Should you find it hard to get to sleep tonight; just remember the homeless family who has no bed to lie in.

Should you find yourself stuck in traffic; don’t despair. There are people in this world for whom driving is an unheard of privilege.

Should you have a bad day at work; think of the person who has been out of work for the last three months.

Should your car break down, leaving you miles away from assistance, think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that walk.

Should you notice a new grey hair in the mirror; think of the cancer patients in Chemo who wishes they had hair to turn grey.

Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering; what is life all about, what is my purpose? Be Grateful ! There are those who didn’t live long enough, to get the opportunity to ponder.

My wife and I recently went on vacation, and as is our habit we brought along a camera and several rolls of film. Upon our return my wife began proudly showing off our latest set of vacation photos, and then each day she’d relate her coworkers’ reactions to me. After a few days of this I noticed a recurring theme in her friends’ reactions. Invariably, people would say, “Wow, your husband must have a really nice camera!”

Even though people liked my photos, I was disappointed. I wanted them to acknowledge what a good photographer I am, not what a good camera I have.

After a week of this I ranted to my wife: “Why do people do this? Nobody looks at a painting and says, ‘Nice brushes!’ Nobody looks at a skyscraper and says, ‘Nice drafting table!’ Nobody looks at a sculpture and says, ‘Nice chisel!’ What’s wrong with these people?”

It felt good to get that off my chest. Until my wife reminded me, “So, how often do you look at creation and say, ‘Nice work, God’?”

Retired U.S. Marine Corps General Charles Krulak tells of the time when he as a nonbeliever was first confronted with the testimony of a person committed to Christ:

Thirty-five years ago I was a young second lieutenant just graduated from the Naval Academy, married 14 days after I graduated. My wife and I went down to Quantico, Virginia, home of the basic school where officers learn about honor, courage, and commitment. At that time in my life I thought I was a cross between John Wayne and Tom Cruise. Because I was married, I shared a room with another married officer named John Listerman. John was a wonderful human. He exuded goodness. If I asked him for his arm, he would have said, “Where do you want me to cut it off? At the wrist? The elbow?” John was a Christian. That meant nothing to me other than Gee, what a nice guy. I guess this Christian stuff must be pretty good.

Upon graduating from basic school, John and I went to Camp Pendleton, California, where we joined the same battalion preparing to go to Vietnam. And I saw another side of John Listerman: he was a tremendous leader—aggressive and technically proficient. People loved him. He was committed to his troops; his troops were committed to him. He was a Marine’s Marine.

On a December morning in 1965 John and I went to war.  John Listerman’s war lasted one day.

We were on patrol moving down a trail through the jungle. We came around a corner in that trail, and we ran into an ambush. John took the first round, a 50-caliber round right in his kneecap. As his kneecap burst, the crack was so loud it sounded like a mortar exploding. It threw him up in the air. As he was dropping, the second round hit him right below the heart and exited out his side. I was wounded also but nowhere near as badly. I saw John about 30 meters away on his back, his leg blown off.

I crawled up to him, and I wanted to say, “Are you okay? Can I do anything?” but before I could do that, his head turned to me and he said, “How are you doing, Chucker? Are you okay?”

I said, “Yes, John. I’m okay.” He said, “Are my men safe?” I said, “John, your people are okay.” At that point he turned his head and looked to the sky and repeated over and over, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord. Thank you for caring for my people. Thank you for caring for me.”

I was dumbfounded.

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General Charles Krulak, from a message given at the Wheaton, Illinois, Leadership Prayer Breakfast (October 2000)