That's A Joy

This particular story shows that often we are so caught up in ourselves that we don't even realize that people around us are still suffering. But this little girl opened this woman's eyes.

She was 6 years old the first time that I met her on the beach near 
my house. I always drive to this beach, which is about 2 to 3 miles away, when everything seems too much for me and the world seems to be falling apart around me. The girl was building a sandcastle or something similar, and happened to look 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 caring. "Oh, I don't know. I just like the feel of sand." she replied. That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. "That's a joy" the child said. "My mama says that sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird went gliding down the beach. "Goodbye joy, hello pain" I muttered to myself, 
and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance. 

"What's your name?" This girl just wouldn't give up. 

Ruth. I am Ruth Petersen" I said.

"I'm Wendy. .. I'm six."

"Hello Wendy", I replied.

She giggled: "You're funny."

In spite of all of my gloom, I laughed too, and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. 

"Come again, Mrs. P," she called. "Then we can have another happy day."

The following days and weeks were filled with stress and commitments, Boy Scouts, Parent-teacher meetings, and my sick mother. One morning the sun was shining as I took my hands out 
of the washing up water. "I need a sandpiper", I said to myself and picked up my jacket. The ever-changing smell of the sea awaited me. There was a cool breeze, but I carried on, trying to recapture the serenity and inner happiness that I needed. I had completely forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared. 

"Hello! Do you want to play?"she asked.

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

"I don't know. You choose!"

"What about charades?" I asked sarcastically.

She burst with laughter: "I don't know what that is!"

"Then how about we just walk", I suggested. I noticed how beautiful her little face was. "Where do you live?", I asked.

"Over there", she pointed towards a row of summer houses.

Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?"

"I don't go to school. Mum says that we're on vacation." She continued to chatter the entire time we strolled along the beach, 
but my mind was on other things. When I left to go home Wendy 
said that it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

3 weeks later I rushed to the beach in a state of panic. I was not in 
the mood to even greet Wendy. I thought that I could see her mother on the veranda and felt like telling her to keep her child at home. "Look if you don't mind", I said crossly when Wendy came over to 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 am I saying this to a little child?

"Oh", she said. "Then this is a bad day."

"Yes", I answered, "and so was yesterday and the day before and, oh go away!"

"Did it hurt?" she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, and with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of course it hurt!!!" I snapped, not understanding in my grief, and left.

About a month later, when I went to the beach, she wasn't there. I felt guilty, ashamed, and had to admit that I missed her. So I gathered up my courage and went up to the summer house after my walk, and knocked on the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair answered the door. "Hello", I said, "I'm Ruth Peterson. I missed your little girl today and was wondering where 
she is."

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you often. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was ever a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all, she's a delightful child", I said, suddenly realizing that I really meant it. "Where is she?"

"Wendy died last week, Mrs Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."

I was dumbstruck, and groped for a chair. The wind was knocked out of me.

"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come here, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. The last few weeks however, she declined rapidly..." her voice faltered. "She left something for you... if I can just find it. Would you wait a moment while I look?"

I nodded stupidly, and my mind raced searching for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with Mrs. P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon colors: a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully written:

"A sandpiper, to bring you joy"

Tears welled in my eyes, and my heart, that had almost forgotten how to love, burst open wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" I muttered over and over, and we wept together.

The special picture is now framed and hangs in my study. Six words, one for every year of her life that tell me of harmony, courage, and unconditional love. A gift from a girl with sea blue eyes and hair the colour of sand - who gave me the gift of love.

This story really makes you stop and think. The last words are so important - above all, because you don't know when they'll be said. Little Wendy's message helped this woman to find, and see, the happiness and joy in her life.

A Boy Named Teddy

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant.

It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper That he got from a grocery bag Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume.. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left, she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling* her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for* believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

                   Written by Elizabeth Silance Ballard as a work of fiction in 1974 for HomeLife Magazine.

The Rest Is Just Sand

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.The students laughed....

‘Now,’ said the professor as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—-your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—-and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.. The sand is everything else—-the small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ he continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and mow the lawn.

Take care of the golf balls first—-the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented. The professor smiled and said, ‘I’m glad you asked.’ The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

A Doll For My Sister

I was walking around in a Big Bazar store making shopping, when I saw a Cashier talking to a boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old....

The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll. Then the little boy turned to me and asked: ''Uncle, are you sure I don't have enough money?''

I counted his cash and replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy the doll, my dear.'' The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. 'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted somuch . I wanted to Gift her for her BIRTHDAY.

I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.' His eyes were so sad while saying this. 'My Sister has gone to be with God... Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister...''

My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.' Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take mypicture with her so my sister won't forget me.' 'I love my mommy and I wish she do esn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.' Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we checkagain, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''

'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'

Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'' 'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose. My mommy loves white roses.'

I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which 

mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a  young woman and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. 

The family had to decide whether  to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.. I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever...

The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.