The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
Epilogue. . . .There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.
"KEEP YOUR FORK....THE BEST IS YET TO COME"
A woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in
order", she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to
discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs
she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and
what outfit she wanted to be buried in. The woman also requested to
be buried with her favorite bible.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the
woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's
one more thing," she said excitedly . "What's that?" came the pastor's
reply.
"This is very important," the woman continued..."I want to be buried
with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the woman,
not knowing quite what to say...
"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the woman asked. "Well to be honest,
I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor. The woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always
remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared,
someone would inevitably lean over and say, "keep your fork." It was my
favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like
velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and
with substance.
So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my
hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you
to tell them: "Keep your fork" ....."The best is yet to come." The
pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman
goodbye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her
before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp on
life than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw
the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite bible and the fork in
her right hand. Over and over the pastor heard the question "What's
with the fork?" And over and over he smiled. During his message, the
pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly
before she died. He also told them about the fork and what it
symbolized to her. The pastor told the people that he could not stop
thinking about the fork and told them they probably wouldn't stop
thinking about it either. He was right. So the next time you reach for
your fork, let it remind you oh so gently, that the best is yet to
come...
My child, I've often heard you question: |
His left hind leg was crippled,
From birth, it was that way;
I'd said I'd never sell him,
Nor yet give him away.
A car drew up beside the pups,
And it was then I saw
A small boy's face light up with joy,
With eagerness and awe.
The father knelt beside the pups,
"Now take your pick, my son"
The boy pointed out at once
My little crippled one.
I was about to shake my head
Then watched the boy kneel
To hold the silken puppy close,
And so we closed the deal.
I'd seen the brace upon his leg,
But smiled to watch them go -
They'd set their paces, each to each -
And both be better....so.
Received with thanks from Jan Harris, Fredericksburg, VA USA
While he was still a young man,
the tide of popular opinion
turned against him.
His friends deserted him.
He was turned over to his enemies,
and went through the mockery of a trial.
He was nailed to a cross
between two thieves.
While he was dying,
his executioners gambled
for the only piece of property he had -
his coat.
When he was dead,
he was taken down
and laid in a borrowed grave.
Nineteen centuries have come and gone,
and today his is the central figure
for much of the human race.
All the armies that ever marched,
and all the navies that ever sailed,
and all the parliaments that ever sat,
and all the kings that ever reigned,
put together
have not affected the life of man
upon this earth as powerfully as this
"One Solitary Life."
If I really cared...
I'd think about what you are saying rather than what I am going to say next; I'd hear your feelings as well as your words.
I'd hear without deciding whether you're right or wrong; I'd ask you why, not just how and when and where.
I'd tell you my hopes, my dreams, my hurts; I'd tell you where I've blown it and when I've made it;
I'd talk with you and not to you; and I'd know when it's time to do neither.
I'd hang around until you let me in the gate. I would not unlock your secrets; I'd wait until you handed me the key.
and leave my solutions at home. The performance would end. We'd be ourselves. |
That night when shepherds heard that song
Of hosts angelic choiring near,
A deaf man stirred in slumber's spell -
And dreamed that he could hear.
A boy goes wrong, the same as he,
Who fed swine in the far country;
He seems beyond the utmost reach
Of hearts that pray, of lips that preach;
Give him another chance, and see
How beautiful his life may be.
Paul cast the young man, Mark, aside,
But Barnabas his metal tried,
Called out his courage, roused his vim,
And made a splendid man of him.
Then Paul, near death, longed for one glance
At Mark, who had another chance.
King David, one dark day, fell down,
Lost every jewel from his crown;
He had another chance and found
His kingly self redeemed, recrowned.
Now lonely souls and countless throngs
are lifted by his deathless songs!
Far fallen souls, arise! Advance!
Ours is the God of one more chance!