A thought for the Holidays

Here is a poem that I hope will make a deep impression on everbody. It is a message that we all would do well to remember year-round.

THE COLD WITHIN

Six humans trapped by happenstance
in black and bitter cold
Each 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 one 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, shiftless 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 stilled hands
Was proof of human sin,
They didn�t die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.

Author- Unknown

Nice... Here is an e-mail I was sent..

Just read this slowly
>> > >
>> > >Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down:
>>73 in a 55
>> >zone. Fourth time in as
>> > >many months...... How could a guy get caught so often?
>> > >
>> > >When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled
>>over, but only
>> >partially. Let the cop worry
>> > >about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other
>> > >car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was
>>stepping out of
>> >his
>> >car, big pad in hand. Was that Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk
>>farther into
>> >his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A cop
>>catching a
>> >guy
>> >from his own church. A guy who
>> > > happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day
>>at the
>> >office.
>> >A guy he was about to play
>> > > golf with tomorrow.
>> > >
>> > > Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every
>>Sunday, a man
>> >he
>> >d never seen in uniform.
>> > >
>> > > Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
>> > > "Hello, Jack." No smile.
>> > > "Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and
>>kids."
>> >"Yeah,
>> >I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good. "I've seen some long days
>>at the
>> >office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit -just this
>>once." Jack
>> >toed
>> >at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane said something about roast
>>beef and
>> >potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"
>> > >
>> > > "I know what you mean. I also know that you have a
>>reputation in our
>> >precinct." Ouch. This was not
>> > > going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
>> > >
>> > > "What'd you clock me at?"
>> > >
>> > > "Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?"
>> > >
>> > > "Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw
>>you. I was
>> >barely
>> >nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
>> > >
>> > > "Please , Jack, in the car," Flustered, Jack hunched himself
>>through the
>> >still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard.
>>He was in no
>> >rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled
>>away on the
>> >pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
>> > >
>> > > Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before
>>Jack ever sat
>> >near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the
>>left. There
>> >was Bob, a folded paper in hand Jack rolled down the window a
>>mere two
>> >inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.
>>"Thanks." Jack could
>> >not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
>> > > Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched
>>his retreat
>> >in
>> >the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this
>>one going
>> >to
>> >cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke?
>>Certainly not a
>> >ticket. Jack began to read:
>> > >
>> > > "Dear Jack:
>> > > Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed
>>by a car. You
>> >guessed it-a speeding
>> > > driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was
>>free. Free to
>> >hug
>> >his daughters All three of
>> > > them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until
>>Heaven before
>> >I
>> >can ever hug her again. A
>> > > thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand
>>times I
>> >thought
>> >I had. Maybe I did, but I
>> > > need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful,
>>Jack, my son
>> >is all I have left."
>> > > "Bob"
>> > >
>> > > Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away and
>>head down the
>> >road. Jack watched until it
>> > > disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away
>>and drove
>> >slowly
>> >home, praying for forgiveness
>> > > and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.
>> > >
>> > > Life is precious. Handle with care. This is an important
>>message; please
>> >pass it along to your friends. Drive safely and carefully.
>>Remember, cars
>> >are not the only things recalled by their maker.

I apologize for the difficulty to read...due to the e-mail format... But it's a pretty poigniant message..