Hello there guys, Please take the time to browse this part of my hp. Why? Because I could say that it is in here that you can see the spiritual and philosophical side of me. These are the things that touched me and serves as my inspirations in life. Please Please read each story and try to open your mind, heart and soul and let the message of each story "sink" in to you. These stories have been personally picked by me -- guaranteed to touch your very bone marrow. Read on ... Thanks.
The Lesson Plan
It was just an ordinary day. The children came to school on buses; there was the usual hubbub of excitement as they greeted each other. I looked over my plan book and I never felt better prepared to face the day. It would be a good day, I knew, and we would accomplish a lot. We took our places around the reading table and settled in for a good reading class. The first thing in my agenda was to check workbooks to see that the necessary work has been completed.
When I came to Troy, he had his head down as he shoved his unfinished assignment in front of me. He tried to pull himself back out of my sight as he sat on my right-hand side. Naturally, I looked at the incomplete work and said, "Troy, this is not finished."
He looked up at me with the most pleading eyes I have seen in a child and said, "I couldn’t do it last night coz my mother is dying."
The sobs that followed startled the entire class. How glad I was that he was sitting next to me. Yes, I took him in my arms and his head rested against my chest. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Troy was hurting, hurting so much that I was afraid his little heart would break. His sobs echoed through the room and tears flowed copiously. The children sat with tear-filled eyes in dead silence. Only Troy’s sobs broke the stillness of that morning class. One child raced for the Kleenex box while I just pressed his little body closer to my heart. I could feel my blouse being soaked by those precious tears. Helplessly, my tears fell upon his head.
The question that confronted me was, "What do I do for a child who is losing his mother?" The only thought that came to my mind was, "Love him... show him you care ... cry with him." It seemed as though the whole bottom was coming out of his young life, and I could do little to help him. Choking back my tears, I said to the group, "Let us say a prayer for Troy and his mother." A more fervent prayer never floated to heaven. After some time, Troy looked up at me and said, "I think I will be ok now." He had exhausted his supply of tears; he released the burden in his heart. Later that afternoon, Troy’s mother died.
When I went to the funeral parlor, Troy rushed to greet me. It was as though he had been waiting for me, that he expected I would come. He fell into my arms and I just rested there awhile. He seemed to gain strength and courage , and the face of his mother, to face death even though he might never be able to understand the mystery of it.
That night I went to bed thanking God that He had given me the good sense to set aside my reading plan and to hold the broken heart of a child in my own heart.
Sister Carleen Brennan
(from Chicken Soup for the Soul)
The Most Caring Child
Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old whose next-door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old man’s yard, climbed onto his lap and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."
Ellen Kredman
Submitted by Donna Bernard
(from Chicken Soup for the Soul)
The Little Boy and the Old Man
Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the little old man, "I do that do too."
The little boy whispered, " I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the old man.
Said the little boy, " I often cry."
The old man nodded. "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.
Shel Silverstein
Submitted by Ruth Wiele
(from Chicken Soup for the Soul)
Legacy of an Adopted Child
Once there were two women who never knew each other.
One you do not remember, the other you call Mother.
Two different lives shaped to make you one.
Once became your guiding star. The other became your sun.
The first gave you a need for love, the second was there to give it.
One gave you a nationality, the other gave you a name.
One gave you a talent, the other gave you aim.
One gave you emotions, the other calmed your fears.
One saw your first smile, the other dried your tears.
One sought for you a home that she could not provide,
The other prayed for a child and her hope was not denied.
And now you ask me through your tears
The age-old question, unanswered through the years.
Heredity or environment. Which are you a product of?
Neither, my darling. Neither. Just two different kinds of love.
Author Unknown
(from Chicken Soup for the Soul)
The Lord Lays His Head
During a night of terrible temptation, Hierarcus prayed to our Lord. "Please, Lord, help me," he whispered. A voice from within replied, "Do not be afraid, I am already within you. In fact, my head is laying on your heart." "But if your head does lay on my heart, how come there is pain still?" "You might have forgotten, son," the voice retorted, "I wear a crown of thorns on my head."
Bro. Andrew Maria
(from Parcels of Truths)
A Crippled Baby
After 20 years of childless marriage, the couple’s joy knew no bounds when they learned that a baby was on the way. But on the day of the delivery the doctor’s heart ached to see that the infant had only a stump of a left arm. He steeled himself to tell the father and offered to break the news to the mother. "No." Said the father sturdily, "I want to tell her myself." Together they placed the swathed baby by the mother’s side. She admired the soft petal skin, traced the hairline with her fingers and looked proudly at her husband, "She’s perfect, isn’t she?"
Something in her husband’s eyes warned her. Slowly she removed the blankets and saw the crippled arm. The room was very quiet. Them she turned against her husband and said softly, "John, the Lord knew just where to send this baby, didn’t He? He understood how much we needed her and how much he needed us."
Eva Fortier
(from 1000 Stories by Frank Mihalic)