A few years ago at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the 100-yard dash. At the gun they all started out, not exactly in a dash, but with the relish to run the race to the finish and win.

All, that is, except one boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times, and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and paused. Then they all turned around and went back. Every one of them. One girl with Down's syndrome bent down and kissed him and said, "This will make it better." Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line.

Everyone in the stadium stood, and cheering went on for 10 minutes.

By Author Unknown. Submitted by Bob French from a 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

I used to have a job as a telephone operator. All you had to do was dial 411 and you got me. 411provides telephone numbers; however, many people think, "Gee! Information, they know everything about everything." I would get calls for, "Ya know dat girl? She lives in a brown house on dat one roa? She my frien in ma class. She gort brown hair." I would also get calls like, "Can you tell me how to make egg salad?"

Well, one day I got a call and it was around Christmastime. I said, "Directory assistance, may I help you?" There was a man on the phone and in a very lonely voice he said, "Ma'am, I need . . . my cat needs some food." He sounded so helpless but I had to disconnect him. It was against the rules to give out anything other than phone numbers, so I disconnected him. He called back and by some miracle I got him again. And again, in his frail voice, he said, "Ma'am, please don't hang up on me. My poor cat . . . she's so hungry. All I want for Christmas is for her to have some food. Please, miss . . . please help me." What could I do? The poor man sounded so sincere. I had to do something! I quickly asked him for his address and took it down on a piece of paper. I told him I would see what I could do. I just knew I had to do something for this poor old man and his cat. I went to my supervisor and asked if I could take the rest of the evening off. It was getting dark out and it was starting to snow.

I left the building and went to the store. I bought a big bag of cat food, tied a big red ribbon on it and attached a card from Santa. I got the old man's address out of my pocket and went in search of his house. It was in a bad section of the city and when I got there it was dark and snowing. I walked up to the porch and crept up the musty, creaky stairs. I set down the bag of cat food, rang the door bell and ran to my car and hid. I watched from my car as a wrinkly old man opened the door. The smile on his face when he saw the food and read the card was the best Christmas present I ever received!

By Molly Melville from A Cup Of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Copyright 1996 bye Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk

When I was growing up I do not recall hearing the words " I Love You" from my father. When your father never says them to you when you are a child, it gets tougher and tougher for him to say those words as he gets older. To tell the truth, I could not honestly remember when I had last said those words to him either. I decided to set my ego aside and make the first move. After some hesitation, in our next phone conversation I blurted out the words, "Dad . . . I Love You!"

There was a silence at the other end and he awkwardly replied, "Well, same back at ya!"

I chucked and said, "Dad, I know you love me, and when you are ready, I know you will say what you want to say."

Fifteen minutes later my mother called and nervously asked, "Paul, is everything okay?"

A few weeks later, Dad concluded our phone conversation with the words, "Paul, I Love You." I was at work during this converstaion and the tears were rolling down my cheeks as I finally "heard" the love. As we both sat there in tears we realized that this special moment had taken our father/son relationship to a new level.

A short while after this special moment, my father narrowly escaped death following heart surgery. Many times since, I have pondered the thought. If I did not take the first step and Dad did not survive the surgery, I would have never "heard" the love.

By Paul Barton from A Cup Of Chicken Soup for the Soul. Copyright 1996 bye Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk