Even before Michael finished dialing, he somehow knew he’d dialed the wrong number. The phone rang once, twice – then someone picked it up.

“You got the wrong number!” a husky male voice snapped before the line went dead. Mystified, Michael dialed again.

“I said you got the wrong number!” came the voice again. Once more the phone clicked in his ear.

How could he possibly know I had a wrong number? At that time, Michael was a police officer who is trained to be curious and concerned. So he dialed a third time.

“Hey, c’mon,” the man said. “Is this you again?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Michael answered. “I was wondering how you knew I had the wrong number before I even said anything.”

“You figure it out!”

Michael thought for a moment and he said, “It’s because … nobody ever calls you?”

“You got it!” The phone went dead for the third time. Chuckling, Michael dialed the man back.

“What do you want now?” the man asked.

“I thought I’d call … just to say hello.”

“Hello? Why?”

“Well, if nobody ever calls you, I thought may be I should.”

“Okay. Hello. Who is this?”

At last Michael had gotten through and they started the conversation.

The man’s name was Adolf Meth and he was 88 years old. He said, “I haven’t had this many wrong numbers in one day in 20 years!” They both laughed.

They talked for 10 minutes. Adolf had no family and friends. Everyone he had been close to had died. Then they discovered they had something in common: Adolf had worked for the Police Department for nearly 40 years. Telling Michael about his days there as an elevator operator, he seemed interesting, even friendly. Michael asked if he could call him again.

“Why would you want to do that?” Adolf asked, surprised.

“Well, maybe we could be phone friends. You know, like pen pals.”

Adolf hesitated. “I wouldn’t mind … having a friend again.” His voice sounded a little tentative.

Since that day, they talked almost every day. Adolf related his memories of World War II and other historic events. Talking with Adolf was important to Michael, because he was raised in orphanages and foster homes and never had a father. Gradually, Adolf took on a kind of fatherly importance to him. Michael talked about his job and college courses, which he attended at night.

Adolf warmed to the role of counselor for Michael. “You know,” he said softly one time, “I’m talking to you just the way I’d talk to a boy of my own. I always wanted a family – and children. But you’re too young to know how that feels.” Michael knew; he also always wanted a family – and a father. But he didn’t say anything.

One evening Adolf mentioned his 89th birthday was coming up. After buying a piece of fiberboard, Michael designed a greeting card with a cake and 89 candles on it. He asked all the cops in his office to sign it.
 
They’d been talking on the phone for four months now, and Michael thought this would be a good time to meet face to face. So he decided to deliver the card by hand. He didn’t tell Adolf he was coming; he just drove to his address one morning.

A postman was sorting mail in the hallway when Michael entered the building. He nodded as Michael checked the mailboxes for Adolf’s name.

Michael’s heart pounded with excitement. Would we be the same as we were on the phone? He tapped on Adolf’s door but there was no answer.

The postman looked up from his sorting. “You a relative or something?” he asked.

“No. Just a friend.”

“I’m really sorry,” the postman said quietly, “but Mr. Meth died day before yesterday.”

Died? Adolf? For a moment, Michael stood there in shock and disbelief. Then, pulling himself together, he thanked the postman and stepped into the late-morning sun. He walked toward the car, misty-eyed.

It often takes some sudden and sad turn of events to awaken us to the beauty of a special presence in our lives. Now, for the first time, Michael sensed how close Adolf and him had become even they never met each other. Slowly, he felt the warmth surging through him. He heard Adolf’s growly voice shouting, “Wrong number! Why would you want to call again?”

“Because you mattered, Adolf,” Michael said aloud. “Because I was your friend. I didn’t get the wrong number. I got you!”

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word

I have a special feeling to Cat Stevens’s song “Morning Has Broken”. Although I’m not a Christian, I feel peace, relax and comfort when hearing this song. This is the first song I learned from the high school music class. I still remember our music teacher Miss Tang playing the piano and leading the whole class of boys to sing this song. I guess some of us were day-dreaming of having a girlfriend like Miss Tang one day.

Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

I normally run in the morning around the neighborhood. I like the fresh air, the early sunlight, the singing of birds, the quiet environment and the aroma of breakfast from people’s homes. On the road, I may come across other runners, people having their morning walk or walking their dogs. I usually give them a polite nod and smile, and they may return a smile back. A small interaction between strangers cross path in life.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day

In this 24/7 city, the border between night and day becomes unclear. However, no matter how you spent the night before – sleeping peacefully, suffering insomnia, working night shift, getting drunk in the pub; you always look forward to the following morning as it brings along a brand new start. Not everyone can move forward in the journey, life may not be what you expect. But we at least should be proud that we have the courage to set off again each morning. A life is simply a lot of days put together. Live one day at a time and make every day count.

Victoria Azarenka won the 2012 Australian Open; she is now ready to become the top women’s tennis player in the world. Victoria was very calm in the match so she could express all her technical skills to win her first Grand Slam title.

But early on, she had a reputation for crumbling at the end of matches, blowing huge leads and wilting under the pressure. She was accused of her shrieking, temper, and attitude on court.

And she changes, not only her techniques but also her attitude. She showcased her maturity and her ability to handle the pressure in Australian Open and summed up the change in attitude beautifully.

“I think a lot more people will have more motivation to beat me. I think it’s really exciting to go on the court and you have somebody on the other side who really wants to beat you. I enjoy that challenge so much.”

We are responsible for how our life turns out, and our attitude shapes that life for better or worse. Develop a winning attitude and it is our attitudes toward others that determine their attitudes toward us.

Our attitude tells the world what we expect in return. Make yours expectant and cheerful. The world will reflect back to you the attitude you present to them. It is then, our attitude toward life that determines life’s attitude toward us. We get back what we put out. Life is an echo chamber of cause and effect. What we sow we’ll reap; what we give we’ll get.

Luck is what happens when preparedness meets opportunity. A great attitude is the best preparation. Expect good out of life than bad. Expect to succeed than to fail, and you will. There are more reasons why you can achieve your goals than fail in the attempt. Work at it. Be positive, cheerful, grateful and expectant. Change things for better by changing your attitude. Attitude determines altitude. Life is impersonal. Your attitude affects you more than others. Don’t wait for change. You change.