Being cheerful in hard times – I


We, Romanians have a saying: be cheerful in hard times ( “a face haz de necaz”). In a way it’s part of our structure. In more ways even it’s part of my structure too. I would rather give a long laugh to any trouble. But sometimes I would scream a long crying out too. This last sentence highlighted quite more in the last 3 years… When a different adventure has started…

I have fallen in love. It happens in a normal way to all humans… It’s a great feeling and is worth it. The story of my love is quite interesting and many friends who know already about it encouraged me to write a book which could inspire others.

One day definitely I will start writing my own novel.  Not sure only if to inspire, even I want to bring as much hope as possible, but to make aware regarding some issues of our reality.  Till then I just walk through the whole path of immigration procedures, witnessing a Brexit which impacts vital aspects of our lives. Till then I just write my lines here, trying to point out peaks and valleys, while bullying and racism are still alive and are embracing each other in a stand against foreigners.

The great part is still by my side: my husband finally joined me in UK, about 7 month ago, after a long wait for family reunion ( 1 year and 7 months).  The sad part is written by procedures of a Home Office, which plays with people feelings and lives. The nightmare seems still carry on.

The other good part is that I love a lot my job. I am a Radiographer and I enjoy my work. The other sad part is the uncertainty of the new regulations regarding foreigners once Brexit will happen.

One great part takes place in our house too. My husband usually cooks for us delicious dinners. Enjoying them with a glass of wine sometimes, but all the time with a cheerful smile on our faces. Cause at the end of the day, we are still alive, we are together, we are happy.

Keep going for your dreams. While there is life, there is hope!



Life’s Waltz

I  woke up that morning and saw
on other peculiar seconds
how dreams were dancing on floor.

They told to the walls to break away
while stars were embracing the game
and showed me the magical way.

In whispers I got kindly  charm
From all the wishes I thought
I lost them while passing the road.

I woke up that morning and felt like
a part of my heart has been hugged
In a dance of the grace with the angels.

Still shy and still looking for light
I stepped to follow my heart on that dance,
embracing the time, embracing the space.

I woke up that morning and now
We still are on dance with the stars
which color the tales like the fairies.

Three steps for a dream to become,
Three steps for the power to be,
I follow my heart on life’s waltz.

I woke up that morning to Me.



The queue

Today we will stay in the queue
while embassy’s staff count on rules,
while nothing just plays to the roof
and brings up the hope to the blue.

Today we will make up the queue.
Just six will be  allowed to breathe
each day, no more space, even seethe.
Just follow the nights till get to.

Today we will spark in the queue.
The timing is beating with luck
while running the race over dark
will embassy’s door welcome through.

Today we may count in the queue
the hours we struggled for rights
while nobody cared for the lights
which faded and got people screw.

Today  we  will seat  over queue
while questions become rude to us,
and love is accused being cuss
because dared and no borders drew.


I wanna go home

“I wanna go home”
is her name, her song, her tale.
while mind is  wandering  through
all her missing  space.
Memories spark on evenings
and eyes of time tears minutes away.


“I  wanna go home”
the angels are healing the wounds
and birds are singing between
the spaces. “Now” and “then” tightly dance
with childhood’s  fire  till become together
the last soldier of the flame.


“I wanna go home”,
the answer she whispers  too walls
while watches  the memories box
looking for her lost story inside.
Abandoned in silence, she steps
Backwards  in  peculiar sand.


“I wanna go home”
are crying minutes of hope
that  danced with faith and fall
behind of nights, behind of doors.
Another sweet dream may come to swing
the sadness.  Or find the way to home.


To Sylvia, who is looking for her way back to home while is aging abandoned in a care home by her loved ones.




The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of 

terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also 

had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent she wanted her 

son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer 

possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son's 

dreams to come true. 

She took her son's hand and asked, "Bopsy, did you ever think about 

what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you ever dream and 

wish about what you would do with your life?" 

"Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." 

Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come 

true." Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, 

Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as 

Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be 

possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire 


Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your 

son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an 

honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire 

station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! 

And, if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform made for 

him, with a real fire hat — not a toy one — with the emblem of the 

Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber 

boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get 

them fast." 

Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Bopsy, dressed him in his fire 

uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and 

ladder truck. Bopsy got to sit up on the back of the truck and help steer 

it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. 

There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Bopsy got to go out 

on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedics' 

van and even the fire chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local 

news program. 

Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was 

lavished upon him, so deeply touched Bopsy that he lived three months 

longer than any doctor thought possible. 

One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head 
nurse, who believed in the Hospice concept that no one should die 
alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she 
remembered the day Bopsy had spent as a fireman, so she called the fire 
chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to 
the hospital to be with Bopsy as he made his transition. The chief 
replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will 
you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see 
the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is 
not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest 
members one more time. And will you open the window to his room? 

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital, 
extended its ladder up to Bopsy's third floor open window and 14 
firemen and two fire-women climbed up the ladder into Bopsy's room. 
With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told 
him how much they loved him. 

With his dying breath, Bopsy looked up at the fire chief and said, 
"Chief, am I really a fireman now?" 
"Bopsy, you are," the chief said. 
With those words, Bopsy smiled and closed his eyes for the last time. 

Jack Canfield and Mark V. Hansen ( Chicken Soup for the Soul)

In response to the weekly photo challenge: Tiny





“All I Remember”


When my father spoke to me, he always began the conversation with 
"Have I told you yet today how much I adore you?" The expression of 
love was reciprocated and, in his later years, as his life began to visibly 
ebb, we grew even closer.... if that were possible. 
At 82 he was ready to die, and I was ready to let him go so that his 
suffering would end. We laughed and cried and held hands and told 
each other of our love and agreed that it was time. I said, "Dad, after 
you've gone I want a sign from you that you're fine." He laughed at the 
absurdity of that; Dad didn't believe in reincarnation. I wasn't positive I 
did either, but I had had many experiences that convinced me I could 
get some signal "from the other side." 
My father and I were so deeply connected I felt his heart attack in my 
chest at the moment he died. Later I mourned that the hospital, in their 
sterile wisdom, had not let me hold his hand as he had slipped away. 
Day after day I prayed to hear from him, but nothing happened. Night 
after night I asked for a dream before I fell asleep. And yet four long 
months passed and I heard and felt nothing but grief at his loss. Mother 
had died five years before of Alzheimer's, and, though I had grown 
daughters of my own, I felt like a lost child. 
Suddenly my mother's face appeared — my mother, as she had been 
before Alzheimer's disease had stripped her of her mind, her humanity 
and 50 pounds. Her magnificent silver hair crowned her sweet face. She 
was so real and so close I felt I could reach out and touch her. She 
looked as she had a dozen years ago, before the wasting away had 
begun. I even smelled the fragrance of Joy, her favorite perfume. She 
seemed to be waiting and did not speak. I wondered how it could 
happen that I was thinking of my father and my mother appeared, and I 
felt a little guilty that I had not asked for her as well. 
I said, "Oh, Mother, I'm so sorry that you had to suffer with that horrible 
She tipped her head slightly to one side, as though to acknowledge what 
I had said about her suffering. Then she smiled — a beautiful smile — and 
said very distinctly, "But all I remember is love." And she disappeared. 
I began to shiver in a room suddenly gone cold, and I knew in my bones 
that the love we give and receive is all that matters and all that is 
remembered. Suffering disappears - love remains. 
Her words are the most important I have ever heard, and that moment is 
forever engraved on my heart. 
I have not yet seen or heard from my father, but I have no doubts that 
someday, when I least expect it, he will appear and say, "Have I told 
you yet today that I love you?" 

Bobbie Probstein ( Chicken Soup for the Soul) 


“Who You Are Makes A Difference”


A teacher in New York decided to honor each of her seniors in high
school by telling them the difference they each made. Using a process
developed by Helice Bridges of Del Mar, California, she called each
student to the front of the class, one at a time. First she told them how
the student made a difference to her and the class. Then she presented
each of them with a blue ribbon imprinted with gold letters which read,
“Who I Am Makes a Difference.”

Afterwards the teacher decided to do a class project to see what kind of
impact recognition would have on a community. She gave each of the
students three more ribbons and instructed them to go out and spread
this acknowledgment ceremony. Then they were to follow up on the
results, see who honored whom and report back to the class in about a

One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in a nearby
company and honored him for helping him with his career planning. He
gave him a blue ribbon and put it on his shirt. Then he gave him two
extra ribbons, and said, “We’re doing a class project on recognition, and
we’d like you to go out, find somebody to honor, give them a blue
ribbon, then give them the extra blue ribbon so they can acknowledge a
third person to keep this acknowledgment ceremony going. Then please
report back to me and tell me what happened.”

Later that day the junior executive went in to see his boss, who had been
noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchy fellow. He sat his boss
down and he told him that he deeply admired him for being a creative
genius. The boss seemed very surprised. The junior executive asked him
if he would accept the gift of the blue ribbon and would he give him
permission to put it on him. His surprised boss said, “Well, sure.”
The junior executive took the blue ribbon and placed it right on his
boss’s jacket above his heart. As he gave him the last extra ribbon, he
said, “Would you do me a favor? Would you take this extra ribbon and
pass it on by honoring somebody else? The young boy who first gave
me the ribbons is doing a project in school and we want to keep this
recognition ceremony going and find out how it affects people.”

That night the boss came home to his 14-year-old son and sat him down.
He said, “The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my
office and one of the junior executives came in and told me he admired
me and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. Imagine. He
thinks I’m a creative genius. Then he put this blue ribbon that says ‘Who
I Am Makes A Difference’ on my jacket above my heart. He gave me an
extra ribbon and asked me to find somebody else to honor. As I was
driving home tonight, I started thinking about whom I would honor with
this ribbon and I thought about you. I want to honor you.

“My days are really hectic and when I come home I don’t pay a lot of
attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting good enough
grades in school and for your bedroom being a mess, but somehow
tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do
make a difference to me. Besides your mother, you are the most
important person in my life. You’re a great kid and I love you!”
The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he couldn’t stop crying. His
whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears,
“I was planning on committing suicide tomorrow, Dad, because I didn’t
think you loved me. Now I don’t need to.”

Helice Bridges  ( Chicken  Soup for the Soul) 



“Shoes in Church”

A touching and inspirational poem by Leanne Freiberg
“I showered and shaved.
I adjusted my tie.
I got there and sat
In a pew just in time.
Bowing my head in prayer
As I closed my eyes.
I saw the shoe of the man next to me
Touching my own and I sighed.
With plenty of room on either side,
I thought, “Why must our soles touch?”
It bothered me. His shoe is touching mine
But it didn’t bother him much.
A prayer began: “Our Father”
I thought, “This man with the shoes has no pride.
They’re dusty, worn, and scratched.
Even worse, there are holes on the side!”
“Thank You for blessings,” the prayer went on.
The shoe man said a quiet “Amen.”
I tried to focus on the prayer
But my thoughts were on his shoes again.
Aren’t we supposed to look our best
When walking through that door?
“Well, this certainly isn’t it,”
I thought while glancing toward the floor.
Then the prayer was ended.
The songs of praise began.
The shoe man was certainly loud
Sounding proud as he sang.
His voice lifted the rafters.
His hands were raised high.
The Lord could surely hear
The shoe man’s voice from the sky.
It was time for the offering.
What I threw in was steep.
I watched as the shoe man reached
Into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out
What the shoe man put in.
Then I heard a soft “clink”
As when silver hits tin.
The sermon really bored me
To tears and that’s no lie.
It was the same for the shoe man.
For tears fell from his eyes.
At the end of the service
As is the custom here
We must greet new visitors
And show them all good cheer.
But I felt moved somehow
And wanted to meet the shoe man.
So after the closing prayer
I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark.
His hair was truly a mess.
But I thanked him for coming
And being our guest.
He said, “My name is Charlie.
I’m glad to meet you, my friend.”
There were tears in his eyes
But he had a large, wide grin.
“Let me explain,” he said,
Wiping tears from his eyes,
“I’ve been coming here for months
And you’re the first to say ‘Hi.'”
“I know that my appearance
Is not like all the rest.
But I really do try
To always look my best.”
“I always clean and polish my shoes
Before my very long walk.
But by the time I get here
They’re dirty and dusty, like chalk.”
My heart filled with pain
And I swallowed to hide my tears
As he continued to apologize
For daring to sit so near.
He said, “When I get here
I know I must look a sight,
But I thought if I could touch you
Then maybe our souls might unite.”
I was silent for a moment
Knowing whatever was said
Would pale in comparison.
I spoke from my heart, not my head.
“Oh, you’ve touched me,” I said,
“And taught me, in part
That the best of any man
Is what is found in his heart.”

The rest, I thought,
This shoe man will never know.
Like just how thankful I really am
That his dirty old shoe touched my soul. 

Source: Google Images

Behind of Thoughts


With Moon behind of thoughts,

With Sun in front of Hope, 

With Smiles embracing lots

Of wishes  made in  rope, 

While  dare the  life and cope. 

Pakistan Monument, Islamabad, Pakistan


Robin Hood and Maid Marian statue, Edwinstowe, United Kingdom

Rome, Italy


Nottingham Castle, Nottingham, United Kingdom

With shoulders made for kind

When rain is falling hard

Or crying is behind

Nor nothing is the guard,

The souls together  mind. 


Weekly photo challenge “Partners

Six Life Lessons I’ve Learned while Visiting the Elderly – By Michael Baker

Touching article…
The elderly people should enjoy their life in THEIR HOMES not in nursing homes… It is the saddest thing to see how these people are actually abused firstly by their families when they are taken away from their environment. It should be the common senses  which dictate in a family environment. Elderly people are not giving to the families a bad time, their are having a bad time. FAMILY should be their support. As they were ago when raised the children. Except those  who have only the community as support.
Thank you, Michael, for your article!


Kindness Blog

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would one day be volunteering at a nursing home, I wouldn’t have believed them.

In fact, my 26-year-old self would have responded with,

“Pffft, yeah right. Sitting around with a bunch of old people all day? I’d rather watch paint dry.”

Thankfully my mind has opened up since then. Once a week for about three hours, I do sit around with a bunch of old people, and you know what? I love it! I have made some unforgettable friends at the nursing home, enjoyed a ton of laughter, and gained more wisdom than I ever could have imagined.

I want to honor my elderly friends by sharing six life lessons I’ve learned while in their company.

1 – Love is the Best Gift of all

I was walking down the hallway one afternoon when I heard a familiar voice calling…

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