In recent times approximately 70% of the coaching i am doing, is relationship coaching. So i was doing a little research when i came across a couple of websites i thought would be useful to share with you.

It isn’t a sexist thing, though a part of it pertains more to women than men, but in having read a lot, i think this is an area, where reading the opposite sexes opinion is beneficial in having a good understanding one another.

Also i would like to share a thank you for comments posted to my blog, i haven’t been posting in a long while, but i intend to be here more regularly now.

relationshipheadquarters
A relationship Blog

savvymiss
Cool site with lots of info

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead
love monika

This is a lovely Child’s Bedtime Song i want to share with you.

If I had two wishes, I know what they would be

I’d wish for roots to cling to and wings to set me free;

Roots of inner value, like rings within a tree

and wings of independance to seek my destiny.

Roots to hold forever to keep me safe and strong,

To let me know you love me, when I’ve done something wrong;

To show me by example and help me learn to choose,

To take those actions everyday to win instead of lose.

Just be there when I need yo, to tell me it’s all right,

To test my fear of falling when I test my wings in flight;

Don’t make my life too easy, it’s better if I try,

And fail and get back up myself, so I can learn to fly.

If I had two wishes and they were all I had,

And they could just be granted, by my mom and dad;

I woudn’t ask for money or any store bought things,

The greatest gifts I’d ask for are simply roots and wings.

I have realised it’s almost been a week since i posted last and today i got an e-mail from Healthy, Wealth and Wise. It really is a lovely but touching story and so i wanted to share it with you here.

A Box Full of Kisses

by: Author Unknown

The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, “This is for you, Daddy.”

The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, “Don’t you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside?

The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, “Oh, Daddy, it’s not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They’re all for you, Daddy.”

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.

Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.

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This evening i feel compelled to share the details of an e-mail i recieved from Jim Edwards. I will copy and paste the details for you. I have just added a post to the list myself and hope that you will help by doing the same.

Much love

Monika

Jim Edwards here with an update about an article I wish I never had to write…

This past Friday my son-in-law was severely injured when the vehicle he was driving in Iraq was struck by a road- side bomb. He and 3 of his team members were badly hurt, the fifth member of the team was killed.

My article this week is about how we can use the Internet to support the troops and their families (regardless of our personal feelings about this or any other war).

http://www.igottatellyou.com/blog/support-our-troops-online/

*** Now here’s the personal FAVOR I need from you: ***

Tomorrow (Wed. 10/31/07) we’re driving up to Walter Reed Hospital to meet him after his medical transport plane arrives from Germany.

If you feel comfortable doing it, I’d like to ask you to leave a comment on my blog with a get-well or inspirational thought for my son-in-law, Jon H.

I’m not asking for – nor will I accept – political commentary about the war! What I’m asking for is some positive energy, prayers, and good thoughts for his recovery and that of his friends.

I want to print the comments off and take them to him so he can read them when he’s feeling a little down or when he feels alone or doubtful about what he went through and why.

Again, if you feel it’s appropriate for you, please read the article and leave him a positive note on the blog.

I’ll consider it a personal favor.

Thanks

Jim

Information Please
by Author Unknown

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first
telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the
polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver
hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the
telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my
mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere
inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person her name
was “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not
know. “Information Please” could supply anybody’s number and
the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle
came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor.
Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked
my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there
didn’t seem to be any reason in crying because there was no
one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking
my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the
parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I
unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.
“Information Please,” I said into the mouthpiece just above
my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into
my ear.

“Information”

“I hurt my finger…” I wailed into the phone. The tears
came readily enough now that I had an audience.

“Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.

“Nobody’s home but me,” I blubbered.

“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.

“No,” I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it
hurts.”

“Can you open your icebox?” she asked. I said I could.

“Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your
finger,” said the voice.

After that, I called “Information Please” for everything. I
asked her for help with my geography and she told me where
Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my
pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just the day
before, would eat fruit and nuts. Then, there was the time
Petey, our pet canary died. I called “Information Please”
and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the
usual things grown ups say to soothe a child. But I was
unconsoled. I asked her, “Why is it that birds should sing
so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up
as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?” She must
have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “Paul,
always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.”
Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. “Information Please.”

“Information,” said the now familiar voice.

“How do you spell fix?” I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific
Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the
country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.
“Information Please” belonged in that old wooden box back
home and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny
new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into
my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations
never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and
perplexity, I would recall the serene sense of security I
had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and
kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put
down in Seattle I had about half-an-hour or so between
planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my
sister, who lived there now.

Then, without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my
hometown operator and said, “Information, please.”

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.

“Information.”

I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, ” Could
you please tell me how to spell fix?”

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, “I
guess your finger must have healed by now.”

I laughed, “So it’s really still you,” I said. “I wonder if
you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time.”

“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls meant
to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward
to your calls.”

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and
I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit
my sister.

“Please do,” she said. “Just ask for Sally.”

Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice
answered,”Information.”

I asked for Sally. “Are you a friend?” she said.

“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “Sally had
been working part time the last few years because she was
sick. She died five weeks ago.”

Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute. Is your
name Paul?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in
case you called. Let me read it to you.” The note said,
“Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in.
He’ll know what I mean.”

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.
Whose life have you touched today?

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Have you got a tear running down your cheek, or a lump in your throat? It’s it amazing that something so good can make you feel so good and bad at the same time, so heart felt. Well i hope you enjoyed this story as much as i did. I recieved this story form www.healthywealthynwise.com

Love always for you are always loved ~ Monika

If you are experiencing anxiety, depression or relationship problems due to perfectionist tendencies have a look at these following exercisers and experiment to see which ones work for you.

Imagine placing expectations of yourself onto another person. Do they still seem reasonable?

Think about the feedback you received whilst growing up. Was it appropriate? How did it make you feel?

If you are feeling overburdened, think of what you could drop. Can you delegate?

If you fear mistakes, make small ones deliberately. Send an e-mail with a typo and see what happens.

If you always have to be the best, join an evening class or group where you have no experience.

Confess to a small error. If telling a family member is the hardest, start with a friend or colleague.

Weigh the benefits of your high standards against the costs. Do you feel that the results you achieve are worth the stress and anxiety you experience?

If you feel your perfectionism is having a negative impact on you life, seek help. You are not admitting failure by doing so.

I have this information courteousy of Professor Gordon Flett

I recieved this poem in an e-mail, and found it touching and so 

wanted to share it with you here.

In the meantime I am plodding along getting my newsletter

ready to mail out and have enjoyed the research in putting 

it together.

The Cold Within

by: Author Unknown

Six humans trapped by happenstance

In black and bitter cold.

Each one possessed a stick of wood,

Or so the story's told. 

Their dying fire in need of logs,

The first woman held hers back

For on the faces around the fire,

She noticed one was black. 

The next man looking cross the way

Saw one not of his church,

And couldn't bring himself to give

The fire his stick of birch. 

The third man sat in tattered clothes;

He gave his coat a hitch.

Why should his log be put to use

To warm the idle rich? 

The rich man just sat back and thought

Of the wealth he had in store.

And how to keep what he had earned

>From the lazy poor. 

The black man's face bespoke revenge

As the fire passed from his sight,

For all he saw in his stick of wood

Was a chance to spite the white. 

And the last man of this forlorn group

Did naught except for gain.

Giving only to those who gave

Was how he played the game. 

The logs held tight in death's still hands

Was proof of human sin.

They didn't die from the cold without,

They died from the cold within.

Enjoy

love Monika