We all need an inspirations in our lives. Today, we are giving you four of the best inspirational stories that will taught us all a special life lessons.
If you are looking for inspirational quotes instead, you can check them here.
Let’s get started.
1. This is the most important bank ever and you should invest on it
Do you value your possessions? This story will tell you the most important possession you’ve neglected for so long…
Imagine there is a bank, which credits your account each morning with $86,400, carries over no balance from day to day, allows you to keep no cash balance, and every evening cancels whatever part of the amount you had failed to use during the day.
What would you do? Draw out every pence, of course!
Well, everyone has such a bank. Its name is Time.
Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose.
It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft. Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the records of the day.
If you fail to use the day’s deposits, the loss is yours.
There is no going back. There is no drawing against the “tomorrow.”
Therefore, there is never not enough time or too much time. Time management is decided by us alone and nobody else.
It is never the case of us not having enough time to do things, but the case of whether we want to do it.
2. This teacher just removed all the desks from her classroom to teach her class a very important lesson…
A real story about an educator teaching her class the value of freedom and the price it takes to have it.
Back in September of 2005, on the first day of school, Martha Cothren, a social studies school teacher at Robinson High School in Little Rock, did something not to be forgotten.
On the first day of school, with permission of the school superintendent, the principal and the building supervisor, she took all of the desks out of the classroom.
The kids came into first period, they walked in, there were no desks. They obviously looked around and said, “Ms. Cothren, where’s our desks?”
And she said, “You can’t have a desk until you tell me how you earn them.”
They thought, “Well, maybe it’s our grades.”
“No,” she said.
“Maybe it’s our behavior.”
And she told them, “No, it’s not even your behavior.”
And so they came and went in the first period, still no desks in the classroom. Second period, same thing, third period.
By early afternoon television news crews had gathered in Ms. Cothren’s class to find out about this crazy teacher who had taken all the desks out of the classroom.
The last period of the day, Martha Cothren gathered her class.
They were at this time sitting on the floor around the sides of the room.
And she says, “Throughout the day no one has really understood how you earn the desks that sit in this classroom ordinarily.” She said, “Now I’m going to tell you.”
Martha Cothren went over to the door of her classroom and opened it, and as she did 27 U.S. veterans, wearing their uniforms, walked into that classroom, each one carrying a school desk.
And they placed those school desks in rows, and then they stood along the wall.
And by the time they had finished placing those desks, those kids – for the first time I think perhaps in their lives – understood how they earned those desks.
Martha said, “You don’t have to earn those desks. These guys did it for you.
They put them out there for you, but it’s up to you to sit here responsibly to learn, to be good students and good citizens, because they paid a price for you to have that desk, and don’t ever forget it.”
3. This patient doesn’t respond to anything, ever, until this hospice volunteer did something extraordinary…
An inspiring story about how simple it is to connect with others as long as we take the time, and with God’s guidance.
As a Hospice Volunteer, I’m told my Nursing Home patient is not responsive to stimulation.
She doesn’t respond to anyone. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t show emotion.
When I visited, even though it was July, I ‘played’ a tape of Christmas Carols… something we all can relate to… something we’re all familiar with.
She has dementia.
She has forgotten so much.
She has forgotten how to live. I hold her hands. I look into her eyes.
I talk to her as the music plays.
I watch as I see a smile upon her face.
I listen as she tries to speak. I hug her. I remind her she is a ‘child of God’.
I remind her of the gift He is to each of us. As we listen to songs that speak of His birth, I remind her that He died for us.
He hung upon the Cross at Calvary for our sins.
I glance around to see her friend has tears streaming down his face.
Why? “She hasn’t smiled or spoken for so long… I can’t remember”, he says.
He’s been there every day for 8 years to watch over her.
He has been there but everyone has told him she doesn’t respond.
So he just sits with her. He does what he can, but frankly, he doesn’t know what to do.
He too is lost. He has watched her plight as she diminished in health over the years, but he never let her down in his faithfulness to her.
He was always a loving presence for her. Now, once again, he has just seen ‘a spark’ in his sweet lady. He too smiles.
Most every time I visited after that I’d find him…
There in her room, talking to her, as he held her hand and he never left without telling her “I love you” and hugging her.
There wasn’t much response… but there was ‘that little bit’ and he reached out for it on every visit.
One day, as he was about to leave he reached behind her to hug me. He then said “I love you” to her, as he has so many times before.
She doesn’t respond. He walks past her to leave, his back to her, and says “She knows I love her, don’t you gal?”.
There! A sudden, loud ‘Yes’ is in the air. She spoke. He moved on. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t compose himself.
She’d confirmed what we all knew by then. She heard. She loved. She was trying so hard to express herself.
Did I make a difference? Yes… But only because I was trained to believe that hearing is the last sense to leave us.
I leaned heavily on that belief and her friend learned from me.
No one had ever told him what to do, how he could communicate with her, that she might hear him though she didn’t respond, so he had given up.
But he never gave up on loving her. He never gave up on coming to check on her.
Now she responds. It’s a smile… a word here and there… a little move of her fingers against his as he hold her hands.
But it’s all communication. She had it all along. Is it because no one was listening to her? Because no one was talking to her? I suppose. But that’s all changed.
One night I sit in a chair beside her bed and told her how fortunate she was to have someone to come visit her each day, reminding her of how much he loved her!
How much I loved her! How very much God loved her! I knew in my heart she understood me.
I cried as I talked. I let my emotions go.
She squeezed my hand, as I saw tears roll from her eyes. She did hear. She remembered love and compassion, though she may have forgotten all else over the years.
The circumstances are different… but that’s the way God is toward us.
We forget Him. We put Him aside for worldly things. And though we think He isn’t hearing us, when we call out to Him, He is there.
He is our Guide and our Protector. He constantly shows us Love and Compassion, but we have to open our hearts to hear Him and feel His warmth.
Only then can we truly share Him with others… like this woman who may have needed to be reminded that God was still with her.
I stayed with her the night she died. Her face glowed with “the peace of God, which passeth all understanding,” as she took her last breath. Philippians 4 describes it best.
4. This teacher faces her toughest assignment yet… And her entire class is helping her to get through it
A story of triumph amidst troubles, a teacher is encouraged by her students to face her toughest battle yet.
Like most elementary schools, it was typical to have a parade of students in and out of the health clinic throughout the day.
We dispensed ice for bumps and bruises, Band-Aids for cuts, and liberal doses of sympathy and hugs.
As principal, my office was right next door to the clinic, so I often dropped in to lend a hand and help out with the hugs.
I knew that for some kids, mine might be the only one they got all day.
One morning I was putting a Band-Aid on a little girl’s scraped knee.
Her blonde hair was matted, and I noticed that she was shivering in her thin little sleeveless blouse.
I found her a warm sweatshirt and helped her pull it on. “Thanks for taking care of me,” she whispered as she climbed into my lap and snuggled up against me.
It wasn’t long after that when I ran across an unfamiliar lump under my arm.
Cancer, an aggressively spreading kind, had already invaded thirteen of my lymph nodes. I pondered whether or not to tell the students about my diagnosis.
The word breast seemed so hard to say out loud to them, and the word cancer seemed so frightening.
When it became evident that the children were going to find out one way or another, either the straight scoop from me or possibly a garbled version from someone else, I decided to tell them myself.
It wasn’t easy to get the words out, but the empathy and concern I saw in their faces as I explained it to them told me I had made the right decision.
When I gave them a chance to ask questions, they mostly wanted to know how they could help. I told them that what I would like best would be their letters, pictures and prayers.
I stood by the gym door as the children solemnly filed out. My little blonde friend darted out of line and threw herself into my arms.
Then she stepped back to look up into my face. “Don’t be afraid, Dr. Perry,” she said earnestly, “I know you’ll be back because now it’s our turn to take care of you.”
No one could have ever done a better job. The kids sent me off to my first chemotherapy session with a hilarious book of nausea remedies that they had written.
A video of every class in the school singing get-well songs accompanied me to the next chemotherapy appointment.
By the third visit, the nurses were waiting at the door to find out what I would bring next. It was a delicate music box that played “I Will Always Love You.”
Even when I went into isolation at the hospital for a bone marrow transplant, the letters and pictures kept coming until they covered every wall of my room.
Then the kids traced their hands onto colored paper, cut them out and glued them together to make a freestanding rainbow of helping hands.
“I feel like I’ve stepped into Disneyland every time I walk into this room,” my doctor laughed.
That was even before the six-foot apple blossom tree arrived adorned with messages written on paper apples from the students and teachers.
What healing comfort I found in being surrounded by these tokens of their caring.
At long last I was well enough to return to work. As I headed up the road to the school, I was suddenly overcome by doubts.
What if the kids have forgotten all about me?
I wondered, What if they don’t want a skinny bald principal? What if I caught sight of the school marquee as I rounded the bend.
“Welcome Back, Dr. Perry,” it read.
As I drew closer, everywhere I looked were pink ribbons – ribbons in the windows, tied on the doorknobs, even up in the trees. T
he children and staff wore pink ribbons, too.
My blonde buddy was first in line to greet me. “You’re back, Dr. Perry, you’re back!” she called. “See, I told you we’d take care of you!”
As I hugged her tight, in the back of my mind I faintly heard my music box playing… “I will always love you.”
Which inspirational story resonates well with you? Let us know in the comment section below! Have a great one!
