2006 Visited Mondulkiri

7 Deadly Social Sins

1. Politics without Principle
2. Wealth without Work
3. Commerce without Morality
4. Pleasure without Conscience
5. Education without Character
6. Science without Humanity
7. Worship without Sacrifice

Mahatma Gandhi

Chicken Soup

Ashely Hodgeson said, "First, a little kindness and confidence in people can make a great difference to them. And second, strength and courage aren’t always measured in medals and victories. They are measured in the struggles we overcome. The strongest people are not always the people who win, but the people who don’t give up when they lose."

I learned some good lessons from this book. What about you?

What Is Success?

What is success?
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children.
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

My New Best Friend

Today I met a great new friend
Who knew me right away
It was funny how she understood
All I had to say

She listened to my problems
She listened to my dreams
We talked about love and life

She’d been there, too, it seems

I never once felt judged by her
She know just how I felt
She seemed to just accept me
And all the problems I’d been dealt

She didn’t interrupt me
Or need to have her say
She just listened very patiently
And didn’t go away

I wanted her to understand
How much this meant to me
But as I went to hug her
Something startled me

I put my arms in front of me
And went to pull her nearer
And realized that my new best friend
Was nothing but a mirror.

Retold by Kimberly Kirberger
Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

Please Listen

When I ask you to listen to me
and you start giving a advice,
you have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me
and you begin to tell me why
I shouldn’t feel that way,
you are trampling on my feelings.
When I ask you to listen to me
and you feel you have to do something
to solve my problem,
you have failed me,
strange as that may seem.
Listen! All I ask is that you listen.
Don’t talk or do-just hear me.
Advice is cheap; 20 cents will get
you both Dear Abby and Billy Graham
in the same newspaper.
And I can do for myself; I am not helpless.
Maybe discouraged and faltering,
but not helpless.
When you do something for me that I can
and need to do for myself,
you contribute to my fear and
inadequacy.
But when you accept as a simple fact
that I feel what I feel,
no matter how irrational
then I can stop trying to convince
you and get about this business
of understanding what’s behind
this irrational feeling.
And when that’s clear, the answers me
obvious and I don’t need advice
Irrational feelings make sense when
we understand what’s behind them.
Perhaps that’s why prayer works, sometimes,
for some people-because God is mute,
and he doesn’t give advice or try
to fix things.
God just listens and lets you work
it out for yourself.
So please listen, and just hear me.
And if you want to talk, wait a minutefor you turn-and I will listen to you.

Author Unknown
Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

Somebody Should Have Taught Him

I went to a birthday party
but I remember what you said.
You told me not to drink at all,
so I had a Sprite instead.
I felt proud of myself,
the way you said I would,
that I didn’t choose to drink and drive,
though some friends said I should.
I knew I made a healthy choice and
your advice to me was right
as the party finally ended
and the kid drove out of sight.
I got into my own car,
sure to get home in one piece,
never knowing what was coming,
something I expected least.
Now I’m lying on the pavement.
I can hear the policeman say,
“The kid that caused this wreck was drunk.”
His voice seems far away.
My own blood is all around me,
as I try hard not to cry.
I can hear the paramedic say,
“This girl is going to die.”
I’m sure the guy had no idea,
while he was flying high,
because he chose to drink and drive
that I would have to die.
So why do people do it,
knowing that it ruins lives?
But now the pain is cutting me
like a hundred stabbing knives.
Tell my sister not be afraid,
tell Daddy to be brave,
and when I go to heaven to
put “Daddy’s girl” on my grave.
Someone should have taught him
that it’s wrong to drink and drive.
I’d still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter,
I’m getting really scared.
These are my final moments,
and I’m so unprepared.
I wish that you could hold me, Mom,
as I lie here and die.
I wish that I could say I love you and good-bye.

Retold by Jane Watkins
Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

Dead at 17

Agony claws my mind. I am a statistic. When I first got here, I felt very much alone. I was overwhelmed by grief, and I expected to find sympathy.

I found no sympathy. I saw only thousands of others whose bodies were as badly mangled as mine. I was given a number and placed in a category. The category was called “traffic fatalities.”

