It's a Wonderful Life

By Leandra Lynch, MD,
from Medical Economics

Fresh out of residency, I moved to Woodland Hills, Calif., to take a job in a small community hospital's emergency department. As the newest member of the group, I got last dibs on shifts. No one wanted to work on Christmas Eve, so the shift went to me. I kissed my family goodbye and went off to spend the night in the hospital. It was a thankless job.

At 9 p.m., the ambulance brought in a man in his 60s who was having a heart attack. His face was pale, gray, and he was frightened. In the early '80s, clot-busting drugs weren't generally available. My patient was unstable, but I did my best and he hung in there. Eventually we were able to move him out of the ER and into the ICU. Before I left in the morning to spend Christmas with my family, I stopped by to see how he was doing. It was still touch and go, but he had survived the night and was sleeping.

Emergency physicians don't have continuing relationships with patients like other doctors. We get the suddenly sick, the wounded. Often they're scared. Sometimes they're angry at us, just because we're there. They pass through our hands and out the door. We rarely see them again. I thought no more about my heart patient. The following year, still the newest member of the group, I got Christmas Eve duty again and dragged myself off to work. At 9 p.m. sharp, the ward clerk told me there was a couple in the lobby who wanted to speak with me.

Spreading Light

When I approached them, the man introduced himself as Mr. Lee and said, "You probably don't remember me, but last Christmas Eve you saved my life. Thank you for the year you gave me." He and his wife hugged me, handed me a small gift, and left. I was more than a little surprised -- and touched.

The following year a new doctor had joined the group, and my family was delighted that I could stay home Christmas Eve. But I wanted to see if Mr. and Mrs. Lee would return. This time, I volunteered for the shift.

I kept an eye on the door. Once again, at exactly 9 p.m., the Lees appeared, carrying a snugly wrapped bundle. It was their new grandchild. We all embraced, and Mr. Lee said he'd come see me every Christmas Eve, and that if he didn't come, well, I would know that it just wasn't his year.

I worked the emergency department for the next ten Christmas Eves, and though I treated a great many trauma patients, there was never anyone quite like Mr. Lee. Each year at exactly 9 p.m. he'd appear, twice with new grandchildren. One year he came with a great-grandchild.

Mr. Lee, his family and I spent 13 Christmas Eves together. In the later years the staff all knew about the ritual and would work to give me time with him in the break room. In this small space cluttered with bulletin boards, the coffeepot, a microwave and refrigerator, we spent a half-hour each Christmas Eve.

The last year I saw him, he brought me a gift. I carefully unwrapped the package and found a crystal bell inside. It was engraved with a single word: Friendship. Mr. Lee died the next year, the year I moved to Crested Butte, Colorado. Now, my family, friends and I ring that bell every Christmas Eve at exactly 9 p.m. and offer a toast to the man who didn't forget.

Taken : RDAsia

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The Generous Vegetable Seller

After the morning hustle and bustle, the atmosphere at Tai-tung county’s Central Market quietens as every stall shuts for the day and their owners return to the comfort of their homes. A lone lamp shines on a vegetable stall. With head bowed, Chen Shu-Chu silently sorts out the vegetable leaves as she waits for the occasional afternoon customer. Decades of hard work have caused the fingers on the right hand to curl and joints to swell; her feet have deformed slightly.

Chen leads her life with a daily routine – waking up at three in the morning, she makes her way to the vegetable wholesaler and sets up her stall, which she tends till seven or eight in the evening. Being the first to arrive and last to leave, the other stall owners have fondly given her the title of ‘market manager’.


Chen's frugality has allowed her to donate over $3000,000 to many charitable causes. Photo: Marc Gerritsen



In the dark and damp market, Chen, nearing her sixties, holds the stall her father left her dearly. Yuan-Jin Vegetables is her everything. With her vegetables selling at “a bundle for 30 dollars, three bundles for 50”, Chen earns only marginal profits. Yet, her frugality has allowed her to donate about NT$10 million ($321,550) towards various charitable causes, including helping schools, orphanages and poor children.

The selfless generosity of a woman with such humble income has placed her under the international spotlight. In March, Forbes magazine named her one of 48 outstanding philanthropists from the Asia-Pacific region. A month later, TIME magazine selected the year’s top 100 influential people and Chen emerged under the ‘Heroes of Philanthrophy’ category. Fellow Taiwanese and Oscar-winning director Lee Ang wrote her entry personally. “Money is only worthy if given to those in need,” he quoted Chen. He also wrote, “Amazing, but of all she has given away, her greatest gift is leading by example.”

Despite the honour of receiving the TIME award in New York, gaining global recognition, and a personal meeting with President Ma Ying-jeou, all Chen really cares about is her vegetable stall. If not for President Ma and the foreign minister personally convincing her to go, she would not have agreed to visit New York as she felt “this is not a competition and I did not win anything”. Amid the frenzy of applying for a passport and preparing for the visit, Chen’s main concern was that her regular customers would not get their vegetables.

Chen has become a celebrity in Taitung county. Local authorities decorated her stall with congratulatory posters and banners hailing her as the ‘Pride of Taitung’ and the ‘Model of Philanthropy’. There are fans who turn up at the stall with a vegetable basket and a camera, hoping for a picture with Chen. Despite all the attention, Chen remains humble. “I have done nothing extraordinary and everyone who wants to can do it. There are many other charitable people; we just don’t know about them.” Chen, who is unmarried, adds, “I do not place great importance on money. When I donate to help others, I feel at peace and happy, and I can sleep well at night.” She also feels for the poor having experienced hardship in her younger days.



Born in 1950, Chen lost her mother after completing her primary school education. Her mother was admitted to hospital due to difficulties in labour and the family had to pay an insurance of NT$5000 ($160) before medical attention could be granted. Chen saw her father asking their neighbours for money but it was too late to save her mother. The eldest daughter in the family, Chen had to grow up overnight. She gave up her studies and dedicated her life to helping at the vegetable stall.

When she was 18, her younger brother fell sick and the illness dragged on for over a year, gradually depleting the family’s savings. Doctors suggested the family send her brother to Taiwan National University Hospital, but how could they afford the fees? Huang Shun-zhong, a teacher at Ren-ai Primary School, started a donation drive. Unfortunately, her brother could not be saved.

After experiencing the kindness bestowed upon her family, Chen made up her mind to help the poor once she was able. When her father passed away 17 years ago, Chen, a devoted Buddhist, generously donated NT$1 million ($32,140) to Fo Guang Shan Monastery. In 2000, she donated NT$1 million to her alma mater, Ren-ai Primary School, to set up an “Emergency Relief Fund” to help poor children obtain financial help.

Assisting in the setting up and maintenance of the fund is Li Guorong, who teaches Chen’s nephew. In 2001, Li had a plan to build a library for the school and estimated the cost to be between NT$4 million and NT$5 million. When he approached Chen, in the hope that she might contribute NT$50,000, Li was shocked when Chen said she would fund the entire project. While the school was sceptical, Chen was determined. In May 2005, the two-storey library was completed and named “Chen Shu-Chu Library” in honour of the ‘Vegetable Market heroine’ alumnus. She had donated NT$4.5 million.

Chen’s ability to donate such large sums of money has led many to ask, How can a mere vegetable seller earn so much?

“Spend only what you need, and you’ll be able to save up a lot of money!” says Chen. Since 1996, she has been donating NT$36,000 ($1150) to help three children in the Kids-alive International organisation. To achieve this, Chen explains that she empties her loose change into three little cardboard boxes at home every night. “This is a simple act that can be done by anyone, isn’t it?” says Chen.

Chen leads a very simple life without any luxuries. Neither does she have any desire for material gains nor any form of enjoyment. Work, she says, is her enjoyment. “I love my work. If I didn’t, would I be able to work 16 hours a day?” All she needs is food and a place to sleep. Everything else is a luxury.

Has business improved after winning the award? “Business is as usual,” Chen says. “I still need to sell my vegetables, not much has changed.” Advertisers have approached her to film commercials, financial managers have offered to manage her finances and other well-wishers have offered to donate money. Chen rejects these advances politely. “It is easy to return borrowed money, but difficult to return a favour,” she says.

“My philosophy in life is simple: If doing something makes you worried, then it must be a wrong thing. If it makes you happy, then you must have done the right thing. What others say is not important,” says Chen. She is content with what she has and feels that as long as she “lives a life she wishes for and does the things she wants, that is good enough”.

Taken from www.rdasia.com.my

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Kisah Nyata - Kebesaran Jiwa Seorang Ibu

Sebuah kisah lama yang patut dibaca dan direnungkan berkali- kali betapa baiknya ibunda kita, bagaimana besarnya pengorbanan ibunda kita dstnya

Kejadian ini terjadi di sebuah kota kecil di Taiwan, tahun berapaan udah lupa. Dan sempat dipublikasikan lewat media cetak dan electronic. Ada seorang pemuda bernama A be (bukan nama sebenarnya). Dia anak yg cerdas, rajin dan cukup cool. Setidaknya itu pendapat cewe2 yang kenal dia. Baru beberapa tahun lulus dari kuliah dan bekerja di sebuah perusahaan swasta, dia sudah dipromosikan ke posisi manager. Gajinya pun lumayan.Tempat tinggalnya tidak terlalu jauh dari kantor.

Tipe orangnya yang humoris dan gaya hidupnya yang sederhana membuat banyak teman2 kantor
senang bergaul dengan dia, terutama dari kalangan cewe2 jomblo. Bahkan putri owner perusahaan tempat ia bekerja juga menaruh perhatian khusus pada A be.

Di rumahnya ada seorang wanita tua yang tampangnya seram sekali. Sebagian kepalanya botak dan kulit kepala terlihat seperti borok yang baru mengering. Rambutnya hanya tinggal sedikit di bagian kiri dan belakang. Tergerai seadanya sebatas pundak. Mukanya juga cacat seperti luka bakar. Wanita tua ini
betul2 seperti monster yang menakutkan. Ia jarang keluar rumah bahkan jarang keluar dari kamarnya
kalau tidak ada keperluan penting.

