|
THE
SMELL OF RAIN
by Unknown
At
the end of this story, it gives you two options.. I think you will
figure out what option I chose.
A cold March wind danced
around the dead of night in Dallas as the doctor walked into the
small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was still groggy
from surgery. Her husband, David, held her hand as they braced
themselves for the latest news.
That afternoon of March 10,
1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to
undergo an emergency Caesarean to deliver the couple's new daughter,
Dana Lu Blessing. At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound and
nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature.
Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs. "I don't
think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he could.
"There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night,
an even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future
could be a very cruel one".
Numb with disbelief, David and
Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Dana
would likely face if she survived.
She would never walk, she
would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would
certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral
palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.
"No!
No!" was all Diana could say. She and David, with their 5-year-olds
on Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to
become a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream
was slipping away.
Through the dark hours of morning as Dana
held onto life by the thinnest thread, Diana slipped in and
out of sleep, growing more and more determined that their tiny
daughter would live and live to be a healthy, happy young girl.
But David, fully awake and listening to additional dire details
of their daughter's chances of ever leaving the hospital alive, much
less healthy, knew he must confront his wife with the inevitable.
David walked in and said that we needed to talk about making
funeral arrangements. Diana felt so bad for him because he was doing
everything to try to include her in what was going on, but she just
wouldn't listen, she couldn't listen. She said, "No, that is not
going to happen, no way!
I don't care what the doctors say.
Dana is not going to die! One day she will be just fine, and she
will be coming home with us!"
As if willed to live by
Diana's determination, Dana clung to life hour after hour, with the
help of every medical machine and marvel her miniature body could
endure.
But as those first days passed, a new agony set in
for David and Diana.
Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous
system was essentially 'raw,' the lightest kiss or caress only
intensified her discomfort, so they couldn't even cradle their tiny
baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love.
All they could do, as Dana struggled alone beneath the
ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that
God would stay close to their precious little girl.
There
was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger. But as the
weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an
ounce of strength there.
At last, when Dana turned two
months old, her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the
very first time. And two months later, though doctors continued to
gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less
living any kind of normal life, were next to zero, Dana went home
from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.
Today,
five years later, Dana is a petite but feisty young girl with
glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She shows no
signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she
is everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending
is far from the end of her story.
One blistering afternoon
in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Dana was
sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local ball park
where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing.
As
always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several
other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent. Hugging
her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, "Do you smell that?"
Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana
replied, "Yes, it smells like rain."
Dana closed her eyes
and again asked, "Do you smell that?"
Once again, her mother
replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet. It smells like rain."
Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her
thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it
smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His
chest."
Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped
down to play with the other children.
Before the rains came,
her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the
extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all
along.
During those long days and nights of her first two
months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to
touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving
scent that she remembers so well.
Top
ABOUT AGE
by Unknown
Do you realize
that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when
we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited
about aging that you think in fractions.
"How old are you?"
"I'm four and a half!" You're never thirty-six and a half. You're
four and a half, going on five!
That's the key.
You
get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the
next number, or even a few ahead. "How old are you?" "I'm
gonna be 16!" You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then
the greatest day of your life . . . you become 21.
Even the
words sound like a ceremony . . . YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!!
But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound
like bad milk. He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no
fun now, you're just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed?
You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40.
Whoa!
Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away. Before you know it, you
REACH 50 . . . and your dreams are gone.
But wait!!! You MAKE
it to 60. You didn't think you would!
So you BECOME 21, TURN
30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60.
You've built up so
much speed that you HIT 70! After that it's a day-by-day
thing; you HIT Wednesday!
You get into your 80s and every day
is a complete cycle; you HIT lunch; you TURN 4:30; you REACH
bedtime.
And it doesn't end there. Into the 90s, you start
going backwards; "I Was JUST 92."
Then a strange thing
happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again.
"I'm 100 and a half!"
May you all make it to a healthy 100
and a half!!
