The Most Beautiful Flower

The Most Beautiful Flower

 

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read. Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree, Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, For the world was intent on dragging me down. And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play. He stood right before me with his head tilted down and said with great excitement, "Look what I found!" In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, With its petals all worn-not enough rain, or too little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose And declared with overacted surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

 

The weed before me was dying or dead. Not vibrant of colors, orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need." But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, He held it midair without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed for the very first time That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind. I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun As I thanked him for picking the very best one. "You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play, Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and wondered how he managed to see.

A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree, How did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight. Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see. The problem was not with the world; the problem was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, And appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose. And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his hand About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

Story of Marble Statue and Marble Tile

Story of Marble Statue and Marble Tile

 

There was this museum laid with beautiful marble tiles, with a huge marble statue displayed in the middle of the lobby. Many people came from all over the world just to admire this beautiful marble statue. One night, the marble tiles started talking to the marble statue.

 

Marble tile: "Marble statue, it's just not fair, it's just not fair! Why does everybody from all over the world come all the way here just to step on me while admiring you? Not fair!"

 

Marble statue: "My dear friend, marble tile. Do you still remember that we were actually from the same cave?"

 

Marble tile: "Yeah! That's why I feel it is even more unfair. We were born from the same cave and yet we receive different treatment now. Not fair!" he cried again.

 

Marble statue: "Then, do you still remember the day when the designer tried to work on you, but you resisted the tools?"

 

Marble tile: "Yes, of course I remember. I hate that guy! How could he use those tools on me, it hurt so badly?"

 

Marble statue: "That's right! He couldn't work on you at all as you resisted being worked on."

 

Marble tile: "So???"

 

Marble statue: "When he decided to give up on you and start working on me instead, I knew at once that I would be something different after his efforts. I did not resist his tools; instead I bore all the painful tools he used on me."

 

Marble tile: "Mmmmmm......."

 

Marble statue: "My friend, there is a price to everything in life. Since you decided to give up half way, you can't blame anybody who steps on you now." Isaiah 64:8; And yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand.