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A GARDENER''S LESSON
by Pamela Jenkins
I knelt down in the grass beside my flower bed.
The sun was shining warm on my back and the grass was soft. I started
to pull the weeds that seem to grow up overnight among the flowers. If I
didn''t watch closely, the interlopers would creep in, and in no time they
would crowd out my begonias and marigolds. Every few days I had to remove
the new starts so that my own flowers would stay healthy and strong.
Each weed I pulled was added to a small pile behind me on the lawn.
As I crawled along on my hands and knees, I would start a new pile of
discards every few feet. Sometimes I would stop to admire the pretty
pansies or pick back a spent bloom on a geranium. The butterflies were out
in full force as if to say they appreciated all the effort I put into
growing flowers just for them.
I was working especially hard that day because my parents were coming
for a visit. They had a lovely yard full of flowers, and even a greenhouse
to keep their flowers growing through the winter. I knew I couldn''t
compete with their practiced green thumbs, but I wanted my flowers to look
their best for their inspection.
All too soon, my family''s car pulled into the driveway. I stood up,
brushing the dirt off my hands and glancing back to give my flower bed a
last critical survey. It looked good, I thought to myself.
After a few moments of welcoming my visitors, my mother went into the
house to see her grandchildren. My Dad stood outside on the lawn and
looked around. Then he saw the little piles of weeds at his feet.
"What''s this?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, I was just weeding the beds and hadn''t thrown those away yet," I
said proudly.
I bent over and started to gather up the weeds. I stopped when I saw
the look on my Dad''s face.
It was one of those looks I dreaded with all my heart. Dad was never
a strong disciplinarian in the way that some parents are. He never raised
his hand to us when we were growing up. All he had to do was give us that
look of disappointment and it was enough to make us want to do whatever it
took to make things right again.
Dad studied the wilting weeds on the ground, then looked at me sadly.
"They just want to live, too," he said softly.
I couldn''t believe what I was hearing. My Dad, the master gardener,
feeling sorry for weeds! I followed him up the steps and into the house,
where we all sat back and had iced tea and a good visit.
After a little while, my parents became involved with the children and
I found a quiet moment. I went back out to the yard and began to gather
the discarded weeds. I carried them down to the side of the road near our
driveway.
There, near the fence row, I dug in the soft ground, still damp from
the recent rains. One by one I held the plants while I smoothed the dirt
around their roots. I was giving them a sprinkling of water from a bucket
when I noticed that my father had walked up behind me.
He looked over the replanted weeds with a funny expression on his
face. I wondered what he was thinking. Then, my normally reserved father
put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a hug. I saw the brightness in
his eyes as he smiled at me.
Nothing more was ever said about preserving the weeds, but that lesson
in compassion, on a summer day, has stayed with me a lifetime. Whether
it''s the runt of a litter of puppies, a newly hatched chick or a struggling
plant, I have a reason for doing all I can to help it along. I now see
things from a different point of view.
And I still hear my father''s words...
"They just want to live, too."
-- Pamela Jenkins <bunnies-n-birds @ juno.com>
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LIFE WAS GOOD
by Alison Peters
Pedaling furiously, I raced home and wheeled up onto our lawn and
dropped my bike.
While the tires continued spinning, I made a beeline for the front
door of the home I''d lived in for all of my thirteen years. I bounded up
the steps and reached for the handle of the screen door with one hand,
while clutching my precious bundle against my chest with the other.
I stopped -- suddenly more worried than excited. I whispered a
mini-prayer, "Please, God!"
I headed straight to the kitchen, where I knew I''d find my parents at
this time of day. They were at the kitchen table. My mom was serving my
dad his coffee. They both looked up, and, since they shared the instinct
other parents with eight children have, knew that something different was
going on.
I was surprised to find myself feeling so very nervous. Normally, an
audience with my parents created no such anxiety. With shaking hands,
under the curious gaze of my parents, I unbundled my bundle.