Top
HOW TO STAY
YOUNG
by
Unknown
1. Throw out
nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height.
Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay " them " .
2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.
3. Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts,
gardening, whatever. Never let the brain idle. " An idle mind
is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.
4. Enjoy the simple things.
5. Laugh often, long and
loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.
6. The tears happen.
Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our
entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.
7.
Surround yourself with what you love, Whether it's family, pets,
keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your
refuge.
8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it.
If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve,
get help.
9. Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall,
even to the next county; to a foreign country but NOT to where the
guilt is.
10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at
every opportunity. AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not
measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that
take our breath away.
We all need to live life to its fullest
each day.
Top
A
STORY TO LIVE BY by Ann Wells
My
brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and
lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a
slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the
slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with
cobweb of
lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still
attached. "Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at
least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a
special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion." He took the
slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were
taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for
a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me. "Don't
ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is
a special occasion."
I remembered those words through the
funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece
attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I
thought about them on the plane returning to California from the
Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all
the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about
the things that she had done without realizing that they were
special.
I'm still thinking about his words, and they've
changed my life. I知 reading more and dusting less. I'm
sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the
weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and
friends and less time
in committee meetings. Whenever possible,
life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I'm
trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.
I'm
not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every
special event-such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped,
the first camellia blossom.
I wear my good blazer to the
market if I feel like it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can
shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I'm
not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware
stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my
party-going friends'.
"Someday" and
"one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's
worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it
now. I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that
she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we
all take for granted. I
think she would have called family members and a few close friends.
She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend
fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone
out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm guessing-I'll never
know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me
angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off
seeing good Friends whom I was going to get in touch with-someday.
Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to
write-one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my
husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them.
I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything
that would add laughter and luster to our lives.
And every
morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.
Top
THE TREASURE
by Alice Gray
The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five.
Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a
circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box. "Oh please,
Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please!"
Quickly the
mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back
into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face.
"A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00 If you really want
them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can
save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a
week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and
counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of
chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she
could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did
give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to
buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel
dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere--Sunday school,
kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when
she went swimming or had a bubble bath.
Mother said if they
got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very
loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would
stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story.
One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love
me?"
"Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you."
"Then
give me your pearls."
"Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can
have Princess--the white horse from my collection. The one with the
pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite."
"That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night." And he
brushed her cheek with a kiss.
About a week later, after the
story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?"
"Daddy, you know I love you."
"Then give me your pearls."
"Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my babydoll. The
brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can
have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."
"That's
okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you." And
as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.
A few
nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed
with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her
chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.
"What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?"
Jenny didn't say
anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when
she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little
quiver, she finally said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."
With
tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with
one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he
reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a
strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny. He had had them all
the time.
He was just waiting for her to give up the
dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure. What
are you hanging on to?
Top
DOGS' LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
by Unknown
I, because the
burdens of my years are heavy upon me and realize the end of my life
is near, do with this bury my last will and testament in the mind of
my master. He will not know it is there until after I am gone. Then,
remembering me in his loneliness, he will suddenly know of this
testament and I ask him to inscribe it as a memorial to me.
I have little in
the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They
do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their
sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they do not have. There
is nothing of value I have to leave except my love and my faith.
These I leave to all those who have loved me, to my master and
mistress, who I know will mourn me most of all.
I ask my master and
mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long.
In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in times of sorrow
and a reason for added joy in their happiness. Thinking that even in
death I should cause them pain is painful for me. Let them remember
that while no dog has had a happier life (and this I owe to their
love and care for me), it is time I said goodbye. It will be a
sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear
death as people do. Beyond is a paradise where one is always young
and full of life; where all the day ones hours are spent chasing
butterflies and playing in massive green fields filled with
beautiful flowers.
I am afraid that
this is too much for such a dog as I am to expect. However, peace,
at least, is certain. Peace and long rest for a weary old heart,
head and limbs and eternal sleep in the earth I loved so well.
