Through the cold winter wasteland he trudged, leaning into the harsh wind which spitefully tried to force him back. He was covered from head to toe in layers of thick clothing, layers of protection against the harsh environment. On he fought, searching, searching. He was working so hard. This must be the way.
In the distance he saw what looked like steam rising out of the ground. It rose a few feet and then was quickly whipped away by the biting wind. He altered his course and turned towards the steam, gaining some blessed relief as he turned his chapped face out of the gale. As he got closer, he thought he could make out voices. Their tone was unfamiliar to him - musical, relaxed and warm - their melody enticed him closer. Finally he got close enough to peer through the mist.
There before him was a remarkable sight. In the midst of the frozen wasteland, cut into the ground was a large pool. Several people were in the pool, they seemed to be floating easily without any effort. As they saw him approach, a woman called out to him.
"Come in here. It is lovely and warm. You can just lie back and relax," said the woman.
"I can't. There are no steps." The man replied.
"Just jump in. It really is lovely in here. Come on. There's plenty of room for another." Another of the floaters joined in the persuasion.
"But what if I don't like it, how will I get out? The sides are too high to reach up to."
"Believe me, you won't want to get out. Come on. It is so good in here."
He stood for a moment, paralyzed with indecision. It looked so much like the answer, but how could it be this easy? Just jump in? Lie back and relax? It couldn't be that simple. It must be a trick. He could not trust them. There was no way out if he changed his mind. He blocked out their warm invitations and once more filled his mind with grim determination.
On he trudged. Hours passed and his shadow grew long. Then once again in the distance he saw another cloud of rising steam. Entering the mist, a similar sight greeted him once more.
"Come in here. You don't have to be cold any more," said one of the bathers in a gentle voice. All the faces in the pool turned to look at him. Warm smiles reached out to him but his eyes could not perceive them.
"How do I get in? I can't see any steps. You are a long way down." He asked once again.
"Just jump in. It is very deep. You will be quite safe."
"But what if I want to get out? What if I get tired and cannot stay afloat any longer?"
"This is not like normal water, we are kept afloat without any effort. I promise you, you really will not want to get out."
"But my clothes will get wet and their weight will drag me down."
"You can remove all those layers. You will not need their protection in here. It is always beautifully warm."
But he could not bring himself to do that. Those layers were his protection, accumulated over the years to keep out the bitter cold. How could he now discard them, just like that? How could he allow himself to be so exposed?
On he trudged. Darkness came and the temperature dropped still further. Snow began to fall and the wind drove it into his face. Walking blind he carried on.
Then suddenly he felt some warmth in the air and the ground disappeared beneath him. With a scream he fell and his fall was broken with a splash. Panic overcame him and he thrashed around desperately until his hands touched a wall and he clawed at the smooth surface, loudly cursing the futility of it.
Then suddenly he heard a soft voice beside him. '"Shhhh. It's OK. It's OK," said the voice in beautiful feminine tones. "Just relax. You will be OK." Then he felt her hands moving over his body, searching then loosening his winter clothing. Layer after layer was gently removed, her voice continuing to sooth his panic until eventually he could feel the wonderful warmth of the water directly against his skin. "It's OK," she said once more as she held him close in the dark. For the first time since he could remember, he fully relaxed and quickly drifted off into a much needed sleep in her arms.
He awoke to a wonderful new dawn. He gazed into the beautiful eyes of his rescuer and felt the wonderful warmth of the water around him. Then he heard footsteps above. A weary man dressed head to foot in winter furs peered over the edge of the pool.
"Come in here!" He quickly shouted to the man. "It is so wonderful in here!"
"But what if I don't like it? How will I get back out?" The man asked.
"Believe me. You really won't want to get out," he assured the man.
- Peter Hughes
Wooden Bowls
A frail old man lived with his son, his daughter-in-law, and his four-year-old grandson. His eyes were blurry, his hands trembled, and his step faltered.
The family would eat together nightly at the dinner table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon, drooping to the floor. When he grasped his glass of milk, it often spilled clumsily at the tablecloth.
With this happening almost every night, the son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.
"We must do something about grandfather," said the son.
"I've had enough of his milk spilling, noisy eating and food on the floor," the daughter-in-law agreed.
So the couple set a small table at the corner.
There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed their dinner at the dinner table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in wooden bowls. Sometimes when the family glanced in grandfather's direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.
One evening, before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly: "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy replied, "Oh, I'm making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.
These words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears streamed down their cheeks. Though no words were spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening, the husband took grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.
For the remainder of his days, grandfather ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk was spilled or the table cloth was soiled.
Two Horses
Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse.
But if you get a closer look you will notice something quite interesting...
One of the horses is blind.
His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made him a safe and comfortable barn to live in.
This alone is pretty amazing.
But if you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. It is coming from a smaller horse in the field.
Attached to the horse's halter is a small, copper-colored bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.
As you stand and watch these two friends you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is, trusting he will not be led astray.
When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, he will stop occasionally to look back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.
Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect. Or because we have problems or challenges.
He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.
Sometimes we are the blind horse, being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives.
And at other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way.
The Dew Drop
As the sun rose, a dew drop became aware of its surroundings. There it sat on a leaf, catching the sunlight and throwing it back out. Proud of its simple beauty, it was very content. Around it were other dew drops, some on the same leaf and some on other leaves round about. The dew drop was sure that it was the best, the most special dew drop of them all.
Ah, it was good to be a dew drop.
The wind rose and the plant began to shake, tipping the leaf. Terror gripped the dew drop as gravity pulled it towards the edge of the leaf, towards the unknown. Why? Why was this happening? Things were comfortable. Things were safe. Why did they have to change? Why? Why?
