I pray for Love,
Joy, Peace and Happiness in your life
Enjoy this tale of . . .
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 held his glass, milk
spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became
irritated with the mess.
'We must do something about father,' 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
together.
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 as he sat alone.
Still, the only words the couple had for him
were admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled the 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 with when I grow up.'
The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck
the parents so 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.
Neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped,
milk spilled, or tablecloth soiled.
Focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others and doing the very
best you can. Love, Peace, Joy and Happiness will find you.
I didn't let this message end with me . . .