Sometimes, some things are better left unsaid….

Sometimes, some things are better left unsaid….

One day a girl, Sara, who was fifteen years old, came home from school in a very bad mood. She’d had a fight with her best friend that day and it hadn’t turned out well at all.

“Sara!” her mom yelled. “What are you doing? You know to do your chores right when you get home! And you’re late!”

“Coming, Mom!” Sara yelled, getting up and stomping towards the kitchen. “What?” she snapped as her mother gave her a stern look, annoyed.

“You’d better straighten up your attitude, young lady,” her mom warned, “or you’ll be grounded.”

“Whatever.” Sara began to throw around the dishes in the sink, trying to make as much noise as she possibly could. A plate cracked and cut her hand. Sara cursed.

“Sara!” her mom exclaimed. “How dare you use that language! Go to your room!”

“No!” Sara yelled, throwing down the towel she was using to wipe the blood off her hand.

“Do you want to say ‘no’ one more time and see what happens?” her mom asked. She looked furious.

“Sure,” Sara said sarcastically. “No.”

“How dare you!” Her mother slapped her.

Sara shrank back, staring incredulously at her mom. She had never hit Sara before.

“I HATE YOU!” Sara screamed before running out of the house.

“Sara, get back here!” her mom yelled, running after her.

“Leave me alone!” Sara screamed, running across the street. “I HATE YOU!” she screamed again. She continued running until she heard the sound of screeching tires and a scream. She turned around,hoping that it wouldn’t be what she thought it would be….

People were crowding around Sara’s mother, who was laying in the middle of the street, looking broken, bloody.

“NOOOO!” Sara screamed, running over and pushing through everyone to kneel by her mom. “Oh no, oh no….”

Her mom wasn’t moving or breathing. She was gone. Sara tipped back her head and wailed to the sky, sobbing so hard it hurt.

She couldn’t believe the last words she had spoken to her mother were “I hate you”.

We all need to be careful how to react to our family, friends and loved ones when we get mad. Remember, when we tell people that we hate them, or any other rude thing, remember it might be the last thing you ever say to them.

Short Heartwarming Stories of Love

Generally speaking, today’s world is becoming a more and more depressing, discouraging, and sad place to live. People seem to be more selfish than they were years ago and the most important focus in a person’s life is the all-important “me.”

I thought that it would be a good idea to create a blog that focused on people GIVING things to other individuals rather than trying to GET things.  So, I decided to collect and share some short stories of love that I found from around the web, family, friends, and other people who contributed stories. It is my hope that these stories will inspire you, touch your heart, and in some small way, brighten your day.  Enjoy!

———————–

There was a song my grandparents loved called, “I’ll give you a daisy a day.” (By Jud Strunk)  It is about a husband and wife who enjoyed life, love and one another.  It is a beautiful tribute to romantic love.  In the song, the husband brings the wife a daisy a day – even after she passes on.

After my grandfather first heard this song he began to bring my grandmother daisies every day.  Years later, when he became ill, he brought some wild daisies from their farm and planted them in their yard.  He wanted her to always have daisies, even after he was gone.  They had a beautiful relationship.  They left nothing unsaid.

A friend of mine lost her best friend very recently.  It was sudden and tragic.  She was comforted by the fact that they had said everything to one another, they never held anything in.  They gave each other daisies every day.

Never leave love unspoken.  Be sure to give everyone you love a daisy a day.  You never know how important a little daisy, a little love, can be.

Note: The photograph on top of this blog is the actual daisies my grandfather brought from the farm.  They still grow in their yard.

————————————

It was a busy morning in a hospital, when an elderly gentleman, came in to have stitches removed from his thumb.

He stated that he was in a hurry and he had an appointment, 30 minutes from now. Then one of nurses came into the room, examined his wound and started to re-dress it.

While taking care of his wound, that nurse engaged him in a conversation with the old man. During the conversation, the nurse ask from the old man,  “Where do you have to be 30 minutes from now?”

The gentleman told her that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.

As they were talking, the nurse inquired about the health of his wife. He told that she was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.

After nurse finished dressing his wound, the nurse asked “if you are late, will she worry about it?”

He replied “no because she no longer knows who I am and she hasn’t recognized me for last five years.”

Surprised, the nurse asked him, “And you are still going every morning, even though she doesn’t know who you are?”

He smiled and patted nurse’s hand and said.

“She doesn’t know me, but I still know who she is.”

——————————

Today, my 8-year-old son hugged me and said, “You are the best mom in the whole entire world!” I smiled and sarcastically replied, “How do you know that? You haven’t met every mom in the whole entire world.” My son squeezed me tighter and said, “Yes I have. You are my world.”

——————————

One day an 11 year old girl asked her daddy, “what are you going to get me for my 15th birthday?”

Her father replied,” Please wait, there is much time left.”

When the girl was 14 years old, she fainted and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor came out and told her dad that she had a bad heart and that she was probably going to die.

When she was lying in the hospital bed, she said softly, “daddy… have they told you that I am going to die?” The father replied; “no, you are going to live” as he left her room weeping.

She asked, “how can you be so sure daddy?” He turned around from the door and said” because…I know.”

A short time later she turned 15. After she was released from the hospital and recovering she came home to find a letter on her bed which read…”My dearest daughter, if you are reading this letter it means that everything went well, just as I told you it would. A little while ago you asked me what I was going to give you for your 15th birthday. I didn’t know then, but my present to you was MY HEART.”

——————————–

10th GradeAs I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me. She was my so called ‘best friend’. I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine. But she didn’t notice me like that, and I knew it. After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before. I handed them to her.

She said ‘thanks’ and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

11th gradeThe phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broken her heart. She asked me to come over because she didn’t want to be alone, so I did. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go home.

She looked at me, said ‘thanks’ and gave me a kiss on the cheek…I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

Senior yearOne day she walked to my locker. “My date is sick” she said, ”he’s not going to go” and I didn’t have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as ‘best friends’.

So we did. That night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step. I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes.

Then she said- “I had the best time, thanks!” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

GraduationA day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine-but she didn’t notice me like that, and I knew it.

Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her.

Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said- ‘you’re my best friend, thanks’ and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

MarriageNow I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now and will drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn’t see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said ‘you came!’.

She said ‘thanks’ and kissed me on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

DeathYears passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my ‘best friend’.
At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years.

This is what it read:

‘I stare at him wishing he was mine, but he doesn’t notice me like that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don’t want to be just friends,
I love him but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me!

------------------------------------------

Today, my grandpa keeps an old, candid photo on his nightstand of my grandma and him laughing together at some party in the 1960’s. My grandma passed away from cancer in 1999 when I was 7. This evening when I was at his house, my grandpa caught me staring at the photo. He walked up, hugged me from behind and said, “Remember, just because something doesn’t last forever, doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth your while.”

——————————-

Today, I walked up to the door of my office (I’m a florist) at 7AM to find a uniformed Army soldier standing out front waiting. He was on his way to the airport to go to Afghanistan for a year. He said, “I usually bring home a bouquet of flowers for my wife every Friday and I don’t want to let her down when I’m away.” He then placed an order for 52 Friday afternoon deliveries of flowers to his wife’s office and asked me to schedule one for each week until he returns. I gave him a 50% discount because it made my day to see something so sweet.

———————————

I hope you enjoyed this blog and it brought a little sunshine to your life in some way. Find time each day to make your own story of love. Reach out and show how much you love and care for your “better half” whenever you can. I would love to create another blog of short love stories from collected from YOU! If you have a god story…share it!

Lessons From A Grandfather

I was recently reading a story from my friend at brosia.com which reminded me of the importance of treating our elderly loved ones as they age. Sometimes, it certainly does sometimes get annoying or irritating when an older parent or relative is with us and they have “accidents” or other things that may occur. The following story serves as a great reminder of how we should be more patient and and loving of our aged loved ones.

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.