"Wait ''til you see this!" I announced, making sure I had their full
attention. I revealed my latest -- an adorable baby squirrel.
My surprise bundle, however, realized he was now free and burst from
the dishtowel I was holding him with. He bounded off my shoulder and
scrambled onto the black and white checked countertop. To my absolute
horror, he sent a saucer sailing, where it crashed to the floor.
Although my parents were accustomed to my regular presentations of
varied, but more domesticated beasts, this was my first baby squirrel
offering. A neighbor had been caring for him for a week, since his mother
had been hit by a car, and, much to my delight, she had offered him to me,
knowing I was the animal-brain of the neighborhood. The stipulation, of
course, was that my parents give their approval.
My sole purpose was to convince my parents that I should be allowed to
keep him. In view of his carefully timed performance, he was not helping.
In light of these particular circumstances, the crashing and clattering
seemed to last about five minutes, and was very nearly deafening.
Easily detecting a plummeting of my high hopes, I reached for the
little squirrel, who happily sprinted up my arm and surveyed the three of
us from the vantage point of my shoulder, his bright black eyes shining.
It took me a second or two to realize my parents were laughing.
"He is certainly spunky," my mother noted.
I took the few steps to the table where they were seated and properly
introduced them to my latest awesome find. It took a mere minute or two
for the little squirrel to win them over.
Spunky was home.
Life was good.
-- Alison Peters <sweetpetes3 @ cs.com>
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SISTERHOOD AT ITS BEST
by Ron Gold
I fall in love with 5 different ladies each week -- one each weekday,
one just as beautiful as the next.
And they don''t even realize it.
When Oprah''s TV show is pre-empted, I look for twin sisters the next
day. It maintains my average.
As a red-blooded American girl watcher, I''d rather smile at the
beautiful mature ladies in Oprah Winfrey''s audience in Chicago, than ogle
those younger girls in the Miss America contest.
Why do I look forward to my daily Oprah adventure?
Because I enjoy Midwestern womanhood at its best. Unlike Miss
America, there''s no emphasis on physical dimensions on Oprah.
Like Miss America contestants, each audience member is well coifed and
carefully made up. They''ve visited their beauty salons and painstakingly
applied their cosmetics.
Miss America is strictly a competition while Oprah is a sorority
meeting. And each female audience member is part of the sisterhood.
In Atlantic City, the female contestants recite answers to
often-innocuous questions. The Chicago ladies ask smart questions and
voice intelligent answers. They often rise to their feet, cheer and
demonstrate loving empathy, especially at beauty and interior-decorating
makeover shows.
Miss America contestants are there to promote themselves. Oprah''s
soccer moms are there to reap the advice that Oprah and her guests
graciously offer.
My lovely ladies ask questions and talk back to Oprah''s experts.
The dress codes are wildly different for both entertainments. Drafty
swimsuits and sophisticated evening gowns shimmer in the pageant. The TV
show is a rainbow of pastel and deep toned suits, dresses, skirts and
blouses in varied sizes.
Miss America contestants know children only as siblings, cousins and
former baby-sitting assignments. Oprah''s ladies are experienced with
two-o''clock feedings, diapering, staying up with the croup, playing tooth
fairy and mentoring homework. For the most part, they understand the
differences between life''s wants and needs, day care and mom''s care.
They''ve already experienced life and recently rearranged car pools so they
can sit in a TV studio and continue their on-the-job life training.
In Atlantic City the emphasis is on competition. Not in Harpo
Studios, where it''s sisterhood at its best.
-- Ron Gold <outthinkresumes @ aol.com>
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FAREWELL SUMMER
by Bob Perks
I don''t understand why you have to go.
Was it something I said? Was it something I did?
I know we''ve been through this before. But it''s different now.
Back then, I was young and foolish. I''ll admit I took you for
granted. You came into my life and I never really appreciated you. When
you left each time, I hardly noticed you were gone. Maybe because I knew
you''d be back. You always came back.