One last request I
earnestly make. I have heard my mistress say "when she dies we must
not have another dog. I love her so much and I could never love
another dog like I love her." Now, I would ask her, for love of me,
to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory not to have
another dog.
One final word of
farewell, dear master and mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say
to yourselves with regret, but also with happiness in your hearts at
the memory of my long, happy life with you: "Here lies Bear, who
loved us and whom we loved." No matter how deep my sleep, I
will hear you, and not all the power of death itself will keep my
spirit from wagging a grateful, loving tail.
Remember through
everything, I have and always will love you, dear master and
mistress.
Top
DOG'S PLEA
by Unknown
Treat me
kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more
grateful for kindness than the loving heart of mine.
Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick
your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more
quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.
Speak
to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you
must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls
upon my waiting ear.
Please take me inside when it is cold
and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to
bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of
sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Keep my pan filled with
fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.
Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp and play and do
your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and
able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.
And, my friend, when I am very old, and I no longer enjoy good
health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me
going. I am not having any fun. Please see that my trusting life is
taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath
I draw, that my fate was always safest in your hands.
Top
THE SMALL GIFT
by Unknown
Reverend Chalfant
tells of a couple who were celebrating their golden wedding
anniversary. The husband was asked what the secret was to his
successful marriage. As the elderly are wont to do, the old
gentleman answered with a story.
His wife, Sarah, was the
only girl he ever dated. He grew up in an orphanage and worked hard
for everything he had. He never had time to date until Sarah swept
him off his feet. Before he knew it she had managed to get him to
ask her to marry him.
After they had said their vows on their
wedding day, Sarah's father took the new groom aside and handed him
a small gift. He said, "Within this gift is all you really need to
know to have a happy marriage." The nervous young man fumbled with
the paper and ribbon until he got the package unwrapped.
Within the box lay a large gold watch. With great care he picked it
up. Upon close examination he saw etched across the face of the
watch a prudent reminder he would see whenever he checked the time
of day . . . words that, if heeded, held the secret to a successful
marriage.
They were, "Say something nice to Sarah."
Top
LITTLE TEDDY
STODDARD
by Unknown
There is a story
many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs.
Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the
very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most
teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them
all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front
row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that
he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were
messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be
unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually
take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making
bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.
It the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to
review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until
last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a
surprise.
Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a
bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has
good manners... he is a joy to be around."
His second grade
teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his
classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal
illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third
grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him.
He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest
and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and
doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends
and sometimes sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson
realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even
worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in
beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present
which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got
from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in
the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to
laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones
missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she
stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the
bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her
wrist.
Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long
enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom
used to." After the children left she cried for at least an hour.
On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and
arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children.
Mrs.
Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him,
his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the
faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one
of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she
would love all the children the same, Teddy became one her
"teacher's pets."
A year later, she found a note under her
door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher
he ever had in his whole life.
Six years went by before she
got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished
high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher
he ever had in his whole life.
Four years after that, she
got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at
times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon
graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs.
Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever
had in his whole life.
Then four more years passed and yet
another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his
bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter
explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever
had. But now his name was a little longer-the letter was signed,
Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.
The story doesn't end there. You
see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met
this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his
father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs.
Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was
usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs.
Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with
several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the
perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last
Christmas together.
They hugged each, and Dr. Stoddard
whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for
believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and
showing me that I could make a difference."
Mrs. Thompson,
with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have
it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a
difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."
Top
UNTITLED
by Unknown
It's just a
small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas
tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked
through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not
the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it --
overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a
tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma --the gifts
given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual
shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special
just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our
son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level
at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a
non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church,
mostly black.
These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so
ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them
together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy
blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As
the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was
wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to
protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously
could not afford.
Well, we ended up walloping them. We took
every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat,
he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of
street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated
beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have
won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this
could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids all kids --
and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball
and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. That
afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an
assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously
to the inner-city church.
On Christmas Eve, I placed the
envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done
and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest
thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each
Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of
mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a
check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the
ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope
became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing
opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new
toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted
the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children
grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope
never lost its allure.
The story
doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded
cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in
grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me
placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined
by three more.
Each of our children, unbeknownst to the
others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The
tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our
grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation
watching as their fathers take down the envelope...Mike's spirit,
like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all
remember the Christmas spirit this year and always.
Top
THE PAINTBRUSH
By
Bettie B. Youngs
I keep my paint brush with me
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn稚 show.
I知 so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you値l do - that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I知 afraid I might lose you.
I壇 like to remove all my paint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you値l be patient and close your
eyes,
I値l strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.
Now my coats are all stripped off.
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love me with all that
you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.
I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy
In case someone doesn稚 understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true,
But please let me keep my paint brush
with me
Until I love me, too.
Top
THE SMILE
By
Hanoch McCarty
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.
Top
HOW WOMEN SEE THEMSELVES
Age 8: Looks at herself and sees:
Cinderella/Sleeping Beauty.
Age 15: Looks at herself and sees:
Cinderella/Sleeping
Beauty/Cheerleader or if she
is PMS'ing: sees:
Pimples/UGLY ("Mom, I can't go to school looking like this!")
Age 20: Looks at herself and sees: "too fat/too thin, too short/too
tall, too straight/too curly"- but decides she's going
out anyway.
Age 30: Looks at herself and sees: "too fat/too thin,
too short/too
tall, too straight/too curly"- but
decides she doesn't have time to fix
it so she's
going out anyway.
Age 40: Looks at herself and sees: "too fat/too
thin, too short/too
tall, too straight/too curly" -
but says, "At least I'm clean" and goes
out anyway.
Age 50: Looks at herself and sees: "I am" - and
goes wherever she
wants to.
Age 60: Looks at
herself and reminds herself of all the people who
can't even see themselves in the mirror anymore....goes out and conquers
the world.
Age 70: Looks at herself and sees wisdom, laughter and
ability -
goes out and enjoys life.
Age 80:
Doesn't bother to look. Just puts on a red hat and goes out
to participate in the world.
Age 90: Can't see and
doesn't worry about it!
Top
Find your birthday
and then find your tree... This is really cool and
somewhat
accurate, also in line with Celtic astrology.
Dec 23
to Jan 01 - Apple Tree
Jan 01 to Jan 11 - Fir Tree
Jan 12 to
Jan 24 - Elm Tree
Jan 25 to Feb 03 - Cypress Tree
Feb 04 to
Feb 08 - Poplar Tree
Feb 09 to Feb 18 - Cedar Tree
Feb 19 to
Feb 28 - Pine Tree
Mar 01 to Mar 10 - Weeping Willow Tree
Mar 11 to Mar 20 - Lime Tree
Mar 21 - Oak Tree
Mar 22 to
Mar 31 - Hazelnut Tree
Apr 01 to Apr 10 - Rowan Tree
Apr 11
to Apr 20 - Maple Tree
Apr 21 to Apr 30 - Walnut Tree
May 01
to May 14 - Poplar Tree
May 15 to May 24 - Chestnut Tree
May
25 to Jun 03 - Ash Tree
Jun 04 to Jun 13 - Hornbeam Tree
Jun
14 to Jun 23 - Fig Tree
Jun 25 to Jul 04 - Apple Tree
Jul 05
to Jul 14 - Fir Tree
Jul 15 to Jul 25 - Elm Tree
Jul 26 to
Aug 04 - Cypress Tree
Aug 05 to Aug 13 - Poplar Tree
Aug 14
to Aug 23 - Cedar Tree
Aug 24 to Sep 02 - Pine Tree
Sep 03
to Sep 12 - Weeping Willow Tree
Sep 13 to Sep 22 - Lime Tree
Sep 23 - Olive Tree
Sep 24 to Oct 03 - Hazelnut Tree
Oct 04
to Oct 13 - Rowan Tree
Oct 14 to Oct 23 - Maple Tree
Oct 24
to Nov 11 - Walnut Tree
Nov 12 to Nov 21 - Chestnut Tree
Nov
22 to Dec 01 - Ash Tree
Dec 02 to Dec 11 - Hornbeam Tree
Dec
12 to Dec 21 - Fig Tree
Dec 22 - Beech Tree
APPLE
TREE (the Love) - of slight build, lots of charm, appeal, and
attraction, pleasant aura, flirtatious, adventurous, sensitive,
always in love, wants to love and be loved, faithful and tender
partner, very generous, scientific talents, lives for today, a
carefree philosopher with imagination.
