thank you again

        Almost ten years ago, I had a birthday party.  Some friends brought cards.  A few brought presents.  Laura brought a piece of her heart -- a painting of a scene in the little village she dreams about calling home.  She gave it to me, and she didn’t have another one.  Every time I look at it, I say thank you again, and sometimes I pick up my pen or the phone so Laura can hear it, too.  But she’ll never really know what she gave me.  She’ll never know how much gratitude has grown from her gift.  Neither, I guess, will I.  

        Who is your Laura?  Maybe today you'll take a few minutes to say thank you again.