​Author & lecturer Leo Buscaglia (known as Dr. Love) told of a time he was asked to, through a contest, find the most caring child.
 
What I love about these stories is the vibrational frequency that is emitted from a child’s heart.  Below is the winner and some of the other heartwarming innocence that comes from children who see everything unconditionally.  Sometimes we need to look through the eyes of a child to really SEE!!!
 

A four-year-old child, whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman, who had recently lost his
wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old Gentleman's' yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy just said, 'Nothing, I
just helped him cry.'


Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture
had a different hair color than the other members. One of her students suggested that he was adopted.
A little girl said, 'I know all about Adoption, I was adopted..'
'What does it mean to be adopted?', asked another child.
 'It means', said the girl, 'that you grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy!'
  

On my way home one day, I stopped to watch a Little League base ball game that was being played in a
park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-base line, I asked one of the boys what the score was  'We're behind 14 to nothing,' he answered with a smile.
 'Really,' I said. 'I have to say you don't look very discouraged.'
 'Discouraged?', the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face... 'Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet.'
  

Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott.
 Jamie was trying out for a part in the school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen.  On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement..  'Guess what,
Mom,' he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me....'I've been chosen to clap and cheer.'
  
Stories taken from the 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul

​As I remind you all, only you can make you feel small... average... run of the mill.  But everything in life is perspective.  Yours, mine ... and of course others.
 
"The Star Thrower" or "Starfish Story"* is a parable.  A simple story used to illustrate a moral or spiritual lesson.  It is vibrational because I feel it reminds us that we each have the power to make a difference in our life... and in the life of others. 
 
Once upon a time, there was an old man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach every morning before he began his work. Early one morning, he was walking along the shore after a big storm had passed and found the vast beach littered with starfish as far as the eye could see, stretching in both directions. 
 
Off in the distance, the old man noticed a small boy approaching.  As the boy walked, he paused every so often and as he grew closer, the man could see that he was occasionally bending down to pick up an object and throw it into the sea.  The boy came closer still and the man called out, “Good morning!  May I ask what it is that you are doing?”
 
The young boy paused, looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean. The tide has washed them up onto the beach and they can’t return to the sea by themselves,” the youth replied. “When the sun gets high, they will die, unless I throw them back into the water.”
 
The old man replied, “But there must be tens of thousands of starfish on this beach. I’m afraid you won’t really be able to make much of a difference.”
 
The boy bent down, picked up yet another starfish and threw it as far as he could into the ocean. Then he turned, smiled and said, “It made a difference to that one!”
 
Just take a breath, do something to help others and NEVER assume it won’t make a difference.  Every journey starts with one energy being taking that step, making that change... however big or small your steps are today, tomorrow, next week... take them and remember the vibration of being you.
 
Vibrational Blessings Debbie
 
*"The Star Thrower" (or "starfish story") is part of a 16-page essay of the same name by Loren Eiseley (1907–1977), published in 1969 in The Unexpected Universe. The Star Thrower is also the title of a 1978 anthology of Eiseley's works (including the essay), which he completed shortly before his death.
 

 A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.
 
She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.
 
Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to the Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.
 
She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment.

Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!
 
'And what do you want?' the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages,' he said without waiting for a reply to his question.
 
'Well, I want to talk to you about my brother,' Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone.

'He's really, really sick....and I want to buy a miracle.'
 
'I beg your pardon?' said the pharmacist.
 
'His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?'
 
'We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you,' the pharmacist said, softening a little.
 
'Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs.'
 
The pharmacist's brother was a well-dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, 'What kind of a miracle does your brother need?'
 
'I don't know,' Tess replied with her eyes welling up 'I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money.'
 
'How much do you have?' asked the man from Chicago.
 
'One dollar and eleven cents,' Tess answered barely audible.
 
'And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.'
 
'Well, what a coincidence,' smiled the man. 'A dollar and eleven cents---the exact price of
a miracle for little brothers.'
 
He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said 'Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need.'
 
That well-dressed man was a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery.  The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.
 
Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.
 
'That surgery,' her Mom whispered. 'was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?'
 
Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost...one dollar and eleven cents...plus the faith of a little child.
 
In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need.
 
A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law.

Anon

NB Whether this story is true or just an amazing writer sharing the gift of miracles it doesn’t matter.  What does is that you read it, and now will go out into the world and create and share your own miracles.   Debbie A. Anderson

When I count my blessings I count them twice and for that I am vibrationally blessed.  For many, the ability to count blessings isn’t always that easy.  Here is the story of just one boy, who was blessed in a way that later vibrationally made our world wonderful.  I am quite sure by the end of this blog you will recognize him. Vibrational Sharing Debbie A Anderson



Written by others:

A Grandson of slaves, a boy was born in a poor neighborhood of New Orleans known as the "Back of Town."

His father abandoned the family when the child was an infant, His mother became a prostitute and the boy and his sister had to live with their grandmother. Early in life he proved to be gifted for music and with three other kids he sang in the streets of New Orleans. His first gains were the coins that were thrown to them.

A Jewish family, Karnofsky, who had immigrated from Lithuania to the USA had pity for the 7-year-old boy and brought him into their home. Initially given 'work' in the house, to feed this hungry child. There he remained and slept in this Jewish families home where, for the first time in his life he was treated with kindness and tenderness.

When he went to bed, Mrs. Karnovsky sang him a Russian Lullaby that he would sing with her. Later, he learned to sing and play several Russian and Jewish songs. Over time, this boy became the adopted son of this family. The Karnofsky’s gave him money to buy his first musical instrument; as was the custom in the Jewish families. They sincerely admired his musical talent. Later, when he became a professional musician and composer, he used these Jewish melodies in compositions, such as St. James Infirmary and Go Down Moses.

The little black boy grew up and wrote a book about this Jewish family who had adopted him in 1907. In memory of this family and until the end of his life, he wore a star of David and said that in this family he had learned "how to live real life and determination."

You might recognize him…  This little boy was Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong (August 4, 1901 – July 6, 1971).  As the song goes… “……….what a wonderful world…..”.

Here are two stories, about two very different men, or are they?  I will let you decide, but only after you read both stories.

One lead a life filled with crime, the other was a hero.  

What we should take from these stories is that sometimes life gives us a second chance, the opportunity to make a vibrational difference.  Vibrational Sharing, Debbie A. Anderson
 
STORY NUMBER ONE
 
Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago.  Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.                                                           
 
Capone had a lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie." He was Capone's lawyer for a good reason.  Eddie was very good!  In fact, Eddie's skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.
 
To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well.   Not only was the money big, but Eddie got special dividends, as well.  For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day.  The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block.
 
Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him.  
 
Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly.  Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld.   Price was no object.
 
And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong.  Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was.
 
Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn't give his son; he couldn't pass on a good name or a good example.
 
One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done.
 
He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al "Scarface" Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity.  To do this, he would have to testify against The Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great.  So, he testified.
 
Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street.  But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay.  Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem clipped from a magazine.

The poem reads: "The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour.  Now is the only time you own….. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time.  For the clock may soon be still."
 
STORY NUMBER TWO
 
World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant Commander Butch O'Hare.
 
He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.
 
One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission.  After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank.
 
He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship.
 
His flight leader told him to return to the carrier.  Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet.
 
As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something that turned his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircraft was speeding its way toward the American fleet.
 
The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless.  He couldn't reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet.  Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.  There was only one thing to do.  He must somehow divert them from the fleet.
 
Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes.  Wing-mounted 50 caliber's blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another.  Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent.
 
Undaunted, he continued the assault.  He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible, rendering them unfit to fly.
 
Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction.
 
Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier.
 
Upon arrival, he reported in and related the event surrounding his return.  The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale.  It showed the extent of Butch's daring attempt to protect his fleet.  He had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft  
 
This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became the Navy's first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Medal of Honor.
 
A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29.  His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today, O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man.
 
So, the next time you find yourself at O'Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch's memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor.  It's located between Terminals 1 and 2.
 
SO WHAT DO THESE TWO STORIES HAVE TO DO WITH EACH OTHER?
 
Butch O'Hare was "Easy Eddie's" son.