Chicken Soup for the Soul: Reader's Choice 20th Anniversary Edition

by Jack Canfield

  When God opens the door to a church, He opens it to all who want to come. I remember standing up inside a church one Sunday evening several years ago and saying, “If we have a welcome sign outside, we must welcome anyone who wants to worship. This is God’s house and all people are welcome.”

  This boldness came after I read “A Guy Named Bill.” If we want to join a social club that allows a select few to become members that is one thing. But nobody has the right to restrict anyone from coming to God’s house to worship.

  Today, I often speak at women’s events — banquets, teas and conferences. I see a variety of ladies as I stand before them and share God’s precious word with them. God does not show favoritism. Every time I look out over the audience, I see the people God loves.

  It is my heart’s desire that I will always demonstrate the same kind of love as the elderly deacon who met Bill at the front of the church. I will always welcome those who come with open arms. And I just might go and plop down beside them if they find a place on the floor. . .. Or better yet, I will offer them my seat, welcoming them in the same way God would welcome them. I will do unto others as I would have them to do unto me. I will show kindness.

  ~Nancy B. Gibbs

  A Guy Named Bill

  I’d rather see a sermon than hear one any day.

  ~Edgar A. Guest

  His name was Bill. He had wild hair, wore a T-shirt with holes in it, blue jeans and no shoes. In the entire time I knew him I never once saw Bill wear a pair of shoes. Rain, sleet or snow, Bill was barefoot. This was literally his wardrobe for his whole four years of college.

  He was brilliant and looked like he was always pondering the esoteric. He became a Christian while attending college. Across the street from the campus was a church full of well-dressed, middle-class people. They wanted to develop a ministry to the college students, but they were not sure how to go about it.

  One day, Bill decided to worship there. He walked into the church, complete with wild hair, T-shirt, blue jeans and bare feet. The church was completely packed, and the service had already begun. Bill started down the aisle to find a place to sit. By now the people were looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one said anything.

  As Bill moved closer and closer to the pulpit, he realized there were no empty seats. So he squatted and sat down on the carpet right up front. (Although such behavior would have been perfectly acceptable at a college fellowship, this was a scenario this particular congregation had never witnessed before!) By now, the people seemed uptight, and the tension in the air was thickening.

  Right about the time Bill took his “seat,” a deacon began slowly making his way down the aisle from the back of the sanctuary. The deacon was in his eighties, had silver-gray hair, a three-piece suit and a pocket watch. He was a godly man — very elegant, dignified and courtly. He walked with a cane and, as he neared the boy, church members thought, You can’t blame him for what he’s going to do. How can you expect a man of his age and background to understand some college kid on the floor?

  It took a long time for the man to reach the boy. The church was utterly silent except for the clicking of his cane. You couldn’t even hear anyone breathing. All eyes were on the deacon.

  But then they saw the elderly man drop his cane on the floor. With great difficulty, he sat down on the floor next to Bill and worshipped with him. Everyone in the congregation choked up with emotion. When the minister gained control, he told the people, “What I am about to preach, you will never remember. What you’ve just seen, you will never forget.”

  ~Rebecca Manley Pippert

  Really Growing Up

  The only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him.

  ~Henry L. Stimson

  I grew up in a small city in Connecticut and had everything going for me: great parents, two older brothers who watched out for me, and a good set of friends. But when I turned fifteen, I felt that I was being smothered by my family’s rules and the rules at school.

  Who were they to tell me what was best for me? I was smarter than any of those uptight rule makers! I skipped my sports practices and starting skipping class when I got into high school. I started smoking cigarettes, having a few beers, and smoked some pot with the “cool kids” on the path behind the school. I felt like I had finally figured out life and was having some real fun with my new friends, hot girls, and the coolest parties for the first time. By the time I was sixteen I had already experimented with some harsher drugs such as LSD and cocaine. I took Excedrin during the school day just to get the caffeine to make it through until lunch. Deep down I knew I was running down the wrong path but I didn’t care.

  During my sophomore year I started school with a new career selling pot. I was saving up for my first car, a Mitsubishi Conquest. I thought I would have the world at my fingertips once I didn’t have to rely on my brothers and friends to drive me around. I trusted my new friends and thought they would stay by my side no matter what. Turns out one of my friends was getting “pinched” and set me up to sell to an undercover cop. I sold the cop some drugs a couple of times and a week later my home was raided. I was busted!

  They surrounded my parents’ house, ran in the back yard and attacked my older brother Dennis while he was cooking on the grill, pushed my mom onto the couch, and made my brother Chris come upstairs to join us on the couch in his boxers, which was a funny sight since he had been innocently listening to music in his room. Two cops yelled at me to “freeze and drop the weapon.” I replied “It’s ChapStick!” They tackled me and then a policewoman kept checking my back pockets and was getting frustrated because I didn’t have a belt on and my pants kept falling down.

