One More Chance Story

This is a true sad short love story about my relationship with a girl name Joan. From where I stay to my secondary school to my favorite hangout spots. She knew everything about me. Yet, I knew nothing about her. - Zero Hikari


I'm a man of a few words. I really detest speaking and most of the time, I like to be alone. Betrayed by all my past relationships, asking me to love someone again seems so down right impossible. Yet, she persistently approached me. She knew I love to hang out in the library to read books about astronomy. Without fail, she appears everyday to bug me, and no matter where I hide in the library, she always seem to be able to catch me. She persistently tried to open a conversation, and I will just shun her off without fail. This continues for several months - till the day I get annoyed and decides to confront her.


On that fateful day, as I predicted, she approached me at the library again. I grab her and push her to the wall, "Listen girl. I won't hesitate to eat you up if you insist on offering your perfect body to me." I threatened. "Then do it." She retorted. Always wanted to be a chivalrous knight, I followed a strict code of chivalry and honor. She knew she hit my blind spot when I dare not make any advances on her. "Happy Birthday, Gary."


I stared at her with a bewildered look. I took a look at my watch. It's my birthday. She remembers it even when I don't remember. She smile at me and without a word, I was dragged all the way out of the library and into a white Toyota. "David, if you please, to East Coast Park." She said. "Understood." Replied the driver dressed in a simple T-shirt and a black pants. I was too engross in thinking who is this rich pretty girl, thinking about how she knew so much about me, that I pay no heed to the both of them throughout the trip. We arrived at the park and the driver left us there. "Here! Your birthday present! Look up!" She pulled me to a spot and point towards the sky. When I look up, I see the skies blanketed with stars I never thought could be seen in Singapore. "My name's Joan. And once again, Happy Birthday, Gary!" I don't know... That day, I open up to her and started talking to her.


We gradually grew closer and closer to each other as day passes. She's always there for me when I needed someone to talk to. She's a daddy's girl. Her dad gets her what she wants, though she never did ask for anything. I even met her parents during our first official 'date'. The first date was a utter failure, which even resulted in a police case. This unfortunate incident, I will not disclose it, but it's because of this incident, I began to understand what led to my actions that night when I carried an unconscious Joan home. Not because I wanted to protect the weak. It's like, I wanted to protect Joan, even if it cost my life. That's how I feel. Ever since then, every time I see her, my heart will start to beat faster. And I get nervous when I talk to her. I dismiss those feelings as just simply infatuation and told myself that I wont get cheated a second time. I'm really sick of being cheated by the girl I love over, and over again.


When I tried to distance myself away from her, I locked myself in my home. I do not want to go to school, I do not want to go out. I do not wish to see her. And well... I fell ill shortly afterwards. My mom and dad do not have the time to take care of me as they need to work, and being from a family with below average income, I don't rely on medication to recover from fever. I thought about it for a moment and decided to go to school per normal despite this fever going on. In the end, I got permission to leave the school early because the fever is really affecting me. I traveled all the way home and yeah, after closing the doors, I collapsed onto the ground.


A sweet smelling fragrant woke up, and I found myself resting on my bed with an ice-bag on my forehead. I struggled out of my room and I saw a familiar pair of pink shoes on the shoe rack. I proceed to the kitchen and to my disbelief, there she is, cooking. I caught her attention when I fall on my knees due to fatigue. "Hey! You're suppose to rest! You're having such a high fever so don't you dare move! I'll help you to the bed." That said, Joan supported me all the way back to the bed. "Hey... How did you get into my house..?" I questioned. She gave me a smirk and answered "David is so all-knowing. So i figured he knew how to pick-lock and I got him to teach me!".


"I've prepared some rice gruel for you. Don't worry about anything ok? Shut that mind of your's for God's sake if there is any! You're thinking too much at the wrong place, at the wrong time! I'm here to take care of you and you ain't going to chase me away you hear!?" She lectured. I simply nodded as she quickly goes back to the kitchen and back again with the food. "I'm feeding you, so open your mouth!" That said, I do as ordered. My heart feels pink. I feel like crying for trying to distant myself from her, yet she still came back for me and even took care of me when I'm sick. That day, I fallen in love again. With Joan.


We became a couple. Doing everything a couple does except for you-know-what. But this relationship hits a wall when her dad found out about it and strictly refuses Joan from dating me because of my social status - I'm a poor guy and she's a rich girl. Her dad's a traditional man, but her mom had already accepted me. He had already prepared a match-making session for her. When she knows of it, she quarreled with her dad. Her dad ain't letting up, and she is getting desperate. There are times when she ran away from home, there are times when she starts doing foolish things that bring harm to herself. It was a very depressing time in our relationship. During this time, I'm always with her. To calm her down, to be with her, and to protect her. Her dad finally decides to let up, and we thought this became our happy ending.


No. It was not. Two months after...


Her dad decided that the entire family should migrate to Switzerland. Upon hearing that, Joan cried. Day after day, she cried. Even when I'm with her and even when I tried comforting her, she cried on and on. I'm getting desperate once more. I approach her dad to try to talk things out. But to no avail. I spend my entire time to her during her remaining days left here in Singapore. I even slept at her house. I wanted her to stay with me, but I hesitated. When I woke up on the day of her flight, I saw a note left on the bed we slept. Written on it was the time of the flight and a farewell note to me.


One more time... I wanted to see her... I wanted to tell her to stay with me.


One more chance... I pray to whoever's up there watching this episode of my life.


I hurried to the airport but she was not there. I really wanted to tell her to stay with me. I will do anything and everything just to make her stay! I hurried to the customer service and they told me that their flight departed just an hour ago. I cried. I cried and cried. I soon fell into a depression and my grades in school took a heavy blow. She was my life. She was my everything. Yet, Joan refused me one last time to say what I want, and she refused me one last chance to say goodbye.


......


It's been a few years now. I have a girlfriend and we both love each other very much. Don't get me wrong. I just wanted to share this story on how a perfect relationship is ruined because of our social status. I have gotten over it. So please, people out there who is reading this... If you ever get into such a situation, don't hesitate. Hesitate like I do, and the sands of time will swallow up your Love.

Can I see my baby?

"Real treasure lies not in what can be seen, but what cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known. Love sometimes no need to say much." An excerpt for an awesome inspirational short love story about the love of a mother for her child.


"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. One day, his father said to the son, "You're 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 led the diplomatic service. One day, he asked his father, "Who gave me the ears? Who gave me so much? I could never do enough for him or her." "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 the mother had no outer ears. "Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," his father whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they"? 


REMEMBER... 


Real treasure lies not in what can be seen, but what cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known. Love sometimes no need to say much.


Read the following, it's meaningful If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the lost for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our family, an unwise investment indeed.

Dogs Go To Heaven Story

Do you love dogs? If you do then this story is perfect for you, A touching inspirational friendship story about why dogs do go to heaven. A must read for any dog lover!


An old man and his dog were walking down this dirt road with fences on both sides, they came to a gate in the fence and looked in, it was nice - grassy, woody areas, just what a 'huntin' dog and man would like, but, it had a sign saying 'no trespassing' so they walked on.


They came to a beautiful gate with a person in white robes standing there. "Welcome to Heaven"
he said. The old man was happy and started in with his dog following him.


The gatekeeper stopped him. "Dogs aren't allowed, I'm sorry but he can't come with you." "What
kind of Heaven won't allow dogs? If He can't come in, then I will stay out with him. He's been my faithful companion all his life, I can't desert him now. " "Suit yourself, but I have to warn you,
the Devil's on this road and he'll try to sweet talk you into his area, he'll promise you anything, but, the dog can't go there either. If you won't leave the dog, you'll spend Eternity on this road " So the old man and dog went on.