But now, more than ever before in my life, I need you. The last time
you left me, I thought you''d be gone for good. I longed for the warmth of
your touch. My world seemed dark and dreary.
These past few months together have been glorious. I awakened each
day eager to see you again. Never once did you let me down.
Our time together along the shore was absolutely perfect. Our days
together basking in the sunlight will serve me well as precious memories in
the cold empty days ahead.
The flowers you gave me were beautiful, matched only by colors of the
blue skies, rainbows and sunsets.
I would follow you if I could. But you know I must stay behind once more.
Please promise you''ll come back. But before you go, give me one last,
magnificent day, then lay upon my lips a final kiss, so warm and tender. I
will remember you, my friend, as I close my eyes and face the cold winter
days ahead.
You will be tucked away in a safe place in my soul, with the memories
of the red rose, the sunflower, lilies of the valley, peonies, and yes even
the dandelion.
I will remember the sounds of laughter in the park, the fireworks
after dark and the sweet smells of church picnics, ethnic festivals and
fresh mowed lawns.
I am getting too old to face the cold.
But if God should grant me more time with you, you''ll find me here
waiting with open arms for your return, once more.
Farewell... Summer!
-- Bob Perks <Bob @ BobPerks.com>
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SUNLIGHT WRAPPED IN FUR
by Kathy Anne Harris
Tawny, my female Golden, has had a particular stuffed bear since she
was a pup. She still has it. It is like her security blanket. If it has
been left in another room, and the door is closed, she will stand patiently
in front of that door, wagging her tail, until I let her in to get her
bear. She licks it, hugs it, sleeps with her head on it or with it between
her front paws. She brings it with her when she goes from room to room and
when we go to bed. She panics if she cannot find it. I give the bear a
bath in the washing machine but it never quite gets clean. It looks like a
generic Winnie the Pooh.
When she was still a pup, I started her in dog training classes. She
absolutely loved going and thoroughly enjoyed strutting her stuff for
others. I keep her training collar and leash on the bookshelf by the door.
She often walks over to them and wags her tail.
She is unlike any fur kin I have ever had. She saw me through the
darkest year of my life -- the year I was diagnosed with cancer, had
surgery, and went through my chemo treatments. She was the sunlight in my
darkness, the golden light that brightened my soul. And I wrote this for
her...
A UNICORN IN GOLDEN FUR
If there were a Unicorn in the Dog World, the Golden Retriever would
be that magical being!
I wonder if God, in his wisdom, did not transform that amazing
creature''s life force -- its soul -- into a Golden for safe keeping. For
surely, no decent man or woman, would hunt down a Golden. Nor would they
imprison one. And in this manner, the Golden does not need to relegate
itself to the darkest, and thickest of the forested realms, in obscurity,
to be regarded, now, as nothing more than myth, legend, and lore.
And as it once was, it is still. Only the purest of hearts -- those
open to the mystical and magical nature of creation -- are able to discern
the cast of the unicorn. As the unicorn didst glow, a radiance that shown
from within and burst outward round the animal in an aura; a torch in the
midnight shadows of the magical realms of yore.
So does the Golden glow. For it is sunlight wrapped in fur. And in
its presence there is a healing and restoring of the human soul -- a
lifting of our spirit from the mundane to something higher, more celestial.
A Golden''s presence is a balm, an elixir. A lifetime filled with
laughter, with a playful presence, and love given uncon***ionally from a
heart of purity, loyalty, and innocence. A heart that is finely attuned to
the human heart, the human mind, the human spirit. A heart that will give
back more than any human could ever repay; so bounteous is the Golden''s
elan vital.
If you have had the privilege to find yourself in the keep of a
Golden, you have found your unicorn.
She is an exceptionally giving spirit. She loves to love me. And I
savor the time I have with her from day to day.