ASH TREE (the
Ambition) - uncommonly attractive, vivacious, impulsive, demanding,
does not care for criticism, ambitious, intelligent, talented,
likes to play with fate, can be egotistic, very reliable and
trustworthy, faithful and prudent lover, sometimes brains rule over
the heart, but takes partnership very seriously.
BEECH
TREE (the Creative) - has good taste, concerned about its looks,
materialistic, good organization of life and career, economical,
good leader, takes no unnecessary risks, reasonable, splendid
lifetime companion, keen on keeping fit (diets, sports, etc.)
BIRCH TREE (the inspiration) - vivacious, attractive,
elegant, friendly, unpretentious, modest, does not like anything in
excess, abhors the vulgar, loves life in nature and in calm, not
very passionate, full of imagination, little ambition, creates a
calm and content atmosphere.
CEDAR TREE (the
Confidence) - of rare beauty, knows how to adapt, likes luxury, of
good health, not in the least shy, tends to look down on others,
self-confident, determined, impatient, likes to impress others,
many talents, industrious, healthy optimism, waiting for the one
true love, able to make quick decisions.
CHESTNUT TREE
(the Honesty) - of unusual beauty, does not want to impress,
well-developed sense of justice, vivacious, interested, a born
diplomat, but irritates easily and sensitive in company, often due
to a lack of self confidence, acts sometimes superior, feels not
understood loves only once, has difficulties in finding a partner.
CYPRESS TREE (the Faithfulness) - strong, muscular,
adaptable, takes what life has to give, content, optimistic, craves
money and acknowledgment, hates loneliness, passionate lover which
cannot be satisfied, faithful, quick-tempered, unruly, pedantic,
and careless.
ELM TREE (the Noble-mindedness) -
pleasant shape, tasteful clothes, modest demands, tends not to
forgive mistakes, cheerful, likes to lead but not to obey, honest
and faithful partner, likes making decisions for others,
noble-minded, generous, good sense of humor, practical.
FIG TREE (the Sensibility) - very strong, a bit self-willed,
independent, does not allow contradiction or arguments, loves life,
its family, children and animals, a bit of a social butterfly, good
sense of humor, likes idleness and laziness, of practical talent
and intelligence.
FIR TREE (the Mysterious) -
extraordinary taste, dignity, sophisticated, loves anything
beautiful, moody, stubborn, tends to egoism but cares for those
close to them, rather modest, very ambitious, talented,
industrious, discontented lover, many friends, many foes, very
reliable
HAZELNUT TREE (the Extraordinary) -
charming, undemanding, very understanding, knows how to make an
impression, active fighter for social cause, popular, moody, and
capricious lover, honest, and tolerant partner, precise sense of
judgment.
HORNBEAM TREE (the Good Taste) - of cool
beauty, cares for its looks and condition, good taste, is not
egoistic, makes life as comfortable as possible, leads a reasonable
and disciplined life, looks for kindness and acknowledgement in an
emotional partner, dreams of unusual lovers, is seldom happy with
its feelings, mistrusts most people, is never sure of its
decisions, very conscientious.
LIME TREE (the Doubt) -
accepts what life dishes out in a composed way, hates fighting,
stress, and labor, dislikes laziness and idleness, soft and
relenting, makes sacrifices for friends, many talents but not
tenacious enough to make them blossom, often wailing and
complaining, very jealous but loyal.