They came to a rundown fence with a gap in it, no gate, just a hole. Another old man was inside. "Scuse me Sir, my dog and I are getting mighty tired, mind if we come in and sit in the shade for awhile?" "Of course, there's some cold water under that tree over there. Make yourselves
comfortable " "You're sure my dog can come in? The man down the road said dogs weren't allowed anywhere." "Would you come in if you had to leave the dog?" " No sir, that's why I didn't go to Heaven, he said the dog couldn't come in. We'll be spending Eternity on this road, and a glass of cold water and some shade would be mighty fine right about now. But, I won't
come in if my buddy here can't come too, and that's final. "


The man smiled a big smile and said "Welcome to Heaven." "You mean this is Heaven? Dogs ARE allowed? How come that fellow down the road said they weren't?" "That was the Devil and he gets all the people who are willing to give up a life long companion for a comfortable place to stay.


They soon find out their mistake, but, then it's too late.


The dogs come here, the fickle people stay there. GOD wouldn't allow dogs to be banned from Heaven.


After all, HE created them to be man's companions in life, why would he
separate them in death?"

Earl Hammer
The Twillight Zone

The Hundredth Monkey Story

The Japanese monkey, Macaca fuscata, had  been observed in the wild for a period of over  30  years.

In 1952, on the island of Koshima, scientists  were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes  dropped in the sand. The monkeys liked the  taste of the raw sweet potatoes,but they  found  the dirt unpleasant.

An 18-month-old female named Imo found  she could solve the problem by washing the  potatoes in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers too.

This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists.

Between 1952 and 1958 all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable.

Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.

Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes -- the exact number is not known.

Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes.

Let's further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.

THEN IT HAPPENED!

By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them.

The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!

But notice.

A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea --

Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes.

Thus, when a certain critical number achieves an awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.

Although the exact number may vary, this Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the conscious property of these people.

But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone!

(from the book "The Hundredth Monkey" by Ken Keyes, jr. The book is not copyrighted and the material may be reproduced in whole or in part.

The Creation of a Mother Story

By the time the Lord made mothers, He was into the sixth day working overtime.  An Angel  appeared and said "Why are you spending so much  time on this one?" 


And the Lord answered and  said, "Have you read the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not elastic; have 200 movable parts, all replaceable; run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up; have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart; and have six pairs of hands."


The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No way!"  said the Angel.


The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem.  It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"  


"And that's on the standard model?" the Angel asked. 


The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head.  They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word." 


The Angel tried to stop the Lord  "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish." 


"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself  when she is sick AND can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower."  


The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord." 


"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."


"Will she be able to think?" asked the Angel.  


The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."


The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like You have a leak with this model. I told You that You were trying to put too much into  this one."


"That's not a leak." the Lord objected.  "That's a tear!" 


"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked.  


The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."   


The Angel was impressed.  "You are a genius, Lord.  You thought of everything for this one.  You even created the tear!"


The Lord looked at the Angel and smiled and said, "I'm afraid you are wrong again.  I created the woman, but she created the tear!"

The Story of Love and Time

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love.


Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment.


When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.


Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, 
"Richness, can you take me with you?"
Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you."


Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!"
"I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered.


Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you."
"Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!"


Happiness passed by Love, too, but she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her. 


Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you." It was an elder. So blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the elder where they were going. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way. Realizing how much was owed the elder, 


Love asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who Helped me?"
"It was Time," Knowledge answered.
"Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?"
Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is."

A Poem ON LOVE

Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love.

And he raised his head and looked upon the people,

and there fell a stillness upon them.

And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams

as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.

Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest

branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them

in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant:

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,

that you may become sacred bread for God`s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you

that you may know the secrets of your heart,

and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life`s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only

love`s peace and love`s pleasure,

Then it is better for you 

that you cover your nakedness and

pass out of love`s threshing floor,

Into the seasonless world where you

shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, 

and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself,

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed:

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say,

"God is in my heart," but rather,

"I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course

of love, for love, if it finds you worthy,

directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart

and give thanks for another day of loving:

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love`s ecstasy:

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in you heart

and a song of praise upon you lips.