She is, I believe, my soulmate.
-- Kathy Anne Harris <bluebelliedlizard @ earthlink.net>
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THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Ian, 3, went to a "beach" birthday party. There were wading pools and
sprinklers for the children to play in and they all had a wonderful time.
After the party, Lisa asked Ian to tell her about it. With great
excitement he described the festivities. Lisa commented, "I bet you had a
blast!" Ian replied, "No, Grandma, we had cake." -- Lisa Parker of
Savannah, Georgia
Lucas, 7, came to his parents asking if they had a "bomb shelter."
His mother asked him why he was concerned about having a bomb shelter.
Lucas proceeded to tell her that he had heard on TV that in 33 billion
years an asteroid was going to hit the earth. His mother reassured him,
noting that in 33 billion years, they would be in heaven. To which Lucas
proclaimed: "YOU will be, but I''LL have KIDS!" -- Melanie (mother of
Lucas) of Canada
Blake, 3, was singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" during the 7th
inning stretch of a recent Cubs game. When he got to the verse that should
go, "Buy me some peanuts and Crackerjack," he sang, "Buy me some crackers
and Apple Jacks!" -- Michele Rathke (grandmother of Blake) of Albion,
Indiana
Growing up in the country, Sandra and her cousin would often take
their younger siblings for a walk. Little Bill would often ask them, "Are
we going to take the ''cort shut'' (short cut)?" -- Sandra Halsey of
Charleston, South Carolina
Laura''s cousins came to Arkansas from Wichita, Kansas and they brought
a 9-year-old friend who had only known city life. They took the cousins
and the friend to the creek, about 15 miles out of town on a really long
dirt road to swim and get some water from the natural spring. Before the
friend got in the water to swim, he asked, "Does this have chlorine in it?"
-- Laura Pretty of Fayetteville, Arkansas
Brian took Emily, 4, fishing, then to the park where they watched
horses galloping around and then to McDonalds for lunch. When they got
home Brian took her outside to play in the yard. When they finally came
in, Emily''s mother said, "Emily, I washed your clothes while you were gone,
please put your laundry away." Emily gave a big sigh and said, "I can''t
Mommy; I am having a bad day!" Her mother, quite shocked, said, "How can
you be having a bad day after all the wonderful things you have done?"
Emily looked up at her and matter-of-factly said, "I started having a bad
day when you said LAUNDRY!" -- Christal Bricker (friend of Emily''s mother)
of Colorado Springs, Colorado
When Margaret was 8, her parents gave her a flannel nightgown for
Christmas. It wasn''t just any flannel gown; it was red and white striped
and it had a reindeer on the front yoke. Margaret''s name was embroidered
on the brim of the reindeer''s hat. When she opened the box, she was so
overcome with excitement that she exclaimed, "Look, it''s red and
stripe-wiped." Her family never let her forget that moment. -- Margaret
(now 48 years young) from Garner, North Carolina
Sisters Mary and Donna were playing in the park when their mom
suggested a ride on the merry-go-round. Donna looked disappointed and
asked, "Donna go ''round, too?" -- Mary Garrett of St. Peters, Missouri
Jessica: Hey, Mom, see that guy over there?
Mom: Yes, Jon the pastor?
Jessica: Yeah, well, he is the church''s boss!
Mom: Really?
Jessica: Yeah, but don''t worry. God is his boss!
-- Jamie Norman (mother of Jessica) of Weatherford, Texas
When Devon was five, he and his best friend, Jaclyn, were
inseparable. Both their fathers played music and the children were
musically inclined. They had a basement full of band instruments and they
loved to perform for Devon''s mom. One day, Devon and Jaclyn came running
upstairs to perform. They started singing, "I just died in your barn
tonight!" (The correct title is "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" by the
Cutting Crew.) -- Sherri Williams (Devon''s mom) of Cynthiana, Kentucky
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WINDMILL VIEW
by Diane Dean White
My Grandmother was born in 1904 and lived to be 91.
