A very special meal

Once there was a very poor and devoted woman who always prayed to the Glory of God, asking very little, if anything for herself. But one thought, one desire continued to recur and finally she asked: petitioning the Lord, that if it were possible she would love to prepare a special meal and have God share at her table. And God, in His Love for this goodly woman, said He would indeed come the next day and share a meal.

        Filled with ecstasy, the woman went out the following morning with her meager purse and purchased such delicacies that she felt would please the Lord.

        Returning home, she prepared a banquet and waited patiently for her most honored guest. Soon there was a knock on the door, and when she opened it, there stood an old beggar asking for something to eat. Being a woman of God, she could not turn the beggar away, so she invited him in to partake of her table. The beggar felt as if he was in a dream - such a feast set before him. He finished all the food, thanked his hostess and left.

        The woman was only slightly disheartened, she gathered up her purse, her coat, and hurried back to town to get more food for her special guest. Her funds were less now and so the food was not quite so elaborate. Nonetheless, she lovingly prepared another meal and sat to await the arrival of the Almighty.

        A few hours went by and there was a loud knock on the door. This time it was an old gypsy woman with no teeth, who was deaf, who spoke quite loudly and was, rather rudely, insisting that any true believer in the Lord would not deny her something to eat.

        Though the woman had no more money with which to buy more supplies, she invited the woman in and offered her a seat at the table. The gypsy ate everything, did not even thank the woman and left without closing the door.

        By now it was beginning to get dark both inside and out. The woman's faith was strong, so that, though somewhat distraught, she did not give up, but rather, looked around her humble house to see if there was anything she could sell in order to buy more food to set before the Lord.

        She hurried to town with a little silver cup that had been in her family for several generations, but she was willing to part with it for the great honor that God was going to bestow on her - the sharing of a meal.

        Late in the night she rushed home to prepare yet a third meal. She waited and waited until, once more, there was a knock on the door. Holding her breath, she slowly opened the door to find yet another poor man in the guise of a wandering monk, in search of a meal.

        Again, she offered hospitality, with as much grace as she could muster in her disappointment. This man also ate all that was set on the table and left after blessing the woman for her kindness. So discouraged and dismayed was she that all she could do was nod slightly, in acknowledgment of the thanks.

        Now it was too late, with no way to buy any more food and no more money with which to buy it. She got down on her knees, weeping such heart-broken tears. She asked God what she had done wrong. Why had God not come to share at the table as He had promised?

        And God, in all His Divine Compassion and Mercy, lifted the woman off her knees, and holding her close to His Heart, said, "My child, I enjoyed your hospitality so much that I came three times!"

        - Mirabai Chrin
   

- Sent from Inspirational Short Stories (android app)

All The Way Shay!

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: ‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

        The audience was stilled by the query.

        The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

        Then he told the following story:

        Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys were playing baseball. Shay asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me play?’ Shay’s father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

        Shay’s father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.’

        Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt . His father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father’s joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

        At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

        However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

        The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

        Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, ‘Shay, run to first! Run to first!’ Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

        Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!’ Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

        All were screaming, ‘Shay, Shay, Shay, all the way Shay!’

        Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, ‘Run to third, Shay, run to third!’

        As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, ‘Shay, run home! Run home!’ Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

        ‘That day’, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, ‘the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world’.

        Young Shay would never forget what it felt like to be a hero that day.

        Neither would the other boys.

        "The decency of any society can be measured by how it treats its most vulnerable citizens."
   

Keepers

I grew up in the '50s with very practical parents. A mother, God love her,who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it.

        My father was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones. Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the other.

        It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.

        But then my mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more. Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away...never to return. So, while we have it... it's best we love it... and care for it... and fix it when it's broken... and heal it when it's sick.

        This is true for marriage... and old cars... and children with bad report cards... and dogs with bad hips... and aging parents... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.

The Young Merman

Once upon a time there was a young merman who lived in a beautiful kingdom deep in the ocean. Ever since he had been born he had always been surrounded by magnificent coral reefs, exotic sea creatures and the breath-taking architecture of the mer-people. Yet he never seemed happy, as he always saw the worst in everything and was critical of those around him. Of course, this made him very unpopular with the other mermen and mermaids, and he often found himself alone, thinking about how awful everything and everyone was.

        He did, however, have one friend; the eldest and wisest merman in the kingdom. This old merman had known the young merman’s parents for a very long time, and he knew that the boy had never had any friends because of his negative attitude. The wise merman felt sorry for the boy, and so, when he could, he would take some time to talk to the boy and try to help him.

        One morning the boy and the wise merman were taking a gentle swim through the kingdom. The wise merman was admiring what a beautiful morning it was turning out to be, but the boy could only notice that the water was colder than he liked it and that the dolphins were being too playful and noisy.

        “But what about the coral?” suggested the old merman. “Aren’t the colours glorious today?”

        “I guess,” the boy shrugged. “If you happen to like orange, red and pink.”

        The old merman looked at the boy for a moment, before the boy finished, “Which I don’t.”

        The old merman sighed, wondering if he would ever be able to think of something to make the boy happy. He wrapped the end of his long, white beard around his finger and then unwrapped it again.

        “Well,” he said, “I should be on my way. I have a class to teach”.

        “What are teaching today?” asked the boy.

        “Today I’ll be teaching about God.”

        “God?”

        “Yes, God. Have you never heard of God?”

        “No. How would I? I’ve never been to any of your lessons.”

        “Hmm.” The old merman stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well, that is a shame. Cheerio then.”

        As the old merman began to leave the boy stopped him.

        “Hey! Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”

        “What what is?”

        “God!”

        “Oh, I see. Well, you can find God everywhere really…”

        “Everywhere? But that’s impossible…. Isn’t it?”

        “No, it’s very possible.”

        “Well, what does it look like then?”

        “It looks like you, and me, and the dolphins and the coral….”

        The boy frowned at the old merman. “So God isn’t really anything at all?”

        The wise, old merman smiled at the boy for a brief moment and then turned away to leave.

        “You tell me!” he said as he swam away. “Go and find it and then tell me if it isn’t really anything at all!”

        ~

        The young merman swam around the kingdom aimlessly for a while, feeling cross about the nonsense the old merman had been speaking.

        “What rubbish,” thought the boy. “God looks like everything? God can’t be very special then!”

        Frowning, he looked around him, at the buildings, the mer-people and the shimmering fish. Then he remembered the old merman’s words.

        “Fine,” he thought. “I’ll look for it, and then I’ll tell him what I think!”

        The boy swam straight up to a dolphin, folded his arms across his chest and stared at it.

        “So you’re God, are you?”

        The dolphin looked at the boy and grinned. The boy didn’t grin back.

        “God has a chunk missing from its fin and has bits of fish caught in its teeth, does it?! How stupid!”

        The boy swam off, leaving behind the dolphin who had started to laugh.

        The boy was in such a bad mood whilst he was swimming that he swam right into a beautiful mermaid with long, golden hair. She looked cross at first, but her face softened and she smiled at the boy.

        “You must be in a rush to get somewhere,” she said gently.

        “Not really,” the boy replied.

        “Well, just try to be careful then, you wouldn’t want to hurt someone.”

        Another frown appeared on the boys face and he swam on.

        “Well, she can’t be God, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t want to hurt someone… Who does she think she is?”

        The boy swam up to a high cliff which overlooked the entire kingdom. He slumped down onto a rock, feeling very hard-done-by. As he looked down he saw a tiny, brightly coloured fish feeding off of the algae which grew on the rock.

        “You can’t be God either,” said the boy glumly. “You’re far too small.”

        ~

        As the evening closed in and the lights of the kingdom began to sparkle in the dark water, the boy sighed. He had been looking for God all day, and all that he had found was a stupid dolphin, a rude mermaid and a small, insignificant fish. The young merman was just about to call it a day and swim home, when he spotted his old friend swimming slowly towards him.

        “What are you doing all the way up here?” asked the wise merman. “You’re a long way from the town.”

        “Well I was doing what you said and…” the boy replied venomously, but the old merman raised his hand to silence the boy.

        “So you’ve been up here all day? Too angry and self absorbed to notice when God is right in front of you?”

        The boy opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again, suddenly feeling foolish.

        “Look,” said the old merman forcefully. And he pointed towards the kingdom; towards the lights spilling from the buildings, and the glittering schools of fish weaving gracefully in and out of the tall towers and low coral houses; towards the beautiful mermaids and mermen rushing to and fro throughout the kingdom and the enormous shadows of whales on the outskirts of the underwater city. From high up on the cliff every individual movement seemed like a cog in the one big movement of the whole kingdom. Each life and action seemed to fit perfectly with everything else.

        The boy sat watching the kingdom, which seemed like one united pulse of colour, movement and breath. He had never seen it this way before.

        “Do you see God now?” asked the old merman gently.

        “Yes,” said the boy, in awe. “I… I never noticed it before. It’s all perfect, isn’t it? Why didn’t I see it before?”

        “When you stop thinking about yourself and how you wish the world would be, you start to see how the world really is. And it’s better than anything that you wished for, isn’t it? Because it doesn’t revolve around you and your ideas; you’re just part of the beautiful flow of it all. Doesn’t that feel good to know?”

        Just then the boy saw the tiny, coloured fish which he had seen earlier that day. It was casually swimming over the rocks, experiencing every moment as it arrived and not expecting anything at all. The boy suddenly realised how much like the tiny fish he’d like to be.

        He laughed. “Yes, it feels wonderful!”

        - Jenni Piech

A 'YES' Face

During Thomas Jefferson's presidency he and a group of travelers were crossing a river that had overflowed its banks. Each man crossed on horseback fighting for his life. A lone traveler watched the group traverse the treacherous river and then asked President Jefferson to take him across. The president agreed without hesitation, the man climbed on, and the two made it safely to the other side of the river where somebody asked him: "Why did you select the President to ask this favor?" The man was shocked, admitting he had no idea it was the President of the United States who had carried him safely across. "All I know," he said, "is that on some of your faces was written the answer 'No' and on some of them was the answer 'Yes.' His was a 'Yes' face."

        - Charles Swindoll

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Growing Good Corn

There once was a farmer who grew award-winning corn. Each year he entered his corn in the state fair where it won a blue ribbon.

        One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it. The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors.

        "How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year?" the reporter asked.

        "Why sir," said the farmer, "didn't you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn."

        He is very much aware of the connectedness of life. His corn cannot improve unless his neighbor's corn also improves.

        So it is with our lives. Those who choose to live in peace must help their neighbors to live in peace. Those who choose to live well must help others to live well, for the value of a life is measured by the lives it touches. And those who choose to be happy must help others to find happiness, for the welfare of each is bound up with the welfare of all.

        The lesson for each of us is this: if we are to grow good corn, we must help our neighbors grow good corn.

        "It is possible to give away and become richer! It is also possible to hold on too tightly and lose everything. Yes, the liberal man shall be rich! By watering others, he waters himself."

The Dream

He gently opened his eyes and the warm sun beat upon his face. He lay among the soft caress of the grass and a gentle wind embraced him. His father sat underneath a tree a few feet way beside the babbling brook.

        "You are awake," his father smiled.

        "I fell asleep dad."

        "You did my son."

        "I had a dream dad."

