"Have You Planned Well For The Cycles Of Your Life? Or Will You Be Overwhelmed?"

Making Sandcastles
By: Unknown Author

Hot sun. Salty air. Rhythmic waves.

A little boy is on his knees scooping and packing the sand
with plastic shovels into a bright blue bucket. Then he
upends the bucket on the surface and lifts it. And, to the
delight of the little architect, a castle tower is created.
All afternoon he will work. Spooning out the moat. Packing
the walls. Bottle tops will be sentries. Popsicle sticks
will be bridges. A sandcastle will be built.

Big city. Busy streets. Rumbling traffic.

A man is in his office. At his desk he shuffles papers
into stacks and delegates assignments. He cradles the phone
on his shoulder and punches the keyboard with his fingers.
Numbers are juggled and contracts are signed. And much to
the delight of the man, a profit is made. All his life he
will work. Formulating the plans. Forecasting the future.
Annuities will be sentries. Capital gains will be bridges.
An empire will be built.

Two builders of two castles. They have much in common.
They shape granules into grandeurs. They see nothing and
make something. They are diligent and determined. And for
both the tide will rise and the end will come. Yet that is
where the similarities cease. For the boy sees the end
while the man ignores it.

Watch the boy as the dusk approaches. As the waves near,
the wise child jumps to his feet and begins to clap. There
is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would
happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker
crashes into his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into
the sea, he smiles. He smiles, picks up his tools, takes
his father's hand, and goes home.

The grownup, however, is not so wise. As the wave of years
collapses on his castle, he is terrified. He hovers over
the sandy monument to protect it. He blocks the waves from
the walls he has made. Salt-water soaked and shivering, he
snarls at the incoming tide. "It's my castle," he defies.

The ocean need not respond. Both know to whom the sand
belongs...

"Are You say The Right thing -To The Wrong people?"

By: Author Unknown

An old hill farmer trudges several miles through freezing
snow to his local and very remote chapel for Sunday
service. No-one else is there, aside from the clergyman.

"I'm not sure it's worth proceeding with the service.
Might we do better to go back to our warm homes and a hot
drink?" asks the clergyman, inviting a mutually helpful
reaction from his one audience member.

"Well, I'm just a simple farmer," says the old crofter,
"But when I go to feed my herd, and if only one beast turns
up, I definitely don't leave it hungry." So the clergyman,
feeling somewhat ashamed, delivers his service-all the
sermon, hymns and readings-lasting a good couple of hours.
He finished proudly with the fresh observation that no
matter how small the need, our duty remains. And he thanks
the old farmer for the lesson he has learned.

"Was that okay?" asks the clergyman, as they head to their
homes.

"Well, I'm just a simple farmer," says the old crofter,
"But when I go to feed my herd, and if only one beast turns
up, I sure don't force it to eat what I brought for the
whole herd..."

Know your customers and keep learning about what THEY need.




The Clergyman and the Farmer When you are looking to get people to
Your opinion you are selling and if you
don’t understand the style of the prospect [s]
you will use the wrong language, oversell,
undersell or many other things that will not
make you friends with them.
Learn how to speak the language of your Flock.