I was amazed at the education I received just from listening to her
share special accounts of her life. They often became treasured bedtime
stories.
My grandmother''s name was Irene, and Pearl was one of her older sisters.
Irene lived on a farm with her parents and siblings. There was a tall
windmill that stood next to the machine shed near the barn. As a little
girl, Irene watched the men climb to the top of the windmill to oil the
wheel.
One fall morning, Irene waved goodbye to her parents who had hitched
old Jip to the buggy to attend an auction sale a few miles away. Her
sister Pearl was in charge of the girls and decided to teach Irene how to
tie her shoelaces that morning outside on the leaves. After a bit of
practice, Irene decided to tie a ribbon on her rag doll. She put the doll
on the bench in front of the machine shed and worked at tying the ribbon
around the doll''s neck.
After accomplishing that task she looked around for something else to
do. She spotted the old windmill and remembered watching the men climb it.
That seemed like something she would enjoy doing. So with her rag doll
under her arm she started to climb the small galvanized rungs which formed
the ladder to reach the top. He legs were short and the rungs were far
apart but she managed to get to the top. She placed her doll on the
platform and somehow pulled herself up next to her. She could see for
miles and pointed out neighboring farms and the many fall colors to her
doll.
Uncle John, and his wife Bertha, lived across the road. When Bertha
saw Irene climbing she called her husband in from the barn to quickly
rescue her. However, after talking it over, they decided that might
frighten her to see Uncle John coming. So, they telephoned across the road
and told Pearl where Irene was and how to get her down.
Pearl came out to the windmill alone and told Irene to stay seated
where she was. She said she would climb up and help her come down. The
first thing she did when she reached the top was throw the rag doll down to
the ground. Pearl was able to get Irene off the platform and her feet on
the rung and slowly they came down together.
When the girls were safely on the ground, Uncle John was there to
praise Pearl for bringing Irene down safely. Irene didn''t recall what he
said to her, but she was afraid it wasn''t good. And she got a scolding for
disobeying and climbing the old windmill.
Irene said the good thing that came from climbing was being able to
see the countryside and the colorful leaves while sitting on the top of the
windmill, and not falling. And she also learned to tie a bow that day!
Years later, when we visited Grandma, we occasionally drove out to the
country just to see the farmhouse where she was born and lived as a child.
Quite often it was autumn, and the leaves were colorful and the apple
trees continued to produce, so we''d pick a few and Grandma would tell us
about living on the farm.
But nobody would climb that windmill! It was still standing, but we
just enjoyed looking at it, knowing it was part of Grandma''s past.
-- Diane Dean White <Thelamb212 @ aol.com>
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LOVE HIM TO BITS
by Kathy Anne Harris
Clancy PoohBear Harris is the first male Golden Retriever to come into
my life.
He is my clown companion and he has me smiling every day. I believe
he loves to make me laugh.
Clancy has a nickname, Mr. Floppy. He''s tall and lanky, and a bit
clumsy. He will trundle through a fully decorated Christmas tree with nary
a blink. He''s walked into French doors, bounced back then stood there with
a goofy look on his face as if saying, "Why isn''t the door open?"
He loves me to pieces and is very jealous. If I sneak a loving moment
with one of the other fur kin, even when he cannot see or hear me, he
knows! And he''s quickly up and on his way to investigate and nose his way
in for some hugs and kisses. He has great love radar.
When I first get home from work and I go to the French door to go out
back and tend to my dog doodies, Clancy pushes past me into the house,
spins around and nips me on the rump, or he grabs a mouth full of my blouse
or arm. I guess he doesn''t want me to go outside.
He will often circle me, then lean all his weight into me. He''s just
the right height to give him back and head scratches when he''s propped up
against me. When it is time to hit the hay, Clancy is a snuggler. Even in
the hot weather, he wants to be next to me.
