I took her out to eat in Nashville, Tennessee for helping me get over the flu. After that we became even better friends, but still no thought of marriage. A few months later I was going to take a new job in the Atlanta area with a Community College, so Cathy helped me pack up boxes to get ready to leave. We had a great time that day and had lunch together. Near the end of that day I noticed a few tears in Cathy's eyes, so I asked what was wrong.

She said, "I don't know if I can live without you, you are my best friend." I said, "I know, I've been thinking the same thing." That day we decided to get married and we have been married ever since. We have had our tough times,as many others have had, but we are still BEST FRIENDS!

When I get to the family unit in my Health class and we talk about marriage ...I always tell this story. My students seem to love it because they learn for the first time that giving, sharing and caring about others is all that really matters in life, and that sex, looks, money and other things are secondary.

By the way, my wife is 12 years younger than me, and she is beautiful. Coaches constantly kid her about marrying me, they say she must be blind. We have 2 beautiful children, but we still have dates on every week-end.

Cathy is the greatest thing (other than becoming a Christian) that has ever happened to me! She is a fantastic mother, and the best wife a coach could ever have. THANK GOD I GOT SICK 27 YEARS AGO!!

In Honor of My Wife,

Coach Ron Link

G. K. Chesterton
Iowe my success to having listened respectfully to the very best advice, and then going away and doing the exact opposite.

Erica Jong
Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn't.

Bill Cosby
A word to the wise ain't necessary, it's the stupid ones who need the advice.

A Touch of Heaven.
By: Tim Reynolds

It had been a very disheartening day. The doctors had given us the worst of news. Our daughter, who had just completed her first brain surgery to remove a tumor and was going through radiation treatments, was now offically given a two percent chance of survival as this type of cancer had no cure.

My wife and I decided to take our daughter to lunch before continuing our afternoon conversations. We went to a local resteraunt where we sat in silence waiting for the waitress. Our daughter Molly wouldn't hear of such sadness or silence so she played happily with crayons and paper while we sat and stared at the floor.

I noticed a very elderly couple sitting a few booths away, they too in silence never speaking a word. I couldn't help but wonder what challenges they had faced in their life and if they ever faced such terrible news about a child of theirs.

We eventually ordered our lunch and still sitting in silence we ate what we could. At some point I became intrigued by the old couple and I watched them more intently with each passing minute. I thought to myself that they hadn't yet spoken to each other and I wondered if it was the peace they were enjoying or the food or maybe both. However, at some point I lost interest and put my focus back on my lunch.

Molly was still talking away and enjoying her meal and her mom and I both listened and tried to be happy in her presence but it wasn't going very well. All of a sudden I saw this hand come out of nowhere. It was huge and I could tell that it had been afflicted with arthritis. The knuckles were swollen and the fingers were crooked and off center. I couldn't take my eyes of that hand. The hand drifted down and landed on my daughter's tiny six year old hand and as it did I looked up; it was the old woman who had been sitting with the old man in silence eating their lunch.

I looked into her eyes and she spoke, but not to me. She looked at my daughter and simply whispered, "If I could do more for you I would." And then she smiled and moved away to join her husband who had moved towards the door.

I heard a "Hey look, a whole dollar." Molly spoke with excitment as she discovered that the old lady had placed a crumpled one dollar bill on the back of her hand. I looked down and saw the dollar bill and quickly realized that it had been left behind by the old lady. I looked up to thank her, but she was gone. I sat stunned, not sure what had just happended and then I looked over at my wife. In almost unison, we broke out into a smile. The sadness of the day had been wiped out by the crippled hand and generous touch of an old lady.

The dollar, although exciting to Molly, was not what made us smile or begin to feel differently, it was the offer from an old lady who felt our hurt and our suffering. The crippled hand symbolized a healing touch and made us realize that we did not have to fight this battle alone; that others cared and wanted to help. We felt up-lifted and soon our day filled with more happy thoughts as we spent the rest of our lunch planning the next day at home with fun filled activities for eveyone.

I will never forget that crippled arthritic hand that taught us such an important lesson. One does not have to go through life facing hardships all alone; the world is full of compassionate and understanding people. Even those that are suffering from their own afflictions have much to give to each other.

The hand that covered Molly's on that day still covers it. And although Molly is no longer with me, I can see her holding hands with that old lady now, both hands perfect and both faces filled with smiles and laughter. And though Heaven has these two perfect angels now, the lessons that they both taught me will remain forever in my heart.

I found this on a site somewhere a while back...

By: Sean Swarner

Being the only person in the world to have ever had these two cancers, I really felt I should share my story to help motivate others and influence lives. On May 16th, 2002 at 9:32am, I became the first cancer survivor to summit Mt. Everest.

Since then, I have been lucky enough to reach the summits of three more of the world's seven highest peaks and have spoken internationally about my life and adventures to countless people and organizations. On the summit of Everest I brought a flag adorned with names of people who have been affected by cancer and left it on the top of the world forever commemorating the struggle of cancer patients worldwide.

I did the same to the highest point in Africa, Europe and just recently returned from 23,000-foot Aconcagua in South America! My ultimate goal is to climb the highest mountain on each continent AND trek to the North and South poles.

I am covering the globe with inspiration. There are plans for live chat sessions during the expeditions as well as TV spots and live summit bids from a number of the mountains! The reason for these expeditions is to inspire those affected by cancer (as well as anyone with a pulse!) to dream big and never give up.

Sean Swarner
seanswarner.com

The CancerClimber Association
www.cancerclimber.org
1st Cancer Survivor/Patient to Summit Everest
International Inspirational Speaker
Chief Spokesperson, International Spirit of Life Foundation

Let not him who is houseless pull down the house of another, but let him work diligently and build one for himself, thus by example assuring that his own shall be safe from violence when built.

 The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself in every way he can, never suspecting that anybody wishes to hinder him.

Set backs are common, but we rarely welcome them. We are inclined to respond negatively to adversity. It may be time to revisit that reflexive response.

I had an experience recently that caused me to reconsider whether a negative response to adversity is always justified when I was confronted with a life-threatening situation.

It was mid-morning on a warm and pleasant Saturday. I was in the midst of my first skydive of the day. It was my 2,123th jump since having taken up the sport fifteen years ago.

After about one minute of freefall and 5,000 above the ground, I parted ways with my fellow jumpers to get far enough away from them to open my parachute safely. I initiated opening around 3,000 feet above the earth.

My parachute opened with some twists in the lines between the parachute and me. This is not that uncommon. What was different this time was that I was not able to clear the twists.

The twists in the lines caused my parachute to take on an asymmetrical shape. Receiving asymmetrical inputs, the canopy did what it is designed to do and initiated a turn -- that's how it's steered. The problem occurred when the turn quickly became a rapid, diving downward spiral that was spinning me a full 360 degrees about once every second. This was a problem.

I looked up to assess my canopy and saw something I don't often see - the horizon clearly visible ABOVE the trailing edge of my canopy. This meant my canopy and I were now on roughly the same horizontal plane. In that I could see the horizon behind it, I was actually above my parachute and it was leading our fast spinning parade rapidly towards mother earth.

My first need was to acknowledge that I was not going to be able to solve this problem. This is not as easy as it seems. Having successfully completed over 2,100 jumps without having to resort to my second parachute, it was hard for me to believe I had really encountered a problem I could not solve. I had a natural inclination to assume I could fix this problem as I had all those in the past.

Sound familiar? It's always easy to lapse into denial when confronted with a problem. Until we acknowledge the problem and our possible inability to solve it - or to use the methods we have used in the past - we don't have a chance of making things better.

Fortunately, the urgency of this situation caused my hard-headed nature to yield much quicker than usual. That decision probably took a second or two.

The next step, having accepted the need to follow a different course than in the past, was to determine the course. Fortunately fifteen years of training and practice before every day of jumping took hold.

I looked straight down at the two handles on either side of my chest - one to release me from my malfunctioning canopy and one for deploying my reserve parachute - and realized I needed to quickly get them in my hands. I could not help but notice when I made eye contact with them, as had been ingrained in me during my First Jump Course way back in 1988, that by now the rapid spins had turned me back to earth and there beyond my toes was once again the horizon. This was bad!

Time was of the essence at this point not only because I was now rapidly progressing toward the horse pasture below me, but also because the centrifugal force I was starting to experience would soon make it impossible to get my hands to those two handles.

With my hands now securely on the handles, I was confronted with a bothersome question, "Now, which one goes first." The wrong order could cause my reserve parachute to deploy into my spinning main parachute which would result in an incurable entanglement.

Fortunately, ingrained training once again took over and I pulled them in the right order. First the handle on the right side which released me from my spinning main parachute followed by the handle on the left side to deploy my reserve parachute.

This brought on a wonderful experience. My malfunctioning black, teal and magenta canopy was replaced with a bright, yellow never before used reserve parachute. What a lovely sight! And all this by 1,700 feet - plenty of time to spare.

Many years ago, I read a book about the challenges and responsibilities of Secret Service agents. One of the sad aspects of that profession is that agents who never have the chance to validate their years of training by responding to a threat sometimes struggle severely in retirement. They are faced with not knowing - with certainty - how they would respond when faced with the paramount challenge their career can deliver. For this reason, agents who have faced such a challenge successfully are admired within the culture of the Service.

That Saturday morning, I had the privilege of facing a similar, life-threatening and I now realize life-defining challenge. I faced what Secret Service agents call "the dragon."

For all of us the greater dragon is not the external threat, whether it be an assassin's bullet, the unforgiving and fast approaching earth or another challenge. The real dragon is the self-doubt we carry within us.

For those few splendid moments after landing safely, I was able to put my foot firmly on the neck of the dragon ... and it felt great.

Keep this in mind the next time you are confronted with adversity. On the far side of the experiences the adversity presents, there could be a valuble gift - a renewed confidence and certainty.

Jim McCormick draws on his engineering degree, MBA and experience as a Chief Operating Officer of an international design firm to help organizations improve performance. He is co-author of Motivational Selling, editor of 365 Daily Doses of Courage and author of the forthcoming book Seize Opportunity - A Practical Guide to Taking Advantage of Opportunities. Jim is also a three time skydiving World Record holder and was a member of an international expedition that skydived to the North Pole. More information is available at www.TakeRisks.com and 970.577.8700.

Lying on a cold, hard bed only six months along with my first child, I faced the frightening implications of this truth. My body shook uncontrollably as abject terror clutched at me. My only lifeline was my husband's hand clutching mine over the abyss as love for life - mine and the tiny, still-unseen child's - burned deep in our hearts. One after another after another the nurses piled the bloody sheets into the corner until the doctor pronounced those fateful words, "The baby's coming."

Only then, with control slipping past me into a haze of drugs and fear, did I make that one, final leap - the leap from control to faith - the leap from childlessness into motherhood.

My next recollection was my husband's hand once again holding mine as he said the words that officially changed my life, "We have a little girl."

The images of the next two months blurred together as ups and downs alternated at break-neck speed. One minute spent holding my two-pound and yet weightless daughter in my arms versus the next three weeks spent holding only tiny fingers through the isolet window-waiting for the next opportunity to take my baby out of the incubator again.

The drugs, powerful enough to keep her safe from infection, again and again blew through her small veins while all I could do was watch, pray, and hang onto the faith that somehow we would get through this. If we could just make it to the next horizon, through the next transfusion and the next round of drugs, then I could live again. Until then survival was my only goal.

In the darkness of a soul in crisis, my prayers became much deeper. No longer were they for selfish requests. Now they were centered wholly on the tiny baby God had entrusted to my care. The Lord has said, "Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain you" (Psalms 55:22), and during those long days, that was what kept me going.

As good as that sounds, however, reality was that my only real positives at the time were formed by the negatives. "It's not pneumonia." "It's not an infection." "We won't have to put the IV in her head-this time." The struggle to live was being waged not only by the tiny baby lying helplessly in the incubator, but by her mother's spirit as well. Fear laced every call to the hospital, every question, every conversation. But always the faith remained. Somehow we would make it. Somehow God sustained me. Somehow.

Then in one faltered heartbeat the negatives became negatives again, and I faced a test of faith more terrifying than my own journey through the abyss - my baby's journey to the edge of the River Jordan. All her veins had been blown, and a new IV would have to go in her head - all the other options had been exhausted.

In utter desperation my husband and I left the hospital, and on a rain-soaked highway with the amber glow of the streetlights flashing above me, I reached a place that I never even knew existed - the place where faith no longer resides.

"Why?" I asked the darkness around me. "Why?"

But God has promised, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5), and I am here to tell you, He does send messengers to help when you ask. Truth is, mine was sitting right by my side - exactly where he had been through the whole ordeal. Slowly my husband reached over, took my hand, and spoke the words that I would cling to not only for this one night but for the rest of eternity. "She's going to be okay. You've just got to have faith."

Every day for the next five years that faith has been tested over and over again. Every time I let my baby-big girl, now-off at play school. Every time my second daughter lets go of my hand and walks off on her own. Every time one child or the other screams in pain or in fear at two o'clock in the morning - the words come back to me, "She's going to be okay. You've just got to have faith."

In the days to come, the phrase will only become more powerful. During the long nights when the girls fail to call and on the days when they experience their own griefs, the words will be there to help me through. Time and again as I hold my children for one brief moment and then release them into the abyss, the words will be there.

Through school, best friends, boyfriends, first dates, first heartbreaks, in partnership with God and my husband, I will remain the rock on which these two girls can build their lives. Until someday in some beautiful sunlit church, I will watch from a front pew as they stand before God and pledge themselves to another forever. Then as they turn, kiss me, and walk away into their own lives, the words will again be there. "She's going to be okay. You've just got to have faith."

The day will come of course when the abyss will stretch before me again "when Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall you also appear with Him in glory" (Colossians 3:4).

In some darkened room on another cold, hard bed I will step toward the abyss to make my final journey home. However, this time I will have not one but three sets of hands to hold onto. Then, looking up into the eyes of the two beautiful women my daughters have become, the sadness at our imminent parting will be there, but a greater understanding will hold me also.

Beyond a doubt, I know that as I slip from the darkness of this world into the light beyond, I will hear that voice one more time: "They're going to be okay. You've just got to have faith."

Work, stress, fear, worry. They're everywhere - except at StaciStallings.com. Here you'll find uplifting stories, articles to give you new insights into God's plan for your life, and a monthly newsletter that brings reminders of God's love right to your inbox (as well as to your heart). Come visit Staci for awhile. You'll feel better for the experience!