Inspirational

Stories

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. 

As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! 

He slammed on the brakes and spun the Jag back to the spot from whence the brick had been thrown. He jumped out of the car, grabbed the trower and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing?" Building up a head of steam he went on. "That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?" 

"Please, mister, please! I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do!" pleaded the youngster. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop." Tears were dripping down the boys chin as he pointed around the parked car. "It's my brother," he said. "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair, and I can't lift him up." Sobbing, the boy asked the executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt, and he's too heavy for me." 

Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He lifted the young man back into the wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes and cuts, checking to see that everything was going to be okay. 

"Thank you and God bless you," the grateful child said to him. The man then watched the little boy push his brother down the sidewalk toward their home. 

It was a long walk back to his Jaguar, a long, slow walk. He never did repair the side door. He kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at him to get his attention. 

God whispers in your soul and speaks to your heart. Sometimes when you don't have time to listen, He has to "throw a brick" at you. It's your choice: Listen to the whisper or wait for the brick. 

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A man came home from work late again, tired and irritated, to find his 5 year old son waiting for him at the door.

"Daddy, may I ask you a question ?"
"Yeah, sure, what is it ?" replied the man. 
"Daddy, how much money do you make an hour?"
"'that's none of your business!  What makes you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily.

"I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy.

"If you must know, I make £10.00 an hour." 
"Oh," the little boy replied, head bowed.
Looking up, he said, "Daddy, may I borrow £4.00 please?" 

The father was furious. "If the only reason you wanted to know how much money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you're being so selfish. I work long, hard hours everyday and don't have time for such childish games." 

The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.  The man sat down and started to get even madder about the little boy's questioning. How dare he ask such questions only to get  some money.

After an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think he may have been a little hard on his son.  May be there was something he really needed to buy with that £4.00 and he really didn't ask for money very often. 

The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door. 

"Are you asleep son?" he asked.
"No daddy, I'm awake,"  replied the boy.
"I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the man.
"It's been long day and I took my aggravation out on you.   Here's that £4.00 you asked for."

The little boy sat straight up,  beaming. 
"Oh, thank you daddy!" he yelled.

Then, reaching under his  pillow, he pulled out some more old coins. The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again.

The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at the man. 

"Why did you want more money if you already had some?" the  father grumbled.

"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied.

"Daddy, I have £10.00 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?" 

Share this story with someone you like... but even better, share £10.00 worth of time with someone you love. 

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The Smile
Author unknown

Many Americans are familiar with The Little Prince, a wonderful book by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. This is a whimsical and fabulous book and works as a children’s story as well as a thought-provoking adult fable. 

Far fewer are aware of Saint-Exupery’s other writings, novels and short stories. 

Saint-Exupery was a fighter pilot who fought against the Nazis and was killed in action. Before World War II, he fought in the Spanish Civil War against the fascists. He wrote a fascinating story based on that experience entitled The Smile (Le Sourire). It is this story which I’d like to share with you now. It isn’t clear whether or not he meant this to be autobiographical or fiction. I choose to believe it to be the former. 

He said that he was captured by the enemy and thrown into a jail cell. He was sure that from the contemptuous looks and rough treatment he received from his jailers he would be executed the next day. From here, I’ll tell the story as I remember it in my own words. 

I was sure that I was to be killed. I became terribly nervous and distraught. I fumbled in my pockets to see if there were any cigarettes which had escaped their search. I found one and because of my shaking hands, I could barely get it to my lips. But I had no matches, they had taken those. 

I looked through the bars at my jailer. He did not make eye contact with me. After all, one does not make eye contact with a thing, a corpse. 

I called out to him ‘Have you got a light, por favor?’ He looked at me, shrugged and came over to light my cigarette. 

As he came close and lit the match, his eyes inadvertently locked with mine. At that moment, I smiled. I don’t know why I did that. Perhaps it was nervousness, perhaps it was because, when you get very close, one to another, it is very hard not to smile. In any case, I smiled. In that instant, it was as though a spark jumped across the gap between our two hearts, our two human souls. I know he didn’t want to, but my smile leaped through the bars and generated a smile on his lips, too. He lit my cigarette but stayed near, looking at me directly in the eyes and continuing to smile. 

I kept smiling at him, now aware of him as a person and not just a jailer. And his looking at me seemed to have a new dimension, too. ‘Do you have kids?’ he asked. 

‘Yes, here, here.’ I took out my wallet and nervously fumbled for the pictures of my family. He, too, took out the pictures of his ninos and began to talk about his plans and hopes for them. My eyes filled with tears. I said that I feared that I’d never see my family again, never have the chance to see them grow up. Tears came to his eyes, too. 

Suddenly, without another word, he unlocked my cell and silently led me out. Out of the jail, quietly and by back routes, out of the town. There, at the edge of town, he released me. And without another word, he turned back toward the town. 

My life was saved by a smile. 

Yes, the smile - the unaffected, unplanned natural connection between people. I tell this story in my work because I’d like people to consider that underneath all the layers we construct to protect ourselves, our dignity, our titles, our degrees, our status and our need to be seen in certain ways - underneath all that, remains the authentic, essential self. 
I’m not afraid to call it the soul. I really believe that if that part of you and that part of me could recognize each other, we wouldn’t be enemies. We couldn’t have hate or envy or fear. I sadly conclude that all those other layers, which we so carefully construct through our lives, distance and insulate us from truly contacting others. Saint-Exupery’s story speaks of that magic moment when two souls recognize each other. 

I’ve had just a few moments like that. Falling in love is one example. And looking at a baby. Why do we smile when we see a baby? Perhaps it’s because we see someone without all the defensive layers, someone whose smile for us we know to be fully genuine and without guile. And that baby-soul inside us smiles wistfully in recognition. 

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There were once 2 brothers who lived on the 80th level. On coming home one day, they realized to their dismay that the lifts were not working and that they have to climb the stairs home. 
After struggling to the 20th level, panting and tired, they decided to abandon their bags and come back for them the next day. They left their bags then and climbed on. When they have struggled to the 40th level, 
the younger brother started to grumble and both of them began to quarrel. They continued to climb the
flights of steps, quarreling all the way to the 60th floor. 

They then realized that they have only 20 levels more to climb and decided to stop quarreling and continue climbing in peace. They silently climbed on and reached their home at long last. Each stood calmly before the door and waited for the other to open the door. 

And they realized that the key was in their bags which was left on the 20th floor 

This story is reflecting on our life...many of us live under the expectations of our parents, teachers and friends when young. We seldom get to do the things that we really like and love and are under so much pressure and stress so that by the age of 20, we get tired and decided to dump this load. 

Being free of the stress and pressure, we work enthusiastically and dream ambitious wishes. 

But by the time we reach 40 years old, we start to lose our vision and dreams. We began to feel unsatisfied and start to complain and criticize. We live life as a misery as we are never satisfied. Reaching 60, we realize that we have little left for complaining anymore, and we began to walk the final episode in peace and calmness. 

We think that there is nothing left to disappoint us, only to realize that we could not rest in peace because we have an unfulfilled dream ...... a dream we abandoned 60 years ago. 

So what is your dream? 

Follow your dreams, so that you will not live with regrets.

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"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. 
The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. 

It was only his appearance that was marred. 

When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks. 

He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy. . . called me a freak." 

He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. 

He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. 

"But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart. 

The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured" the doctor decided. Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by. Then, "You are going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret" said the father. 

The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. 

"But I must know!" He urged his father. "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him." 

"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know . . . not yet." 

The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come. . . one of the darkest days that ever pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal. . . that the mother had no
outer ears. 

"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they"? 

Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in
what that is done but not known

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           One morning Genghis Khan, the great king and warrior, rode out into the woods to
           have a day's sport. Many of his friends were with him. They rode out gayly,
           carrying their bows and arrows. Behind them came the servants with the hounds. 

           It was a merry hunting party. The woods rang with their shouts and laughter. They
           expected to carry much game home in the evening. 

           On the king's wrist sat his favorite hawk, for in those days hawks were trained to
           hunt. At a word from their masters they would fly high up into the air, and look
           around for prey. If they chanced to see a deer or a rabbit, they would swoop down
           upon it swift as any arrow. 

           All day long Genghis Khan and his huntsmen rode through the woods. But they did
           not find as much game as they expected. 

           Toward evening they started for home. The king had often ridden through the
           woods, and he knew all the paths. So while the rest of the party took the nearest
           way, he went by a longer road through a valley between two mountains. 

           The day had been warm, and the king was very thirsty. His pet hawk left his wrist
           and flown away. It would be sure to find its way home. 

           The king rode slowly along. He had once seen a spring of clear water near this
           pathway. If he could only find it now! But the hot days of summer had dried up all
           the mountain brooks. 

           At last, to his joy, he saw some water trickling down over the edge of a rock. He
           knew that there was a spring farther up. In the wet season, a swift stream of water
           always poured down here; but now it came only one drop at a time. 

           The king leaped from his horse. He took a little silver cup from his hunting bag. He
           held it so as to catch the slowly falling drops. 

           It took a long time to fill the cup; and the king was so thirsty that he could hardly
           wait. At last it was nearly full. He put the cup to his lips, and was about to drink. 

           All at once there was a whirring sound in the air, and the cup was knocked from
           his hands. The water was all spilled upon the ground. 

           The king looked up to see who had done this thing. It was his pet hawk. 

           The hawk flew back and forth a few times, and then alighted among the rocks by
           the spring. 

           The king picked up the cup, and again held it to catch the trickling drops. 

           This time he did not wait so long. When the cup was half full, he lifted it toward
           his mouth. But before it had touched his lips, the hawk swooped down again, and
           knocked it from his hands. 

           And now the king began to grow angry. He tried again, and for the third time the
           hawk kept him from drinking. 

           The king was now very angry indeed. 

           "How do you dare to act so?" he cried. "If I had you in my hands, I would wring
           your neck!" 

           Then he filled his cup again. But before he tried to drink, he drew his sword. 

           "Now, Sir Hawk," he said, "that is the last time." 

           He had hardly spoken before the hawk swooped down and knocked the cup from
           his hand. But the king was looking for this. With a quick sweep of the sword he
           struck the bird as it passed. 

           The next moment the poor hawk lay bleeding and dying at its master's feet. 

           "That is what you get for your pains," said Genghis Khan. 

           But when he looked for his cup, he found that it had fallen between two rocks,
           where he could not reach it. 

           "At any rate, I will have a drink from that spring," he said to himself. 

           With that he began to climb the steep bank to the place from which the water
           trickled. It was hard work, and the higher he climbed, the thirstier he became. 

           At last he reached the place. There indeed was a pool of water; but what was that
           lying in the pool, and almost filling it? It was a huge, dead snake of the most
           poisonous kind. 

           The king stopped. He forgot his thirst. He thought only of the poor dead bird lying
           on the ground below him. 

           "The hawk saved my life!" he cried, "and how did I repay him? He was my best
           friend, and I have killed him." 

           He clambered down the bank. He took the bird up gently, and laid it in his hunting
           bag. Then he mounted his horse and rode swiftly home. He said to himself, 

           "I have learned a sad lesson today, and that is, never to do anything in anger." 

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