MAPLE TREE
(Independence of Mind) - no ordinary person, full of imagination and
originality, shy and reserved, ambitious, proud, self-confident,
hungers for new experiences, sometimes nervous, has many
complexities, good memory, learns easily, complicated love life,
wants to impress.
OAK TREE (the Brave) - robust
nature, courageous, strong, unrelenting, independent, sensible, does
not like change, keeps its feet on the ground, person of action.
OLIVE TREE (the Wisdom) - loves sun, warmth and kind
feelings, reasonable, balanced, avoids aggression and violence,
tolerant, cheerful, calm, well-developed sense of justice,
sensitive, empathetic, free of jealousy, loves to read and the
company of sophisticated people.
PINE TREE (the
Particular) - loves agreeable company, very robust, knows how to
make life comfortable, very active, natural, good companion, but
seldom friendly, falls easily in love but its passion burns out
quickly, gives up easily, everything disappointments until it finds
its ideal, trustworthy, practical.
POPLAR TREE (the
Uncertainty) - looks very decorative, not very self-confident, only
courageous if necessary, needs goodwill and pleasant surroundings,
very choosy, often lonely, great animosity, artistic nature, good
organizer, tends to lean toward philosophy, reliable in any
situation, takes partnership seriously.
ROWAN TREE
(the Sensitivity) - full of charm, cheerful, gifted without egoism,
likes to draw attention, loves life, motion, unrest, and even
complications, is both dependent and independent, good taste,
artistic, passionate, emotional, good company, does not forgive.
WALNUT TREE (the Passion) - unrelenting, strange and full
of contrasts, often egotistic, aggressive, noble, broad horizon,
unexpected reactions, spontaneous, unlimited ambition, no
flexibility, difficult and uncommon partner, not always liked but
often admired, ingenious strategist, very jealous and passionate,
no compromise.
WEEPING WILLOW (the Melancholy) -
beautiful but full of melancholy, attractive, very empathetic,
loves anything beautiful and tasteful, loves to travel, dreamer,
restless, capricious, honest, can be influenced but is not easy to
live with, demanding, good intuition, suffers in love but finds
sometimes an anchoring partner.
Top
I'VE LEARNED (OR
HOPE TO LEARN)
I've
learned-
that we don't have to change friends if we understand
that friends change.
I've learned-
that no matter how
good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while
and you must forgive them for that
I've learned-
that
true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love
I've learned-
that it's taking
me a long time to become the person I want to be.
I've
learned-
that you can do something in an instant that will give
you heartache for life.
I've learned-
that you should
always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time
you see them.
I've learned-
that you can keep going long
after you can't.
I've learned-
that we are responsible
for what we do, no matter how we feel.
I've learned-
that either you control your attitude or it controls you.
I've learned-
that regardless of how hot and steamy a
relationship is at first, the passion fades,
and there had better
be something else to take its place.
I've learned-
that
heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to
be done, regardless of the consequences.
I've learned- that
money is a lousy way of keeping score.
I've learned-
that
my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best
time.
I've learned-
that sometimes the people you expect
to kick you when you're down will be the ones to
help you get back up.
I've learned-
that sometimes when
I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give
me the right to be cruel.
I've learned-
that just because
someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean that
they don't love you with all they have.
I've learned-
that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've
had and what you've learned from them, and less to do with how many
birthdays you've celebrated.
I've learned-
that it isn't
always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn
to forgive yourself.
I've learned-
that no matter how bad
your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I've learned-
that our background and circumstances may have
influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.
I've learned-
that just because two people argue, it doesn't
mean they don't love each other and just because they don't
argue, it doesn't mean they do.
I've learned-
that you
shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your
life forever.
I've learned-
that two people can look at
the exact same thing and see something totally different.
I've learned-
that your life can be changed in a matter of hours
by people who don't even know you.
I've learned-
that
even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries
out to you, you will find the strength to help.
I've
learned-
that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent
human being.
I've learned-
that the people you care about
most in life are taken from you too soon.
Top
|