The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus! But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. “Special favor,” I pleaded. “All the kids drive.” When the 2:50 P.M. bell rang, I threw my books in the locker. Free until tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss.

It doesn’t matter how the accident happened, I was goofing off-going too fast, taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying freedom and having fun. The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. I heard a crash and felt a terrific jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.

Suddenly, I awakened. It was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn’t feel anything. Hey, don’t pull that sheet over my head. I can’t be dead. I’m only 17. I’ve got a date tonight. I’m supposed to have a wonderful life ahead of me. I haven’t lived yet. I can’t be dead!

Later I was placed in a drawer. My folks came to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at Mom’s eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? Dad suddenly looked very old. He told the man in charge, “Yes-he is our son.”

The funeral was weird. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. They looked at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked by.

Please-somebody-wake me up! Get me out of here. I can’t bear to see Mon and Dad in such pain. My grandparents are so weak from grief they can barely walk. My brother and sister are like zombies. They move like robots. In a daze. Everybody. No one can believe this. I can’t believe it, either.

Please don’t bury me! I’m not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing and dance. Please don’t put me in the ground! I promise if you give me just one more chance, God, I’ll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance. Please, God, I’m only 17.

John Berrio

Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

A Brother's Voice

Most people have an inspiration in their life. Maybe it’s a talk with someone you respect or an experience. Whatever the inspiration, it tends to make you look at life from a different perspective. My inspiration came from my sister Vicki, a kind and caring person. She didn’t care about accolades or being written about in newspapers. All she wanted was to share her love the people she cared about, her family and friends.

The summer before my junior year of college, I received a phone call from my father saying that Vicki was rushed to the hospital. She had collapsed and the right side of her body was paralyzed. Her doctors didn’t give her more than three months to live. I remember wondering how this could happen? The day before Vicki was perfectly fine. Now, her life was coming to an end at such a young age.

After overcoming the initial shock and feeling of emptiness, I decided that Vicki needed hope and encouragement. She needed someone to make her believe that she would overcome this obstacle. I became Vicki’s coach. Everyday we would visualize the tumor shrinking and everything that we talked about was positive. I even posted a sign on her hospital room door that read, “If you have any negative thoughts, leave them at the door.” I was determined to help Vicki heat the tumor. She and I made a deal that was called 50-50. I would do 50% of the fighting and Vicki would do the other 50%.

The month of August arrived and it was time to begin my junior year of college 3,000 miles away. I was unsure whether I should leave or stay with Vicki. I made the mistake of telling her that I might not leave for school. She became angry and said not to worry because she would be fine. There was Vicki lying ill in a hospital bed telling me not to worry. I realized that if I stayed it might send a message that she was dying and I didn’t want her believing that. Vicki needed to believe that she could win against the tumor.

Leaving the night feeling it might be the last time I would ever see Vicki alive was the most difficult thing I have ever done. While at school, I never stopped fighting my 50% for her. Every night before falling asleep I would talk to Vicki, hoping that there was some way she could hear me. I would say, “Vicki I’m fighting for you and I will never quit. As long as you never quit fighting we will beat this.”

A few months had passed and she was still holding on. I was talking with an elderly friend and she asked about Vicki’s situation. I told her that she was getting worse but that she wasn’t quitting. My friend asked a question that really made me think. She said, “Do you think the reason she hasn’t let go is because she doesn’t wan tot let you down?”

Maybe she was right? Maybe I was selfish for encouraging Vicki to keep fighting? That night before falling asleep, I said to her, “Vicki, I understand that you’re in a lot of pain and that you might like to let go. If you do, then I want you to. We didn’t lose because you never quit fighting. If you want to go on to a better place then I understand. We will be together again. I love you and I’ll always be with you wherever you are.”

Early the next morning, my mother called to tell me that Vicki had passed away.

