Conquering the world

There once lived a powerful king who undertook an expedition to conquer foreign lands. His wise counselor asked him, "Great king, to what purpose do you set out on this endeavor?" "To become master of Asia", the king replied. "And then what?" asked the counselor. "I shall invade Arabia", said the king. "And after that?" "I shall conquer Europe and Africa; and finally, when the whole world is under me, I shall rest and live at ease."

 To this the wise counselor retorted, "But what keeps you from resting and living at ease here and now, if that is all you want? You could settle down this very day without the trouble and risks."
   

Accidental Angel

When I was in school, I participated in an undergraduate internship with a hospital chaplain. This largely consisted of me visiting with specific hospital patients and then discussing the interaction with the chaplain. I had no specific training in this, and introducing myself to strangers was not one of my natural talents.

        On one particular visit, I cautiously entered a darkened room to find an elderly man lying in the bed. There was no one else in the room, and I initially thought he was sleeping. When I moved closer to the bed, I realized that he was very much awake, but also very confused and anxious. He desperately wanted to communicate something, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He seemed weak and frail, and I couldn’t tell if he was in pain, or just scared. I knew nothing about this man’s life or history, and I felt totally helpless. He obviously didn’t want me to leave, but I felt so lost and uncomfortable that I had to leave the room after only a couple of minutes.

        The next time I was at the hospital, I was assigned to make follow up visits with the same list of patients. I expected my time with the confused man to be just as short as the last time...if he was even still alive. It seemed pointless to frustrate myself trying to interact with someone so disoriented.

        As I arrived at the room, the first thing I noticed was that the lights were on. His daughter was there visiting with him. He was sitting up in the bed and much more alert. I introduced myself to the daughter and explained that I had come by before. Addressing the patient, I then suggested that I was certain he didn’t remember me at all.

        He corrected me immediately, saying “I remember you. You were the angel that gave me hope in my darkest hour!” I would have thought his memory was delirious, but he then accurately recounted enough details of our first meeting to remove any doubt of his clarity. I was so amazed that, once again, I didn’t know how to respond. We talked a little more, I told him I was glad he was feeling so much better, and we said goodbye.

        In the brief moment of my initial interaction with this inconsolable patient, I had no idea what to say or what to do. I knew of nothing I could offer him. I did absolutely nothing to help this man... except show up. I may never be able to explain it, but somehow he found in me something he needed at a critical point in his life, just because I was there.

        I have thought about this encounter often over the past 25 years. It has shaped the way I see life, the way I see myself, and the way I see others. It has influenced not only my career path, but also the decisions I make on a daily basis. It makes me want to offer whatever kindness I can to others, and I try to recognize and appreciate the kindness that others share with me. Obviously, we can’t know the impact our actions, or even just our presence, will have on life.

        I don’t know who he was. I don’t know his name, where he came from, or what happened to him after that. It took years of hindsight for me to recognize the gift he had given me, so I didn’t even know to thank him at the time.

        So a stranger in the form of a frail old man changed the rest of my life with a single comment. Who was the angel to whom?

        - Scott Shaunfield
    

A Special Teacher

Years ago a John Hopkins University professor gave a group of graduate students this assignment:
        Go to the slums. Take 200 boys, between the ages of 12 and 16, and investigate their background and
        environment. Then predict their chances for the future. The students, after consulting social statistics, talking
        to the boys, and compiling much data and information, concluded that 90 percent of the boys would spend
        some time in jail.
        Twenty-five years later, another group of graduate students was given the job of testing that prediction. They
        went back to the same area. Some of the boys - by then men - were still there, a few had died, some had
        moved away, but they got in touch with 180 of the original 200. They found that only four of the group had

        ever been sent to jail.
        Why was it that these men, who had lived in a breeding place of crime, had such a surprisingly good record?
        The researchers were continually told by the boys who were now men: "Well, there was a teacher..." They
        pressed further, and found that in 75 percent of the cases it was the same female teacher.
        The researchers went to this teacher, now living in a retirement home. How had she managed this
        remarkable influence over that group of boys? Could she give any reason why these boys should have
        remembered her?
        "No," she said, "no, I really can't think of any reason that they would remember me." And then, thinking back
        over the years, she reflected, more to herself than her questioners: "I loved those boys..."
    

How much do you make an Hour ?

With a timid voice and idolizing eyes, the little boy greeted his father as he returned from work, "Daddy, how
        much do you make an hour?" Greatly surprised, but giving his boy a glaring look, the father said: "Look, son,
        not even your mother knows that. Don't bother me now, I'm tired." "But Daddy, just tell me please!? How
        much do you make an hour?" the boy insisted.
        The father, finally giving up, replied: "Twenty dollars per hour." "Okay, Daddy. Could you loan me ten
        dollars?" the boy asked. Showing restlessness and positively disturbed, the father yelled: "So that was the
        reason you asked how much I earn, right?? Go to sleep and don't bother me anymore!"
        It was already dark and the father was thinking about what he had said, and was feeling guilty. Maybe he

        thought, his son wanted to buy something. Finally, trying to ease his mind, the father went back to his son's
        room.
        "Are you asleep son?" asled the father. "No, Daddy. Why?" replied the boy partially asleep. "Here's the
        money you asked for earlier," the father said. "Thanks, Daddy!" rejoiced the son, while putting his hand
        under his pillow and removing some money. "Now I have enough! Now I have twenty dollars!" the boy said
        to his father, who was gazing at his son, confused at what his son just said. "Daddy could you sell me one
        hour of your time?"
 

 - Sent from Inspirational Short Stories (android app),https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.inspirational.stories.personality.development