Wanita tua ini tidak lain adalah Ibu kandung A Be. Walau demikian, sang Ibu selalu setia melakukan
pekerjaan routine layaknya ibu rumah tangga lain yang sehat. Membereskan rumah, pekerjaan dapur,
cuci-mencuci (pakai mesin cuci) dan lain-lain. Juga selalu memberikan perhatian yang besar kepada
anak satu2-nya A be. Namun A be adalah seorang pemuda normal layaknya anak muda lain.
Kondisi Ibunya yang cacat menyeramkan itu membuatnya cukup sulit untuk mengakuinya.

Setiap kali ada teman atau kolega business yang bertanya siapa wanita cacat dirumahnya, A be selalu menjawab wanita itu adalah pembantu yang ikut Ibunya dulu sebelum meninggal. "Dia tidak punya saudara, jadi saya tampung, kasihan." jawab A be. Hal ini sempat terdengar dan diketahui oleh
sang Ibu. Tentu saja ibunya sedih sekali. Tetapi ia tetap diam dan menelan ludah pahit dalam hidupnya. Ia semakin jarang keluar dari kamarnya, takut anaknya sulit untuk menjelaskan pertanyaan mengenai dirinya.

Hari demi hari kemurungan sang Ibu kian parah. Suatu hari ia jatuh sakit cukup parah. Tidak kuat bangun dari ranjang. A be mulai kerepotan mengurusi rumah, menyapu, mengepel, cuci pakaian, menyiapkan segala keperluan sehari-hari yang biasanya di kerjakan oleh Ibunya. Ditambah harus menyiapkan obat-obatan buat sang Ibu sebelum dan setelah pulang kerja (di Taiwan sulit sekali cari pembantu, kalaupun ada mahal sekali). Hal ini membuat A be jadi BT (bad temper) dan uring-uringan di rumah.

Pada saat ia mencari sesuatu dan mengacak-acak lemari ibunya, A be melihat sebuah box kecil.
Di dalam box hanya ada sebuah foto dan potongan koran usang. Bukan berisi perhiasan seperti dugaan A be. Foto berukuran postcard itu tampak seorang wanita cantik. Potongan koran usang memberitakan tentang seorang wanita berjiwa pahlawan yang telah menyelamatkan anaknya dari musibah kebakaran. Dengan memeluk erat anaknya dalam dekapan, menutup dirinya dengan sprei kasur basah menerobos api yang sudah mengepung rumah.

Sang wanita menderita luka bakar cukup serius sedang anak dalam dekapannya tidak terluka sedikitpun. Walau sudah usang, A be cukup dewasa untuk mengetahui siapa wanita cantik di dalam foto dan siapa wanita pahlawan yang dimaksud dalam potongan koran itu. Dia adalah Ibu kandung A be. Wanita yang sekarang terbaring sakit tak berdaya.

Spontan air mata A be menetes keluar tanpa bisa dibendung. Dengan menggenggam foto dan koran
usang tersebut, A be langsung bersujud disamping ranjang sang Ibu yang terbaring. Sambil menahan tangis ia meminta maaf dan memohon ampun atas dosa-dosanya selama ini. Sang ibupun ikut menangis, terharu dengan ketulusan hati anaknya. "Yang sudah-sudah nak, Ibu sudah maafkan.
Jangan di ungkit lagi". Setelah sembuh, A be bahkan berani membawa Ibunya belanja ke supermarket.

Walau menjadi pusat perhatian banyak orang, A be tetap cuek bebek. Kemudian peristiwa ini menarik perhatian kuli tinta (wartawan). Dan membawa kisah ini ke dalam media cetak dan elektronik. Ketika membaca kisah ini di media cetak, saya sempat menangis karena tidak sempat bersujud di hadapan mamaku. Mamaku telah meninggal 3 th lebih saat itu.

Teman2 yang masih punya Ibu (Mama atau Mami) di rumah, biar bagaimanapun kondisinya, segera bersujud di hadapannya. Selagi masih ada waktu ya.

Source : Kumpulan Renungan Harian

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24 Things to Always Remember. . . and One Thing to Never Forget

your presence is a present to the world.
You're unique and one of a kind.
Your life can be what you want it to be.
Take the days just one at a time.

Count your blessings, not your troubles.
You'll make it through whatever comes along.
Within you are so many answers.
Understand, have courage, be strong.

Don't put limits on yourself.
So many dreams are waiting to be realized.
Decisions are too important to leave to chance.
Reach for your peak, your goal, and your prize.

Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.
The longer one carries a problem, the heavier it gets.
Don't take things too seriously.
Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.

Remember that a little love goes a long way.
Remember that a lot . . . goes forever.
Remember that friendship is a wise investment.
Life's treasures are people . . . together.

Realize that it's never too late.
Do ordinary things in an extraordinary way.
Have heath and hope and happiness.
Take the time to wish upon a star.

And don't ever forget . . .
For even a day . . .
How very special you are.

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