The family ate together at the table. But, the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon and food rained onto the floor. When he grasped a glass, with his shaking hands milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

So, they set a small table in the corner. There Grandfather ate alone, while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since, Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather’s direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye. 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 in 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. That evening, the husband took Grandfather’s hand and gently led him back to the family table, and 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. The wise parent realizes that every day the building blocks are being laid for the child’s future. And Maybe, just maybe their own.

Remember deeds of kindness and goodness and be a “skilled builder.”

Just Stay

There is something special who has the care and concern for other people…even if the other person is a stranger. In my opinion, when an individual can demonstrate kindness and compassion to someone in need, that is a rare trait that few people seem to possess. 

———————–

A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside. “Your son is here,” she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient’s eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man’s limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man’s hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused.

Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital – the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients. Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her, “Who was that man?” he asked.

The nurse was startled, “He was your father,” she answered.

“No, he wasn’t,” the Marine replied. “I never saw him before in my life.”

“Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”

“I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn’t here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed. I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His son was killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this Gentleman’s Name? “

The nurse with tears in her eyes answered, “Mr. William Grey………”

The Kindness of A Stranger

It was a bitter, cold evening in northern Virginia many years ago. The old man’s beard was glazed by winter’s frost while he waited for a ride across the river. The wait seemed endless. His body became numb and stiff from the frigid north wind.

He heard the faint, steady rhythm of approaching hooves galloping along the frozen path. Anxiously, he watched as several horsemen rounded the bend. He let the first one pass by without an effort to get his attention. Then another passed by, and another. Finally, the last rider neared the spot where the old man sat like a snow statue. As this one drew near, the old man caught the rider’s eye and said, “Sir, would you mind giving an old man a ride to the other side? There doesn’t appear to be a passageway by foot.”

Reining his horse, the rider replied, “Sure thing. Hop aboard.” Seeing the old man was unable to lift his half-frozen body from the ground, the horseman dismounted and helped the old man onto the horse. The horseman took the old man not just across the river, but to his destination, which was just a few miles away.

As they neared the tiny but cozy cottage, the horseman’s curiosity caused him to inquire, “Sir, I notice that you let several other riders pass by without making an effort to secure a ride. Then I came up and you immediately asked me for a ride. I’m curious why, on such a bitter winter night, you would wait and ask the last rider. What if I had refused and left you there?”

The old man lowered himself slowly down from the horse, looked the rider straight in the eyes, and replied, “I’ve been around these here parts for some time. I reckon I know people pretty good.” The old-timer continued, “I looked into the eyes of the other riders and immediately saw there was no concern for my situation. It would have been useless even to ask them for a ride. But when I looked into your eyes, kindness and compassion were evident. I knew, then and there, that your gentle spirit would welcome the opportunity to give me assistance in my time of need.”

Those heartwarming comments touched the horseman deeply. “I’m most grateful for what you have said,” he told the old man. “May I never get too busy in my own affairs that I fail to respond to the needs of others with kindness and compassion.”

With that, Thomas Jefferson turned his horse around and made his way back to the White House.

Dealing With the Storms of Life

Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks?

The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to come. When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm. While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above it.

The eagle does not escape the storm. It simply uses the storm to lift it higher. It rises on the winds that bring the storm.

When the storms of life come upon us – and all of us will experience them – we can rise above them by setting our minds and our belief toward God. The storms do not have to overcome us. We can allow God’s power to lift us above them.

God enables us to ride the winds of the storm that bring sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment in our lives. We can soar above the storm.

Remember, it is not the burdens of life that weigh us down… it is how we handle them.

Did you had a Burned Biscuits

Here’s a nice story that I would like to share….

When I was a kid, my Mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my Mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed!

All my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my Mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don’t remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that ugly burned biscuit. He ate every bite of that thing…never made a face nor uttered a word about it!

When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my Mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits. And I’ll never forget what he said, “Honey, I love burned biscuits every now and then.”

Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, “Your Mom put in a hard day at work today and she’s real tired. And besides–a little burned biscuit never hurt anyone!”

As I’ve grown older, I’ve thought about that many times. Life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people.