The dew drop reached the edge of the leaf. It was terrified, certain that it would be smashed into a thousand pieces below, sure that this was the end. The day had only just begun and the end had come so quickly. It seemed so unfair. It seemed so meaningless. It tried desperately to do whatever it could to cling to the leaf, but it was no use.
Finally, it let go, surrendering to the pull of gravity. Down, down it fell. Below there seemed to be a mirror. A reflection of itself seemed to be coming up to meet the dew drop. Closer and closer they came together until finally...
And then the fear transformed into deep joy as the tiny dew drop merged with the vastness that was the pond. Now the dew drop was no more, but it was not destroyed.
It had become one with the whole.
- Peter Hughes
The Triple-Filter Test
In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard about your friend?"
"Hold on a minute," Socrates replied. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be good idea to take a moment and filter what you’re going to say. That’s why I call it the triple filter test. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"
"Well, no," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and…"
"All right," said Socrates. "So you don’t really know if it’s true or not. Now, let’s try the second filter, the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?"
"Umm, no, on the contrary…"
"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about my friend, but you’re not certain it’s true. You may still pass the test though, because there’s one filter left—the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?"
"No, not really."
"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true, nor good, nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?"
Things Change
For most people, graduation is an exciting day - the culmination of years of hard work. My graduation day... was not.
I remember that weekend two years ago. Family and friends had flown in from across the country to watch our class walk across that stage. But like everyone else in my graduating class, I had watched the economy turn from bad to worse my senior year. We graduates had degrees, but very limited prospects. Numerous applications had not panned out and I knew that the next day, when my lease ended, I would no longer have a place to call home.
The weeks ahead weren't easy. I gathered up everything I couldn't carry and put it into storage. Then, because I knew my small university town couldn't offer me any opportunities, I packed up my car and drove to Southern California to find work. But what I thought would take a week dragged into two, and then four, and 100 job applications later, I found myself in the exact same spot as I was before. And the due date to begin paying back my student loans was creeping ever closer.
You know that feeling when you wake up and you are just consumed with dread? Dread about something you can't control - that sense of impending failure that lingers over you as you hope that everything that happened to you thus far was just a bad dream? That feeling became a constant in my life.
Days felt like weeks, weeks like months, and those many months felt like an unending eternity of destitution. And the most frustrating part was no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't seem to make any progress.
So what did I do to maintain my sanity? I wrote. Something about putting words on a page made everything seem a little clearer - a little brighter. Something about writing gave me hope. And if you want something badly enough... sometimes a little hope is all you need!
I channeled my frustration into a children's book. Beyond the River was the story of an unlikely hero featuring a little fish who simply refused to give up on his dream.
And then one day, without any sort of writing degree or contacts in the writing world - just a lot of hard work and perseverance - I was offered a publishing contract for my first book! After that, things slowly began to fall into place. I was offered a second book deal. Then, a few months later, I got an interview with The Walt Disney Company and was hired shortly after.
The moral of this story is... don't give up. Even if things look bleak now, don't give up. Two years ago I was huddled in my car drinking cold soup right out of the can. Things change.
If you work hard, give it time, and don't give up, things will always get better. Oftentimes our dreams lie in wait just a little further upstream... all we need is the courage to push beyond the river.
- Alex W. Miller
- Sent from Inspirational Short Stories (android app), https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.inspirational.stories.personality.development
I remember that weekend two years ago. Family and friends had flown in from across the country to watch our class walk across that stage. But like everyone else in my graduating class, I had watched the economy turn from bad to worse my senior year. We graduates had degrees, but very limited prospects. Numerous applications had not panned out and I knew that the next day, when my lease ended, I would no longer have a place to call home.
The weeks ahead weren't easy. I gathered up everything I couldn't carry and put it into storage. Then, because I knew my small university town couldn't offer me any opportunities, I packed up my car and drove to Southern California to find work. But what I thought would take a week dragged into two, and then four, and 100 job applications later, I found myself in the exact same spot as I was before. And the due date to begin paying back my student loans was creeping ever closer.
You know that feeling when you wake up and you are just consumed with dread? Dread about something you can't control - that sense of impending failure that lingers over you as you hope that everything that happened to you thus far was just a bad dream? That feeling became a constant in my life.
Days felt like weeks, weeks like months, and those many months felt like an unending eternity of destitution. And the most frustrating part was no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't seem to make any progress.
So what did I do to maintain my sanity? I wrote. Something about putting words on a page made everything seem a little clearer - a little brighter. Something about writing gave me hope. And if you want something badly enough... sometimes a little hope is all you need!
I channeled my frustration into a children's book. Beyond the River was the story of an unlikely hero featuring a little fish who simply refused to give up on his dream.
And then one day, without any sort of writing degree or contacts in the writing world - just a lot of hard work and perseverance - I was offered a publishing contract for my first book! After that, things slowly began to fall into place. I was offered a second book deal. Then, a few months later, I got an interview with The Walt Disney Company and was hired shortly after.
The moral of this story is... don't give up. Even if things look bleak now, don't give up. Two years ago I was huddled in my car drinking cold soup right out of the can. Things change.
If you work hard, give it time, and don't give up, things will always get better. Oftentimes our dreams lie in wait just a little further upstream... all we need is the courage to push beyond the river.
- Alex W. Miller
- Sent from Inspirational Short Stories (android app), https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.inspirational.stories.personality.development
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."
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
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..."
- Sent from Inspirational Short Stories (android app), https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.inspirational.stories.personality.development
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)