The Traveler

 

A man and his dog were walking along a road.
The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly
occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him
had been dead for years.
He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along
one side of the road. It looked like fine marble.
At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch
that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate
in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the
gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got
closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where
are we?"

"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought
right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my friend," gesturing toward his
dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the
road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long
hill, he came to a dirt road which led
through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been
closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside,
leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any
water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there." The man pointed
to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the
dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through
the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The
traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some
to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward
the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.

"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is Heaven," was the answer.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said.
"The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly
gates?
Nope.
That's Hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like
that?"
"No. I can see how you might think so, but we're just
happy that they screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind."

 

 

 

 

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

            ......Oriah

 

 

 

 

THE WOODEN BOWL



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 onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, 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. Since
Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.
When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometime he had
a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for the grandfather were
harsh words or sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled his milk
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 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.
On a positive note, I've learned that, no matter what happens,
how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.
I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he handles
three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.I've learned that, regardless of your relationship
with your parents, you'll miss them when they will be gone from your life. I've learned that making a "living"
is not the same thing as making a "life."
I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's
mitt on both hands.You need to be able to throw something back.
I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you.
But, if you focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others, your
work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you.
I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open
heart, I usually make the right decision.
I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one.
I've learned that every day, you should reach out and touch
someone. People love that human touch -- holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.
I've learned that I still have a lot to learn.
I've learned that sometimes folks just need a little something to make the smile.
People may forget what you said . . . people may forget what
you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

 

 

 

 

The Builder

An elderly carpenter decided it was time to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the business and live a more leisurely life with his wife and enjoy his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but had some grandkids he didn't want to miss out on and needed to retire. He figured that him and his wife would get by okay.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor.

The carpenter said yes, but in time it was apparent that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship, cutting corners, and using inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end his career.

When the carpenter had finished his work and the contractor came to inspect the house, the contractor handed the builder the keys to the front door. "This is your new house", the contractor said,"my gift to you."

What a shock! What a shame! If only he had known he was building his retirement house he would have done it all so differently.

 

So is it with us.........we build our lives in a distracted way, reacting rather than acting. Willing to put up less than the best. At important points we do not give the job our best effort. Then with shock, we look at the situation we've created and find that we are now living in the house that we've built. Realizing that if we'd known, how we would have done it differently.

Think of youself as a carpenter. Think about your house. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Build wisely. It's the only life you will ever build. Some days you may read the plan wrong and have to re-build a wall. Be thankful for the lesson and the opportunity. Even if you live it for one day more, that day deserves to be lived graciously and with dignity, requiring your best effort ever.