Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana
>replied, "Yes, it smells like rain."
>
>  Danae closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?"
>Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet,
>it smells like rain."
>
>  Still caught in the moment, Danae shook her head, patted her thin
>shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells like
>Him.  It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."
>
>  Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Danae then happily hopped down to play
>with the other children.  Before the rains came, her daughter's words
>confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family
>had known, at least in their hearts, all along.  During those long days
>and nights of her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too
>sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Danae on His chest - and
>it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.
>  
>                           =======BPL=======
>
>Until next time...carpe diem!
>
>=Bill Rayborn=
>
>
>
>
> 
>
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