        His father rose and sat beside him. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

        "It was so real dad. I dreamt of missiles falling from the sky and little kids, even younger than I getting killed and maimed. The world was in a bad state. Millions were poor dad, not even with enough to eat. There were homeless people and destitute. There were huge storms and hurricanes and all types of disasters happening. People were fighting all of the time – over land, possessions, oil and money. Rainforests were dying dad and animals of all types were in danger and the earth was actually heating up! And I dreamt of growing up in this world and I was having happy times and sad times. And I lived a life dad. I did! I had a wife and kids and it was crazy fast you know. Everything went so quickly. And I felt so much. I was scared, full of joy, there was fear and hope. And so many times I felt helpless. And a lot of the time I felt so lonely. Worst of all dad, I didn't know where you were. I kinda knew you were there somewhere and I kept calling out for you. In fact sometimes I gave up hope and told myself that you didn't exist at all. But deep down I had a feeling you were somewhere. As I grew older I stopped searching for you out there and started looking within. Which was strange really but I kinda felt you were a part of me dad just as I was a part of you. It was full on dad and then I just woke up!"

        His father looked at him with love in his wise eyes. "That’s some dream son!"

        "How long was I asleep dad?"

        "Mmmmmm perhaps 5 minutes... not much more."

        "Wow! All of that in 5 minutes?"

        The son looked knowingly at his dad for awhile.

        "Dad that was my first dream."

        "I know son... and your last... if you so choose."

        "Dad?"

        "Yes my son?"

        "Did you know I was dreaming?"

        "Why yes, of course."

        The son reflected on this for a moment.

        "So dad, during the bad parts of the dream did you know I was suffering?"

        "My son, you may have appeared to be suffering in the dream but were always perfectly safe with me here."

        "You could have woken me?"

        "I could, but I didn't. You would have woken with a start. It would have been a little frightening for you that way. You gently came out of the dream yourself. You choose to enter the dream state. It is best if you choose to exit."

        The son stretched out on the grass.

        "Dad?"

        "Yes my son."

        "I love you."

        "I know, my child. We are love."

        - Diarmuid Cronin

Thanks for your time

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

        Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday."

        Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

        "Jack, did you hear me?"

        "Oh sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

        "Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

        "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

        "You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

        "He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important... Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

        As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

        The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

        Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.

        The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture... Jack stopped suddenly.

        "What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked.

        "The box is gone," he said.

        "What box?" Mom asked.

        "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.

        It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

        "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

        It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

        Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.

        "Mr. Harold Belser" it read.

        Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

        "Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.

        Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:

        "Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."

        "The thing he valued most...was...my time."

        Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.

        "I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet... thanks for your time!"

Tasting Life

Before the young man began his studies, he wanted assurance from the Master.

        "Can you teach me the goal of human life?"

        "I cannot," replied the Master.

        "Or at least its meaning?"

        "I cannot."

        "Can you indicate to me the nature of death and of life beyond the grave?"

        "I cannot."

        The young man walked away in scorn. The disciples were dismayed that their Master had been shown up in a poor light.

        Said the Master soothingly, "Of what is it to comprehend life's nature and life's meaning if you have never tasted it? I'd rather you ate your pudding than speculated on it."

        - Anthony De Mello

        Related Quote:

        "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves... Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you will not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

Enjoy the journey called Life

Can u judge who is the better person out of these 3 ?

Mr A - He had friendship with bad politicians, consults astrologers, two wives, chain smoker, drinks eight to 10 times a day.

Mr B - He was kicked out of office twice, sleeps till noon, used opium in college & drinks whiskey every evening.

Mr C - He is a decorated war hero, a vegetarian, doesn't smoke, doesn't drink  and never cheated on his wife and was a painter

You would say Mr.C

right?

But..
Mr. A was Franklin Roosevelt! ( 32nd President of the USA)

Mr. B was Winston Churchill!! (Former British Prime Minister)

Mr C Was ADOLF HITLER!!!

Strange but true..
Its risky to judge anyone by his habits !
Character is a complex phenomenon.

So every person in ur life is important, don't judge them, accept them.

..The same Boiling Water that hardens the egg, Will Soften the Potato!
It depends upon Individual's reaction To stressful circumstances!

Enjoy the journey called Life......