  They only found a few joints in the house but with the cop’s testimony I knew I was going away for a long time. They had four felonies on me and I could be spending the next twelve years in jail. I knew at that moment I had to start making better choices.

  My parents got me a good lawyer and I got the break of a lifetime. I was sentenced to one year at Manson’s Youth Institute and would have the chance to be home in six months if I demonstrated good behavior. I was never so scared in my life as when they brought me to an adult prison in New Haven to be processed. I will never forget that long ride in the “ice cream truck” as they called it.

  Within the first week I was being bullied by the older inmates until I won my first fight and got the new nickname of “Baby Gerber” since I looked so innocent. The first two weeks were like being in hell because of all of the withdrawal symptoms. The corrections officers were amazing and gave me a bunch of sugar packets to combat the symptoms.

  About a month or so into my stay my mom brought me a copy of Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul from my aunt who couldn’t come up to visit me. I never liked reading much and never even read any of the books I was supposed to in school but I read this book over and over every night. One of the stories that made a big impression on me was called “Broken Wing” and it was about a kid who had a long arrest record and was the biggest juvenile delinquent in his school. An adult decided to trust him, and actually put him in charge of a big charity program, and the kid turned out to be a born leader who earned everyone’s respect and did a great job.

  The book was like my escape. I read every story and related to each of them in some way or another. I started to write poetry for my girlfriend, jokes to do some stand up comedy to my friends, and songs for my new band once I got out. I started to realize that I had a choice as to how my life was going to go. I felt clearheaded for the first time in a long time. I knew that somehow I would be able to help others, just as this simple book was helping me. I was showing such progress and good behavior that I was going to be released six months early. My cellmate kept borrowing the book from me, so before I left I wrote a note on the back cover that said, “Don’t judge a book by the cover — read it, if it helps you let me know. Here’s my address. . .”

  I am thirty-two years old now and I have a beautiful wife, two wonderful kids, a grea
t family, and true friends. I have learned from my mistakes and I live a great life. Every once in a while I still get a letter from a kid in jail thanking me for leaving the book behind. As I walked out of that correctional facility many years ago the correctional officer told me “never look back or you’ll be back.” I took that advice seriously and have always looked ahead and appreciate that one-way ticket out of jail and trouble. I know that every day is a learning experience. We all make mistakes, but recognizing that once is a mistake and twice is a habit will help us to overcome any obstacle in life.

  ~Kevin Michael Nastu

  Broken Wing

  You were born with wings. Why prefer to crawl through life?

  ~Rumi

  Some people are just doomed to be failures. That’s the way some adults look at troubled kids. Maybe you’ve heard the saying, “A bird with a broken wing will never fly as high.” I’m sure that T. J. Ware was made to feel this way almost every day in school.

  By high school, T. J. was the most celebrated troublemaker in his town. Teachers literally cringed when they saw his name posted on their classroom lists for the next semester. He wasn’t very talkative, didn’t answer questions and got into lots of fights. He had flunked almost every class by the time he entered his senior year, yet was being passed on each year to a higher grade level. Teachers didn’t want to have him again the following year. T. J. was moving on, but definitely not moving up.

  I met T. J. for the first time at a weekend leadership retreat. All the students at school had been invited to sign up for ACE training, a program designed to have students become more involved in their communities. T. J. was one of 405 students who signed up. When I showed up to lead their first retreat, the community leaders gave me this overview of the attending students: “We have a total spectrum represented today, from the student body president to T. J. Ware, the boy with the longest arrest record in the history of town.” Somehow, I knew that I wasn’t the first to hear about T. J.’s darker side as the first words of introduction.

  At the start of the retreat, T. J. was literally standing outside the circle of students, against the back wall, with that “go ahead, impress me” look on his face. He didn’t readily join the discussion groups, didn’t seem to have much to say. But slowly, the interactive games drew him in. The ice really melted when the groups started building a list of positive and negative things that had occurred at school that year. T. J. had some definite thoughts on those situations. The other students in T. J.’s group welcomed his comments. All of a sudden T. J. felt like a part of the group, and before long he was being treated like a leader. He was saying things that made a lot of sense, and everyone was listening. T. J. was a smart guy and he had some great ideas.

  The next day, T. J. was very active in all the sessions. By the end of the retreat, he had joined the Homeless Project team. He knew something about poverty, hunger and hopelessness. The other students on the team were impressed with his passionate concern and ideas. They elected T. J. co-chairman of the team. The student council president would be taking his instruction from T. J. Ware.

  When T. J. showed up at school on Monday morning, he arrived to a firestorm. A group of teachers were protesting to the school principal about his being elected co-chairman. The very first communitywide service project was to be a giant food drive, organized by the Homeless Project team. These teachers couldn’t believe that the principal would allow this crucial beginning to a prestigious, three-year action plan to stay in the incapable hands of T. J. Ware. They reminded the principal, “He has an arrest record as long as your arm. He’ll probably steal half the food.” Mr. Coggshall reminded them that the purpose of the ACE program was to uncover any positive passion that a student had and reinforce its practice until true change can take place. The teachers left the meeting shaking their heads in disgust, firmly convinced that failure was imminent.

  Two weeks later, T. J. and his friends led a group of 70 students in a drive to collect food. They collected a school record: 2,854 cans of food in just two hours. It was enough to fill the empty shelves in two neighborhood centers, and the food took care of needy families in the area for 75 days. The local newspaper covered the event with a full-page article the next day. That newspaper story was posted on the main bulletin board at school, where everyone could see it. T. J.’s picture was up there for doing something great, for leading a record-setting food drive. Every day he was reminded about what he did. He was being acknowledged as leadership material.

  T. J. started showing up at school every day and answered questions from teachers for the first time. He led a second project, collecting 300 blankets and 1,000 pairs of shoes for the homeless shelter. The event he started now yields 9,000 cans of food in one day, taking care of 70 percent of the need for food for one year.

  T. J. reminds us that a bird with a broken wing only needs mending. But once it has healed, it can fly higher than the rest. T. J. got a job. He became productive. He is flying quite nicely these days.

  ~Jim Hullihan

  Coach Perry

  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

  ~Phillippians 4:13

  My husband Perry was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at age four. At that time, he was falling occasionally when he walked. At the age of twenty years old in 1996, the doctors realized that Perry actually had hereditary spastic paraparesis (also known as familial spastic paraplegia or FSP). It is an inherited neurological disorder characterized by gradual development of stiffness (spastic) and variable degrees of weakness (paraplegia) in the muscle and legs. This disease also causes spasms in the legs, leg cramps, poor balance and fatigue. Perry experiences these symptoms every day. It is not certain right now how his mobility to walk will be affected in the future. At the right time, Perry and I hope our Heavenly Father will bless us with children to love and cherish, even though there is a 50/50 chance they will inherit this disorder.

  As a result, Perry walks with a limp, dragging his toes with one foot in front of the other and uses the assistance of a cane. Without his cane, he walks around the house using walls, kitchen counter-tops and other furniture to help maintain his balance. Even though it takes every effort to walk and he feels tired throughout each day, Perry does not complain. With ongoing research, we hope and pray that his illness will someday be cured.

  Despite his handicap, Perry has had a great love for sports throughout his life. He was determined to play baseball and basketball with his friends when he was in middle school. Even with limitations, I admire him so much because Perry volunteers at the high school he graduated from. The students call him “Coach Perry.” His title is Equipment Manager, but he is so much more than that. His dedication to the school is one of the reasons why I love him more each day.

  Every football season, he dedicates himself to the team every day. After each practice and each game, he stays to make sure everything is put back where it belongs and then watches the replays with the other coaches. Sometimes I stay with him after the game. Perry has done this for twenty years plus, including four years as a student and he has only missed one game, due to the stomach flu. In December 8, 2006, my new family and I supported him and his school by going to the championship game at the New Orleans Superdome the night before our wedding day! He did not want to miss that for the world. His greatest football experience was in December of 2011, which happened to be the day after our fifth wedding anniversary, when the team went 15-0 and won their first state football championship in school history. All of those years had finally paid off!

  Perry also enjoys being involved with other sports. He is the announcer for the boys’ baseball team. If there is a function at the school and they need help, you will see him there. Because of everything he does, Coach Perry is well respected by the staff, students, and parents. He was “officially” recognized on May 12, 2007 at the St. Charles Catholic All Sports Banquet with the St. Charles Borromeo Award for loyalty and dedication to St. Charles Athletics. The St. Charles
Borromeo Award recognizes members of the school community who have given their time and talents to make the athletic department the best it can be. There have been many students who look up to Perry as a role model. I could not be prouder of him in that moment!

  Unfortunately at this time in the year of 2013, Perry feels he needs to step away because of the physical toll on his body due to the responsibilities of his occupation at school. It is uncertain when he will go back to the high school to do small physical tasks in the future.

  With my husband’s challenges and my own dyslexia and ADD, I was very moved by Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul. Every story in this book is special. As I read it, I felt like the stories were encouraging me to not give up during the challenging times in our marriage. It gave me a peace of mind that with our faith and love for each other, Perry and I can overcome obstacles together, being strong for one another, as well as all the other families I have read about.

  One story in particular, “Heaven’s Very Special Child” by John and Edna Massamilla, grabbed my complete attention. It began in 1954 when a family was taking their handicapped daughter to an institution where doctors felt she should live with other children like her. The girl’s mother turned on the car radio and heard a familiar voice. It was a former classmate of hers who had no legs. The next sentence blew me away. It read, “He was now president of an organization employing persons who are disabled.”

  I can’t begin to describe how I felt when I read that sentence. What better way for a person to help those who are disabled, needing employment, when he is disabled himself!

  ~Michelle Duplessis Prudhomme

  Heaven’s Very Special Child