Kahlil Gibran's book, published in 1923 is especially relevant and  helpful

for these times and is a wonderful gift for yourself or a loved one.

An excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

The Desiderata Poem

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,

even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter,

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble,

it's a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

by Max Ehrmann (1872-1945)

The Precious Wood Story

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."


Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."


Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."


After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter" ... and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.


At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.


When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down.


When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.


Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time. Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.


Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.


The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.

The Innocent Child Story

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and a four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together nightly at the dinner table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass often milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor. So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner at the dinner table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. Sometimes when the family glanced in grandfather's direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.


One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.


For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled. Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day that building blocks are being laid for the child's future.


Let us all be wise builders and role models. Take care of yourself, ... and those you love, ... today, and everyday!

The Empty Box Story

The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." 


The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."


The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness. 


Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.


In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.

Puppies for Everybody Story

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about Nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he Felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the Eyes of a little boy. 
Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies." 
"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money." 
The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. "I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?"
"Sure," said the farmer. 
And with that he let out a whistle,"Here,Dolly!" he called.
Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.


As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this One noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up....
"I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the runt. 
The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would."
With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself To a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need Someone who understands."


The world is full of people who need someone who understands.

"Please Hear What I Am Not Saying"

            

 Don't be fooled by me.

               Don't be fooled by the face I wear

               for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,

               masks that I'm afraid to take off,

               and none of them is me.

               Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,

               but don't be fooled,

               for God's sake don't be fooled.

               I give you the impression that I'm secure,

               that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well

                    as without,

               that confidence is my name and coolness my game,

               that the water's calm and I'm in command

               and that I need no one,

               but don't believe me.

               My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,

               ever-varying and ever-concealing.

               Beneath lies no complacence.

               Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.

               But I hide this.  I don't want anybody to know it.

               I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.

               That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,

               a nonchalant sophisticated facade,

               to help me pretend,

               to shield me from the glance that knows.

               But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,

               and I know it.

               That is, if it's followed by acceptance,

               if it's followed by love.

               It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,

               from my own self-built prison walls,

               from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.

               It's the only thing that will assure me

               of what I can't assure myself,

               that I'm really worth something.

               But I don't tell you this.  I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.

               I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,

               will not be followed by love.

               I'm afraid you'll think less of me,

               that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.

               I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing

               and that you will see this and reject me.

               So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,

               with a facade of assurance without

               and a trembling child within.

               So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,

               and my life becomes a front.

 I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.

               I tell you everything that's really nothing,

               and nothing of what's everything,

               of what's crying within me.

               So when I'm going through my routine

               do not be fooled by what I'm saying.

               Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,

               what I'd like to be able to say,

               what for survival I need to say,

               but what I can't say.

               I don't like hiding.

               I don't like playing superficial phony games.

               I want to stop playing them.

               I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me

               but you've got to help me.

               You've got to hold out your hand

               even when that's the last thing I seem to want.

               Only you can wipe away from my eyes

               the blank stare of the breathing dead.

               Only you can call me into aliveness.

               Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,

               each time you try to understand because you really care,

               my heart begins to grow wings--

               very small wings,

               very feeble wings,

               but wings!

               With your power to touch me into feeling

               you can breathe life into me.

               I want you to know that.

               I want you to know how important you are to me,

               how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--

               of the person that is me

               if you choose to.

               You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,

               you alone can remove my mask,

               you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,

               from my lonely prison,

               if you choose to.

               Please choose to.

               Do not pass me by.

               It will not be easy for you.

               A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.

               The nearer you approach to me

               the blinder I may strike back.

               It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man

               often I am irrational.

               I fight against the very thing I cry out for.

               But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls

               and in this lies my hope.

               Please try to beat down those walls

               with firm hands but with gentle hands

               for a child is very sensitive.

               Who am I, you may wonder?

               I am someone you know very well.

               For I am every man you meet

               and I am every woman you meet.

 Charles C. Finn

 September 1966