In the LAP (Love-Appreciation-Power) of
Ahura Mazda.

I believe that the difference between life and death..... is breath.

Somehow, we do not appreciate the value of this breath until we get choked or it is gone.

We tend to live life on a life support system.... We are living, breathing, but we are not fully alive.

We look for near death experiences instead of dear breath experiences, as opportunities to learn.

We get-up with a disorganized life style, to set-up an organized living style.

We start our day with a mellow-drama and end our day in a melodrama.

We spend all our time living everyone else's life, not realizing that in life there are no victims, only volunteers.

We believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Holy book says.

And, we allow the NOTS to become the KNOTS of our life.

The following story puts life and its value in proper perspective.

Celebrate life and as you do, I encourage you reflect on the following:

• Life may not be fair but you can be.
• Live each day in a way that it allows you to sleep each night.
• In life, love never dies. It lives in the people you love.
  
  

Every Sunday morning, at exactly 9 A.M., the twenty members of a church choir would assemble in the chapel of their small Southern Baptist congregation for a one-hour rehearsal before services. The choir consisted of long-time members who were dedicated, enthusiastic, and extremely punctual.

One Sunday morning, the tranquil air of the sleepy Southern town was suddenly pierced by a loud blast. Residents rushed outdoors to see what was happening, and then watched in anguish as flames spurted out the windows of the small church. They checked the time, glancing at their watches, the clocks on their kitchen walls, the alarms on the night tables in their bedrooms.

It was ten minutes past nine.

Gasps, wails, and shrieks filled the air as the townspeople raced towards the church. The volunteer firemen who had preceded them by a few minutes shook their heads mournfully as they arrived. In just seconds, the church had been totally consumed by flames. "It probably was a gas explosion," one of the firemen said. "It happened too fast. None of the choir members could have gotten out on time. I'm sorry. It doesn'tlook like there are any survivors at all."

Everyone reacted differently. Some people bowed their heads and turned away in silence, griefstricken. A few women crumpled onto the charred grass. Others collapsed into one another's arms and emitted heart trending sobs. Paralyzed by shock, people didn't seem to notice the sudden convergence of twenty automobiles pulling into the church's parking lot at the same time. No one seemed to observe the twentyred-frocked figures running through the church.

"Hey, what happened?" they heard a familiar sounding alto voice inquire, shattering the silence that had fallen over the mourners.

"Yeah, what's going on?" chimed in another well-known voice, a mellifluous soprano.

"My God, the church is in ruins!" shouted an unforgettable baritone.

In wonder, astonishment, and dozed disbelief, the townspeople gazed at the miraculous sight of all twenty choir members -- vital and alive -- streaming in their direction.

For the first time in twelve years of ongoing choir practice, every single one of them -- for separate, different and unconnected reasons -- had come late.