James Malinchak
Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

A Long Walk Home

Experience: that most brutal of teachers.
But you learn, my God do you learn.
C. S. Lewis

I grew up in the south of Spain in a little community called Estepona. I was 16 when one morning, my father told me I could drive him into a remote village called Mijas, about 18 miles away, on the condition that I take the car in to be serviced at a nearby garage. Having just learned to drive and hardly ever having the opportunity to use the car, I readily accepted. I drove Dad into Mijas and promised to pick him up at 4 P.M., then drove to a nearby garage and dropped off the car. Because I had a few hours to spare, I decided to catch a couple of movies at a theater near the garage. However, I became so immersed in the films that I completely lost track of time. When the last movie had finished, I looked down at my watch. It was six o’clock. I was two hours late!

I knew Dad would be angry if he found out I’d been watching movies. He’d never let me drive again. I decided to tell him that the car needed some repairs and that they had taken longer than had been expected. I drove up to the place where we had planned to meet and saw Dad waiting patiently on the corner. I apologized for being late and told him that I’d come as quickly as I could, but the car had needed some major repairs. I’ll never forget the look he gave me.

“I’m disappointed that you feel you have to lie to me, Jason.”
“What do you mean? I’m telling the truth.”
Dad looked at me again. “When you did not show up, I called the garage to ask if there were any problems, and they told me that you had not yet picked up the car.” A rush of guilt ran through me as I feebly confessed to my trip to the movie theater and the real reason for my tardiness. Dad listened intently as a sadness passed through him.

“I’m angry, not with you but with myself. You see, I realize that I have failed as a father if after all these years you feel that you have to lie me. I have failed because I have brought up a son who cannot even tell the truth to his own father. I’m going to walk home now and contemplate where I have gone wrong all these years.”
“But Dad, it’s 18 miles to home. It’s dark. You can’t walk home.”

My protests, my apologies and the rest of my utterances were useless. I had let my father down, and I was about to learn one of the most painful lessons of my life. Dad began walking along the dusty roads. I quickly jumped in the car and followed behind, hoping he would relent. I pleaded all the way, telling him how sorry I was, but he simply ignored me, continuing on silently, thoughtfully and painfully. For 18 miles I drove behind him, averaging about 5 miles per hours.

Seeing my father in so much physical and emotional pain was the most distressing and painful experience that I have ever faced. However, it was also the most successful lesson. I have never lied to him since.

Jason Bocarro
Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

The Birthday

As I sat in the chair by the window and felt the warm June sunshine on my arm, I had to remind myself where I was. It was hard to believe that behind the nicely finished oak cabinets hid various medical equipment, and that in a moment’s notice the ceiling tiles could be removed to reveal surgical lights. Except for the few instruments and the IV cart next to the bed, it barely looked like hospital room. While looking at he carefully selected wallpaper and furnishings, I remembered back to that, not so long before, when this adventure first began.

It was a crisp October day. Our field hockey term had just won a 2-1 victory over Saratoga. I dropped, exhausted but excited, into the passenger said of our car. While leaving the school my mother mentioned that she had gone to the doctor that day. “For what?” I asked, becoming nervous as I ran through all the ailments my mother could possible have.

“Well…” She hesitated and my worry increased. “I’m pregnant.”
“You’re what?” I exclaimed.
“Pregnant,” she repeated.

I was speechless to say the least. I sat in the car and all I could think was that these things do not happen to your parents when you are a sophomore in high school. Then the realization that I was going to have to share my mother hit me. The mother who had been all my own for 16 years. I was overcome with resentment and confusion over a tiny person nesting inside my mom. I had never wanted my mother to have another child after she remarried. This was a selfish feeling, but when it came to my mom, I was reluctant to shear the smallest bit of her.

When I saw the shock and joy in my stepfather’s eyes when he was told of the impending arrival of his first child, I could not help but feel excited. I could hardly wait to tell everyone and my joy showed on the outside. On the inside, though, I was trying to deal with my fear and anger.

My parents involved me in all the preparations, from decorating the nursery to picking out names to going to Lamaze classes and deciding that I could be present for the baby’s birth. But despite all the excitement and happiness this pregnancy brought, it was hard to hear my friends and relatives constantly talk about the new baby. I feared that I would be pushed back into the woodwork when the baby came. Sometimes when I was alone, all the resentment fore what this child was going to take from me would overcome the joy.

Sitting in the delivery room that June 17, knowing that the baby would soon be here, I began to feel all my insecurities surface. What was my life going to be like? Would it be one endless baby-sitting job? What would I have to give up? Most important, would I lose my mother? The time to ponder and worry was rapidly melting away. The baby was coming.

It was the most incredible experience of my life, being in the delivery room that day, for birth is truly a miracle. When the doctor announced that it was a girl, I cried. I had a baby sister.

All my fears and insecurities have passed now, with the help of a warm and understanding family. I cannot explain how special it is to have a tiny person who waits with me every morning until my ride to school comes and then, as Mom holds her in the window, waves her little hand good-bye. It is so wonderful to come home and not even have a chance to take off my coat before she is tugging at me to come to play with her.

I realize now that there is plenty of love in my home for Emma. My resentment for what I thought she would take away had been erased with the realization that she took away nothing and instead brought so much to my life. I never thought I could love a baby this much, and I would not trade the joy I get from being her big sister for anything.

Melissa Esposito
Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

I Try to Remember

Everybody Doesn’t Have to Love me
Not everybody has to love me or even like me. I don’t necessarily like everybody I know, so why should everybody else like me? I enjoy being liked and being loved, but if somebody doesn’t like me, I will still be okay and still feel like I am an okay person. I cannot make somebody like me, any more than someone can get me to like him or her. I don’t need approval all the time. If someone does not approve of me, I will still be okay.

It Is Okay to Make Mistakes
Making mistakes is something we all to, and I am still a fine and worthwhile person when I make them. There is no reason for me to get upset when I make a mistake. I am trying, and if I make a mistake, I am going to continue trying. I can handle making a mistake. It is okay for others to make mistakes, too. I will accept mistakes in myself and also mistakes that others make.

Other People Are Okay and I Am Okay
People who do things I don’t like are not necessarily bad people. They should not necessarily be punished just because I don’t like what they do or did. There is no reason why other people should be the way somebody else wants me to be. People will be whatever they want to be, and I will be whatever I want to be. I cannot control other people or change them. They are who they are; we all deserve basic respect.

I Don’t Have to Control Things
I will survive if things are different than what I want them to be. I can accept things the way they are, accept people the way they are, and accept myself the way I am. There is no reason to get upset if I can’t change things to fit my idea of how they ought to be. There is no reason why I should have to like everything. Even if I don’t like it, I can live with it.

I Am Responsible for My Day
I am responsible for how I feel and what I do. Nobody can make me feel anything. If I have a rotten day, I am the one who allowed it to be that way. If I have a great day, I am the one who deserves credit for being positive. It is not the responsibility of other people to change so that I can feel better. I am the one who is in change of my life.

I Can Handle It When Things Go Wrong
I don’t need to watch out for things to go wrong. Things usually go just fine, and when they don’t, I can handle it. I don’t have to waste my energy worrying. The sky won’t fall in; things will be okay.

It Is Important to Try
I can. Even though I may be faced with difficult tasks, it is better to try than to avoid them. Avoiding a task does not give me any opportunities for success or joy, but trying does. Things worth having are worth the effort. I might not be able to do everything, but I can do something.

I Am Capable
I don’t need someone else to take care of my problems. I am capable. I can care of myself. I can make decisions for myself. I can think for myself. I don’t have to depend on somebody else to take care of me.

I Can Change
I don’t have to be a certain way because of what has happened in the past. Every day is a new day. It’s silly to think I can’t help being the way I am. Of course I can. I can change.

Other People Are Capable
I can’t solve other people’s problems for them. I don’t have to take on other people’s problems as if they were my own. I don’t need to change other people or fix up their lives. They are Capable and can take care of themselves, and can solve their own problems. I can care and be of some help, but I can’t do everything for them.

I Can Be Flexible
There is more than one way to do something. More than one person has had good ideas that will work. There is no one and only “best” way. Everybody has ideas that are worthwhile. Some may make more sense to me than others, but everyone’s ideas are worthwhile, and everyone has something worthwhile to contribute.

Author Unknown
Submitted by Allison Stevenson

Source: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul