I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back."The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old. The Cashier said, "I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll."

Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?''

The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.''

Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand. Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.

"It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas.

She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her."

I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly. "No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there."

His eyes were so sad while saying this. "My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.''

My heart nearly stopped.

The little boy looked up at me and said: "I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall."

Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me "I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me."

"I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister."

Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. "Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''

"OK" he said, "I hope I do have enough." I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said: "Thank you God for giving me enough money!"

Then he looked at me and added, "I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!''

"I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.''

"My mommy loves white roses."

A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.

Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.

The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma.

Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.

I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.

She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.

I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever.. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.

And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.

Now you have 2 choices:

1) Repost this message, or

2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart _

This is a story about God. Read if you believe in him, and read even if you don't.

A teenage girl about 17 named Diane had gone to visit some friends one evening and time passed quickly as each shared their various experiences of the past year. She ended up staying longer than planned, and had to walk home alone. She wasn't afraid because it was a small town and she lived only a few blocks away. As she walked along under the tall elm trees, Diane asked God to keep her safe from harm and danger.

When she reached the alley, which was a short cut to her house, she decided to take it. However, halfway down the alley she noticed a man standing at the end as though he were waiting for her. She became uneasy and began to pray, asking for God's protection. Instantly a comforting feeling of quietness and security wrapped round her, she felt as though someone was walking with her. When she reached the end of the alley, she walked right past the man and arrived home safely.

The following day, she read in the newspaper that a young girl had been raped in the same alley just twenty minutes after she had been there. Feeling overwhelmed by this tragedy and the fact that it could have been her, she began to weep. Thanking the Lord for her safety and to help this young woman, she decided to go to the police station.She felt she could recognize the man, so she told them her story. The police asked her if she would be willing to look at a lineup to see if she could identify him. She agreed and immediately pointed out the man she had seen in the alley the night before. When the man was told he had been identified, he immediately broke down and confessed. The officer thanked Diane for her bravery and asked if there was anything they could do for her. She asked if they would ask the man one question. Diane was curious as to why he had not attacked her. When the policeman asked him, he answered, "Because she wasn't alone. She had two tall men walking on either side of her." Amazingly, whether you believe or not, you're never alone. Did you know that 98 of teenagers will not stand up for God, and 93 of the people that read this won’t repost it?

Repost this if you truly believe in God.

PS: God is always there in your heart and loves you no matter what,
and if you stand up for him he will stand up for you.

Try Not To Cry

Mommy...Johnny brought a gun to school,

He told his friends that it was cool,

And when he pulled the trigger back,

It shot with a great, huge crack.

Mommy, I was a good girl, I did what I was told,

I went to school, I got straight A's, I even got the gold!

When I went to school that day,

I never said good-bye.

I'm sorry that I had to go, But Mommy, please don't cry.

When Johnny shot the gun, he hit me and another,

And all because Johnny, got the gun from his brother.

Mommy, please tell Daddy; That I love him very much,

And please tell Zack; my boyfriend; That it wasn't just a crush.

And tell my little sister; That she is the only one now, And tell my dear sweet grandmother; I'll be waiting for her now

And tell my wonderful friends; That they always were the best

Mommy, I'm not the first, I'm no better than the rest

Mommy, tell my teachers; I won't show up for class,

And never to forget this, And please don't let this pass

Mommy, why'd it have to be me? No one, though. deserves this.

But mommy, it's not fair, I left without a kiss.

I think I even saw one doctor, trying not to cry.

Mommy, I'm slowly dying, with a bullet in my chest,

But Mommy please remember, I'm in heaven with the rest

When I heard that great, big crack, I ran as fast as I could

Please listen to me if you would,

I wanted to go to college, I wanted to try things that were new

I guess I'm not going with Daddy, On that trip to the new zoo I wanted to get married, I wanted to have a kid,

I wanted to be an actress, I really wanted to live.

But Mommy I must go now, The time is getting late, Mommy, tell my Zack, I'm sorry I had to cancel the date. I love you Mommy, I always have, I know you know its true

And Mommy all I need to say is, "Mommy, I love you"

In Memory of The Columbine & Virginia Tech
Students Who Were Lost

Please if you would,

Don't smash this on the ground.

If you pass this on,

Maybe people will cry,

Just keep this in your heart,

For the people who didn't get to say "Good-bye".

Now you have 2 choices,

1) Pass this on, and show people you care, repost as
"Try Not To Cry"
2) Don't send it, and you have just proven how
cold-hearted you really are...

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in
his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.
I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the
small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when
you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life
here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to.
And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter
said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the
people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people,"
whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and
his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which
were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his
previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got
home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to
give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was
trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go
anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my
other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old
stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in but it became pretty
clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to. I tried the normal commands the
shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel,"
and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to
listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my direction after the
fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing
whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then
grudgingly obey.

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some
unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I
could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks
to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone
amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of
boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the
"damn dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also
found his pad and other toys from the shelter.. I tossed the pad in
Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like
that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced
in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a
discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the
shelter phone number.

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten
about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see
if your previous owner has any advice."...

To Whoever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the
shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy
writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last
car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew
something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set
them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew
something was wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have to go to
try to make it right.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond
with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's
part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his
mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't
matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really
don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him
dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go
Over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - "sit," "stay," "come,"
"heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you
put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left.
"Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down"
when he feels like lying down - I bet you could work on that with him some
more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's
business.

I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like
little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again
at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the Shelter has the
brand.

He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info
with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be
forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car - I
don't know how he knkows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been
Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please
include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the
backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around
people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live
with someone new.

And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you...

His name's not Reggie.

I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter,
I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it
and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. but I just couldn't bear
to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that
handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never
see him again.

And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it
means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well... well
it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond
with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if
he's been giving you problems.

His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive.

Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has
been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie"
available for adoption until they received word from my company commander.
See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank
with... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to
Iraq, that they make one phone call the the shelter... in the "event"...
to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel
is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do
it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.
Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly,
I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for
a wife and kids and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the
last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.

And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he
will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an
inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those
who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible people from
coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to
have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I
honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this
letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank,
though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and
see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss
goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you, Paul Mallory

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard
of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local
kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at
half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at
the dog. "Hey, Tank," I said quietly. The dog's head whipped up, his ears
cocked and his eyes bright.

C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.
He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't
heard in months.

"Tank," I whispered. His tail swished. I kept whispering his name, over
and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his
posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I
stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and
hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank
reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball? His
ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my
hands and disappeared in the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

OBITUARY FOR THE LATE MR. COMMON SENSE

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as: Knowing when to come in out of the rain; why the early bird gets the worm; Life isn't always fair; and Maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6 year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get Parental consent to administer Calpol, sun lotion or a band-aid to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason.

He is survived by his 3 stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, Someone Else Is To Blame, and I'm A Victim. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.