Anytime he cannot see me, Clancy becomes alarmed. He lifts his head,
sniffs, then runs around until he finds me. Playing hide and seek with him
can be fun.
He''s also a "talker" and doesn''t pass up a chance to let me know if
something is on his mind. He has barks, howls, groans, and mumbles of
expression -- some quite humorous to hear. He also uses his paw-hands to
communicate. When we are going somewhere in the car he sits in the
passenger seat next to me. When I am driving he will put his paw-hand on
me if he feels I am not driving with care. I can usually predict when he
will do this. He''ll be looking out the window, we''ll round a turn, and out
comes his paw. He keeps it on me until he feels all is clear. Every now
and then he''ll glance over at me when he has his paw on me, lift an eyebrow
and give me a look. It is akin to the look one person will give another
when they nod and purse their lips -- that kind of, "I told you so!" look.
He keeps me in check. I''m smiling, but I''m in check.
When he''s playing and really gets excited, he will straighten his arms
out in front of him and bounce around, back and forth. If he has a toy
he''s playing with, he tosses the toy all over the place, pounces on it,
throws it haphazardly and wherever it lands he''s on it, stiff arms and all.
He''s a goof and I wouldn''t have it any other way. He is kind and
loving and he fills my heart with smiles.
He''s one fine gent and I love him to bits.
-- Kathy Anne Harris <bluebelliedlizard @ earthlink.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Mariah, 8, was spinning a tall-tale about her homework. Her mother
said, "Now, Mariah, you know where you will go for lying..." Paul, 5,
Mariah''s little brother chimed in, "Yeah, Congress!" -- Cindy Pugh
(grandmother of Mariah and Paul) of Ossian, Indiana
Here''s another Paul story. He walked off the bus and into the house
with only one shoe on. When his grandmother asked where the other shoe
was, he replied, "Oh, Nonnia, it must be in the LOST AND FOUNTAIN at
school!"
Lisa was putting her daughter Cassidy, 3, into the car to take her to
pre-school. Cassidy had a bagel and bottled water, and she handed them to
her mother when she crawled into the car seat. Then she said, "When I get
locked up can you give me my bread and water?" -- Lisa Howard of
Alexandria, Virginia
Natalie, 5, told her grandmother about a boy who was dropped off by
the school bus driver and his mommy wasn''t there to meet him. "It was OK,"
Natalie continued, "the brown man that sells boxes helped him (the UPS
man)!" -- Joyce Hosler (grandmother of Natalie) of Fort Wayne, Indiana
A kindergarten teacher took her record player to school along with one
of the old records. When she started to put the record on, one child said,
"That''s the largest CD I''ve ever seen!" -- Jean Felfe (aunt of the
teacher) of Spicewood, Texas
Bailey, 2, held out his sippy cup and said, "More milk, please." His
mother, who has been encouraging him to learn good manners, got him another
cup of milk. Then, as she handed him the milk, she asked, "What do you
say?" Bailey looked at her with a worried look. After thinking for a
moment, he said, "Moo?" -- Amy Garnsay (aunt of Bailey) of Eaton Rapids,
Michigan
Julie and her two boys, Sydney, 4, and Benjamin, 3, were shopping for
birthday presents at the local mall. While in a card shop, the boys were
getting bored and asked to sit on the floor. Julie told them not to touch
anything. Sydney was content to sit still, but Ben couldn''t. He was
looking at a few small figurines and after he touchd one he said, "Ouch!
It touched me!" The store clerk could not contain her laughter! -- Julie
Adelman of Lake Mary, Florida
Timmy''s mother made him a sandwich to take to a friend''s house while
his father was doing yard work there. His mother noticed that it was all
gone. "Did you finish all of it?" she asked. Timmy looked bewildred and
replied, "I had to eat it all. I could not find a trash can!" -- Lynda
Redus (mother of Timmy) of San Antonio, Texas
Haley, 2, spent some time with her grandmother. When she got home,
her mother noticed there was black under her fingernails. "What did you
eat at Grandma''s?" her mother asked. "Wing bells," Haley replied. Her
mother had no idea what Haley meant. It was only later, when her husband
translated, that Haley''s mother learned Haley had enjoyed "Ding Dongs!" --
Linda Diehl (grandmother of Haley) of Avilla, Indiana
Kolton, 7, was walking down a trail to the ocean to build sandcastles
with his grandmother. Kolton asked, "How old are you, Grandma?" She
replied, "I''m 59." Kolton thought for a minute and then said, "Do you
realize that in 21 years you will be 80!" His grandmother laughed and
said, "No, I hadn''t thought of that. And you know what? You''ll be 28."
Kolton replied, "I hope we''re still camping together then, Grandma!" --
Susan Titus Osborn (grandmother of Kolton) of Fullerton, California
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE RIGHT SIDE
by Jaye Lewis
It was an innocent mistake. But sometimes innocence makes terrible
mistakes. I was 17 years old and it was my first year on the farm.
I saw a mother quail pulling a string behind her, parting the thick,
green grass. I was charmed by her adorable headdress -- a little
decoration, really, that bobbed as she walked along.
I watched from the kitchen window, as she proceeded along in a
straight, determined line. Was the string attached to her leg? Or did she
pull it along in her beak. The string stretched back, a good six feet
behind her. I just had to find out what was going on.
I slipped out the back door, and I tip-toed from tree to tree, coming
ever closer, for a better view. I could see, at one point, that she
noticed me, ****ing her head, just barely. That should have been warning
enough to make me turn back. But my curiosity became unbearable, as I
sought to expose her secret.
I inched closer and closer, until I was right upon her. Taking my
eyes off of the lady, I gazed straight down, right into the frightened eyes
of a covey of baby quail!
Stunned, I took a step back, and the babies began to scream! Each
scream was multiplied by fifteen tiny, scurrying, scattering babies. They
ran, flat out for the rhubarb patch! I figured I was in for a pecking from
Mamma quail, and I stood stark-still.
Then Mamma began this little dance. Suddenly her wing became "broken"
as she fluttered and dragged it, ever approaching closer to my feet. She
came right up to me, and she flopped like a wounded chicken, enticing me to
take her, and not her babies.
"I''m so sorry, little mother," I cried, backing away. She followed me
all the way up to the back door as I slipped back inside, and only then,
did she go tearing over to the rhubarb patch. With shrieking cries and
flapping wings, she searched and called to her babies.
My heart broke, as I watched her, helplessly wondering if she would
ever find all of them. I never knew.
How awful I felt. I knew that I had blundered onto something precious
and sacred. A cruel unknowing had caused the real terror of innocent,
living beings. It has haunted me for forty years, and it still bothers me.
It occurred to me, recently, that there are many such blunders, in
this life, that hurt others. That first rush to tell someone, how awful
their new haircut looks. That irresistible urge we have to explain to
someone with medical problems, how "Aunt Sadie died." And what about the
things that we are not certain of? What about the times that we repeat the
gossip we hear, just to feel a part of the crowd?
How do we treat that new family at church? Do we grill them for
information, and then dump them once we know everything? Or do we speak to
them at all? And the new girl at work. Do we overcome our own discomfort
so that we can help her over those first terrible weeks, when she feels
new, and strange, and friendless? Or do we cling to those we know,
comforting ourselves with the notion that we belong, never thinking about
how uncomfortable it must feel to be a stranger?
How we treat others says a lot about who we are. What we say about
others, speaks volumes about what we are. The things we say about others,
says more about us, than it says about them.
I''ve been on the "inside" and I''ve been on the "outside," but the
happiest times of my life are when I have been on the "right" side -- the
side of sensitivity, acceptance, compassion and love.
-- Jaye Lewis <jlewis @ smyth.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .