I think many times we are so busy with our own routines,
that we forget about the preciousness of others.
My aunt sent this story to me today and I was
reminded that in the process of going about my own life,
I might be hindering someone else's.
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 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. 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 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. 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.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The Wooden Bowl
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