I’m not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else. But what I’ve learned over the years is that learning to accept each other’s faults and choosing to celebrate each others differences is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.

And that’s my prayer for you today…that you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of God. Because in the end, He’s the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where a burnt biscuit isn’t a deal-breaker!

We could extend this to any relationship. In fact, understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!

“Don’t put the key to your happiness in someone else’s pocket–keep it in your own.”

So, please pass me a biscuit, and yes, the burned one will do just fine.

Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

“Life without God is like an non-sharpened pencil–it has no point”

Ice Cream: It’s Good for the Soul!

A little while ago, a mom took her children to a restaurant. Her six-year-old son asked if he could say grace. As they bowed their heads he said, “God is good. God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all! Amen.”

Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, a woman remarked, “That’s what’s wrong with this country. Kids today don’t even know how to pray. Asking God for ice-cream! Why, I never! “Hearing this, the boy burst into tears and asked, “Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?” As his mom held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table. He winked at the little boy and said, “I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.” “Really?” the boy asked. “Cross my heart.”

Then in a theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), “Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.”

Naturally, the mother bought her kids ice cream at the end of the meal. Her little boy stared at his for a moment and then did something will forever be remembered…he picked up his sundae and without a word walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, “Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes, and my soul is good already.

The Treasure of Time

Imagine there is a bank which credits your account each morning with $86,400.

It carries over no balance from day to day, allows you to keep no such balance, and every evening cancels whatever part of the amount you had failed to use during the day.

What would you do?

Draw out every cent, of course! Well, everyone has such a bank.

Its name is TIME.

Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds.

Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose.

It carries over no balance.

It allows no overdraft.

Each day it opens a new account for you.

Each night it burns the remains of the day.

If you fail to use the day’s deposits, the loss is yours.

There is no going back. There is no drawing against the “tomorrow.”

You must live in the present on today’s deposits.

Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness and success.

The clock is running. Make the most of Today.

To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who has failed a grade.

To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who has given birth to a pre-mature baby.

To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask an editor of a weekly newspaper.

To realize the value of ONE DAY, ask a daily wage laborer who has kids to feed.

To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.

To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who has missed the train.

To realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask a person who has avoided an accident.

To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who has won a silver medal in the Olympics.

 Treasure every moment that you have!
And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special,
special enough to spend your time …
remember that Time waits for No One …..

Yesterday is History …
Tomorrow a Mystery …
Today is a Gift.
That is why it is called the Present.

"Peepal baba" Swami Prem Parivartan

As promised by me here are some example who are putting best efforts for afforestation and plantation 

Know as "Peepal baba" Swami Prem Parivartan is on mission to plant Peepal Tree (Peepal is the name given to a certain species of fig that grows in parts of Asia. The botanical name for Peepal is Ficus religioso. It is also known as the Sacred Fig)
Apart from peepal he plant mango and other tree beneficial for environment and society.He is active in Haridwar and Rishikesh both Indian city

Here are some views from him

Grateful to all my friends who are supporting me in tree planting activities. Thank you so so so much. I am just a medium. I am only a Chanel. It is you who are doing the real work by supporting tree planting activities. All these trees will surely bless you and your family for supporting them

Please do not pollute the flowing waters of your rivers with Pooja stuff ! In fact it is more pious, auspicious if you can dig a pit and put it near an old tree. Your Pooja samagri turns into manure for the soil. By throwing it in the river you are simply adding bad karma to your account by polluting the rivers.

Tree planting is the best spiritual practice. It is the best religion. I will create temples and ashrams for trees before I leave the planet.

Don't be shy to plant trees in green belts. If encroachers are not shy to build shops, kiosks, houses,, wine shops and temples in green areas....why should we be shy of planting trees??

A Lion’s Tale: A Story About Courage and Bullies

There are many times throughout a person’s life that they may be bullied, abused or harassed by a person or group of people. Probably one of the most important things that can help a person deal with this kind of behavior is their mental and emotional mind-set.  A brave attitude is one of the best remedies for abuse and harassment.

In a small village there lived a boy called Leo. He was a small, slim kid, and he lived forever in fear because some boys from a neighboring village would harass poor Leo and try to have fun at his expense.

One day, a young wizard was passing by the village and saw Leo being made fun of. When the other boys left, the wizard went over to Leo and gave him a beautiful lion’s tail, along with a small tie that allowed Leo to hang the lion’s tail from his belt.

-“It’s a magic tail. When the person wearing it acts bravely, he or she will turn into a ferocious lion.”

Having seen the young wizard’s powers some days earlier during his act, Leo didn’t doubt his words, and from that time on he wore the lion’s tail hanging from his belt, hoping that the horrible kids would turn up so he could teach them a good lesson.

But when the boys came along, Leo was scared and he tried to run away. However, they soon caught him up and surrounded him. The usual jokes and pushing started, then Leo felt the lion’s tail hanging from his belt. Then, summoning up all his courage, Leo tensed his body, made two fists, and looked up, fixedly into the eyes of each of the boys, and with all the calmness and ferocity in the World, he promised that if they didn’t leave him alone at that instant one of them – even if it were only one – would regret it forever… today, tomorrow, and any other day. He kept looking them in the eye, with his hardest expression, ready to do what he had promised.

Leo felt goose bumps all over. This must be the sign that he was turning into a lion, because the looks on the boys’ faces were definitely changing. They all took a step back, looked at each other, and finally ran off. Leo wanted to take off after them and give them a good beating with his new body, but when he tried to move, he felt his legs were short and just normal, so he had to abandon the idea.

Not far off, the wizard observed, smiling. He ran over to Leo. Leo was very happy, though a bit disappointed that his new lion body had lasted only a short time, and he hadn’t managed to fight them.

-“You wouldn’t have been able to anyway,” the wizard told him,

“no one fights with lions, because simply from seeing them, and knowing how brave and ferocious they are, everyone runs away. Have you ever seen a lion fighting?”

It was true. Leo couldn’t remember ever having seen a lion fighting. Leo became filled with thought, looking at the lion’s tail. And he understood everything. There had been no magic, no transformation, no nothing. What happened was that a good friend had shown him that bullies and other cowardly animals never dare to confront a truly brave boy.

Author: Pedro Pablo Sacristán 

Sandpipers

This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy life, living, and each other.

“The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.” Life is so complicated. The hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important and what is only a momentary setback or crisis. Today, tomorrow, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment….even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

“Hello,” she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

“I’m building,” she said.

“I see that. What is it?” I asked, not really caring.

“Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of sand.”

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.

“That’s a joy,” the child said.

“It’s a what?” I asked.

“It’s a joy, my mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.” The bird went gliding down the beach.

“Good-bye joy,” I muttered to myself, “hello pain,” and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up.

“Robert,” I answered. “I’m Robert Peterson.”

“Mine’s Wendy….I’m six.”

“Hi, Wendy.”

She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

“Come again, Mr. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day.”

The days and weeks that followed belonged to others; a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother.

The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. “I need a sandpiper,” I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.

“Hello, Mr. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

“I don’t know, you say.”

“How about charades?” I asked sarcastically.

Her tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Then let’s just walk,” I said. Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?” I asked.

“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter.

“Where do you go to school?”

“I don’t go to school. Mommy says we’re on vacation.” She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things.

When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to the beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

“Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.”

She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. “Why?” she asked.

I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and thought, “My God, why was I saying this to a little child?”

“Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.”

“Yes,” I said, “and yesterday and the day before and – oh, go away!”

“Did it hurt?” she inquired

“Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself.

“When she died?” she asked.

“Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstand, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies.”

“Not at all-she’s a delightful child,” I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.

“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.”

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.

“She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called “happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly…” Her voice faltered.

“She left something for you…if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?” I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman.

She handed me a smeared envelope with “Mr. P” printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues – a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten how to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” I muttered over and over, and we wept together.

The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words – one for each year of her life – that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand – who taught me the gift of love.

Source: lifeofhope.com