Nicolas Winton chartered 3 trains to rescue children in Czechoslovakia from Hitler’s Nazis in 1938. The children were taken to England where he organized for numerous families to adopt them. He saved the lives of 669 children this way. And these children had children who had children, and today, there are 7,000 people who would otherwise not be. Nicholas hid his story until his wife discovered it in a scrap book in their attic 50 years after the event occurred. She gave his scrap book to the BBC who honored him by sharing his work with the world in a public broadcast. In this video, Mr. Winton sits in an audience not knowing that the program is about him. He sits unaware that the people who surrounded him are the very children whose lives he saved 50 years earlier. The people who surround him do not know who Nicolas Winton is. They never met the man who saved their lives until now. No more needs to be said.  

The Millionaire Janitor

Saints wrapped up in inconspicuous packages

Homeless man helps family stay out of homelessness

Curtis Jackson’s story


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 Rexall's 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 ho w 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 audibly. “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 Dr. Carlton Armstrong, 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.

Author - Unknown

Maybe, Maybe not.”

Once upon a time in a village lives a man.

He only has one horse.

And this horse does all the work for him

One day, the horse runs away.

All the people in the village went to the man and said, "Oh, we are so so sorry. You've lost your only horse. Now you are so poor."

And the man says, "Maybe, maybe not."

And then the net day, the horse returns and brings 20 mares with it.

And all the people in the village went to the man said, "Oh, praise God. You are the richest man in the village. You must be so happy."

And the man says, "Maybe, maybe not."

And the next day, the man's son rides the horse and falls off of it and becomes paralyzed.

All the people in the village went to the man and said, "Oh, we are so so sorry. Your son is now paralyzed. Now you are so poor."

And the man says, "Maybe, maybe not."

Then the next day there is a war and all the sons must go to fight in the war. All but his son because he was paralyzed.

And all the people in the village went to the man and said, "Oh, praise God. You are the luckiest man in the village because all our sons have been killed in the way. You must be so happy."

And the man says, "Maybe, maybe not."

If you can’t improve upon silence, remain silent.

Love, Mom and Dad


So much love

Two Tenors

It is said…

This story is about two tenors – Placido Domingo and Jose Carreras -- who moved the world through their song.

Their story begins before they were even born with the bitter entanglement between the Catalanes and Madrilenos in Spain. These two groups of people shared common ground – Spain – but neither lived or live as friend or neighbour.  History lives eternally in the people of today and without solution there is no resolution.  And so the old fairy tales fail to fade and the historical baggage is carried forward.  Placido Domingo is Madrileno and Jose Carreras is Catalan and true to their ancestors, they carried on the hatred for one another and refused to step on stage together and sing their song.

In 1987, Carreras was diagnosed with Leukemia.   His career ended abruptly as he made his way through the maze of medicine. Frequent bone marrow transplants and blood transfusions eventually exhausted his financial reserves and he was no longer able to afford further medical care. Grace came in the form of a discovery. Carreras had stumbled across a foundation that had been set up soleyly to support people suffering from Leukemia. Thanks to the support of this foundation -- The Hermosa Foundation, Carreras conquered the disease and was able to return to the stage.

Grateful for what the foundation had done for him, Carreras went to support it. In his investigation, he discovered that the founder, president and leading contributor of the foundation was Placido Domingo.  He later found out that Placido had formed this organization to help him with his treatment, but had chosen to remain anonymous in order for Carreras to accept help from his “enemy.”

Then one day, in a humbling public display of atonement, Carreras interrupted a performance with Placido in Madrid, knelt down and asked forgiveness.


Global warming, terrorism, global economic meltdowns, inflation, famine, social unrest, water shortages, earthquakes, tsunamis and breeches to nuclear reactors all attest to the fact that You are crucially needed. But you feel insignificant and hopeless and helpless. "I'm just one person. What can I do?" you ask. You can do a lot.

You can love and be loved…

The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind

William Kamkwamba

William William made a windmill. He was poor. He was unable to continue his studies because his father could not pay his tuition. He found a book about windmills and made one and then people said he was crazy and then people said he chased away the clouds and caused the draught in Malawi and then he was discovered and sent abroad to share what he had done and then he was given a scholarship to a school in South Africa and then he is going to move mountains because he is a leader and a visionary and believes in not only the power of the wind, by in the power of the people…

In·tel·li·gence  [in-tel-i-juhns]

Inte - between + ligene - line


Imagine being hated for who you are.

Imagine no one wants to be your friend.

Imagine being accused of being incapable of loving.

“My mother has had Alzheimer's disease for 14 years and although she cannot converse any longer we can sing together. Her full story and our family’s journey of love and healing is in my book, Looking for Lionel.”

     -Sharon Snir

“You don’t a book by its cover.

You’ve got to read what’s inside”

Alice Herz Sommer

108-year-old Holocaust Survivor

What I learned in my long life?

…to be thankful for everything…

being in a good health,

seeing the sun

seeing a smile

a nice word from somebody

everything is a present.

This I learned…

to be thankful for everything.”

You is kind.

You is smart.

You is important.

             – from The Help

Caine’s Arcade

I can increase my height


                                         A true story
The brand new Rabbi and his wife were newly assigned to their first congregation to reopen a Temple in suburban Brooklyn. They arrived in early February excited about their opportunities. When they saw their Temple, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Erev Purim. They worked hard, repairing aged pews, plastering walls, painting, etc, and on 8th of the Adar (February 17th) they were ahead of schedule and just about finished. On February 19 a terrible snowstorm hit the area and lasted for two days. On the 21st, the Rabbi went over to the Temple. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high. The Rabbi cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Erev Purim service, headed home. 
On the way home, he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity, so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Mogen David embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size to cover the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the Temple. By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The Rabbi invited her to wait in the warm Temple for the next bus 45 minutes later. She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the Rabbi while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The Rabbi could hardly believe ho beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area. 
Then the Rabbi noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet. "Rabbi, "she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?" The Rabbi explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Poland. The woman could hardly believe it as the Rabbi told how he had just gotten "The Tablecloth".
The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Poland. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. He was captured, sent to a camp and never saw her husband or her home again. The Rabbi wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the Rabbi keep it for the Temple. The Rabbi insisted on driving her home. That was the least h could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.

What a wonderful service they had on Erev Purim. The Temple was almost full. The Service was great. At the end of the service, the Rabbi and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return. One older man, whom the Rabbi recognized from the neighborhood continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the Rabbi wondered why he wasn't leaving. The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Poland before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike? He told the Rabbi how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a camp. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years between.
The Rabbi asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the Rabbi had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Erev Purim reunion he could ever imagine.

Change the World with Kindness

Joynal Abedin still remembers the rainy and windy night when he saw his father die because there was no medical treatment. His village in the northern Mymensingh district of Bangladesh did not have any medical facility at that time, and the nearest hospital was about 12 miles away. The death of his father, about 30 years ago, changed the life of Mr Abedin, who was working as a farm laborer then. He could not console himself and vowed to establish a basic medical center in his village of Tanashadia, about 60 miles north of the capital Dhaka, so that lives of poor villagers could be saved.

Though he had the ambition, he had no money, so he set out for the capital Dhaka with his wife.

Mr Abedin vowed to start a clinic to help villagers after his father's death. "When I landed in Dhaka it was a new experience for us. We were amazed by the size and energy of the city. Initially, we were not sure how we could survive there," Mr Abedin, 61, remembers.

Like many other migrants, he started pulling a rickshaw. But it was not easy in the city's busy traffic. Gradually, he learnt how to negotiate swerving cars and trucks. For two decades, Mr Abedin pulled rickshaws, carrying passengers and goods from one point of the city to another.

His wife, Lal Banu, managed to find a job as an assistant in a local clinic. But Mr Abedin always kept a secret from his wife. He opened a bank account to save money and start a health clinic in his village. His wife did not know about it. "Sometimes my wife used to argue with me for not bringing enough money to run the family. But I always saved some money. Even during difficult times, I never touched my savings," Mr Abedin recalls.

After he had saved more than $4,000, Mr Abedin decided to return to his village. It was a surprise move as villagers who come to Dhaka seeking livelihoods normally prefer to stay in the capital - given its better hospital and school facilities - and better basic services.

Mr Abedin bought a small plot of land with his savings. He built a tin roof house for himself and then built another shed for the clinic. With the remaining money he bought a few tables and beds for the clinic. When he shared his idea of starting a clinic with his fellow villagers, they did not take him seriously. "People were making fun. They did not believe that a rickshaw puller could start a clinic. Even doctors were not willing to come to this centre," reminisces Mr Abedin.

Mr Abedin named his clinic as Mumtaz Hospital. He initially requested a paramedic to give first aid treatment. As the news went out, more villagers came to the clinic to get basic treatment. Those with serious conditions were referred to a hospital in the town of Mymensingh. Every day, the medical centre treats around 100 patients. A local paramedic treats patients in the clinic and a doctor pays a weekly visit.

With the help of some individuals and companies Mr Abedin has also set up a basic pharmacy, which distributes medicines for free to the patients. The health center treats minor ailments like fever, diarrhea and simple injuries and helps those who suffer from asthma. It also has a small maternity ward, but those with complications are immediately referred to a hospital. The staff members also talk to rural women on maternal health and childcare.

Villagers from neighboring areas speak highly of Mr Abedin's work. They commend the former rickshaw puller's determination and courage. "This hospital helps poor people like us in this area. The government hospital is far away and I cannot afford private clinics. So, I come here whenever I require treatment and it's free," said Abdul Malik, a farmer living in a nearby village.

When the local media reported on his work and his clinic, some individuals donated money to him, which he used to build a couple of more tin roof sheds and started a coaching center for primary school students. The coaching center caters to the children of day laborers and farmers. More than 150 students are studying Bengali, Arabic and basic math and English.

"Though it is not a proper hospital, Mr Abedin's clinic offers vital support to the villagers. He has become a role model in our country," Lokman Hossain Miah, a senior government official in Mymensingh district, told the BBC. "We have given free books to the students there and are also trying to arrange donations from individuals for the clinic."

It is unusual in a country like Bangladesh for a rickshaw puller to invest his entire savings to start a clinic for others. Rickshaw pullers are among the bottom rung of society and earn less than a dollar a day. Mr Abedin stopped being a rickshaw puller late last year because of ill health. He spends his time looking after his clinic.

"Previously, when I was a rickshaw puller, people use to ignore me and I faced lots of abuse. Now people are showing respect, they are inviting me to their houses to have tea with them. This would have never happened if I had been a normal rickshaw puller," said Mr Abedin. "My dream is to convert this clinic into a full-fledged hospital with the help of the government and other donors."

By Anbarasan Ethirajan  


Rickshaw puller starts clinic for the poor

Dong Yun Rong’s Got talent.

It’s called love.


Take a good look world.

If they can do it, why can't we?


By Salina

I was here


I want to leave my footprints on the sands of time

Know there was something that, and something that I left behind

When I leave this world, I'll leave no regrets

Leave something to remember, so they won't forget

I was here

I lived, I loved

I was here

I did, I've done, everything that I wanted

And it was more than I thought it would be

I will leave my mark so everyone will know

I was here

I want to say I lived each day, until I die

And know that I meant something in, somebody's life

The hearts I have touched, will be the proof that I leave

That I made a difference and this world will see

I was here

I lived, I loved

I was here

I did, I've done, everything that I wanted

And it was more than I thought it would be

I will leave my mark so everyone will know

I was here

I lived, I loved

I was here

I did, I've done, everything that I wanted

And it was more than I thought it would be

I will leave my mark so everyone will know

I was here

I just want them to know

That I gave my all, did my best

Brought someone to happiness

Left this world a little better just because

I was here

I was here

I lived, I loved

I was here

I did, I've done, everything that I wanted

And it was more than I thought it would be

I will leave my mark so everyone will know

I was here

I was here


100% Pure Heart



She's Alive... Beautiful... Finite... Hurting... Worth Dying for


A Love Song