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Inspirational
Stories
Puppies
For Sale
A store owner was tacking a sign above his door that read
"Puppies For Sale." Signs like that have a way of
attracting small children and sure enough, a little boy appeared
under the store owner's sign. "How much are you going
to sell the puppies for?" he asked.
The store
owner replied, "Anywhere from $30 to $50." The little
boy reached in his pocket and pulled out some change. "I
have $2.37," he said. "Can I please look at them?"
The store
owner smiled and whistled and out of the kennel came Lady,
who ran down the aisle of his store followed by five teeny,
tiny balls of fur. One puppy was lagging considerably behind.
Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping
puppy and said, "What's wrong with that little dog?"
The store
owner explained that the veterinarian had examined the little
puppy and had discovered it didn't have a hip socket. It would
always limp. It would always be lame. The little boy became
excited. "That is the little puppy that I want to buy."
The store
owner said, "No, you don't want to buy that little dog.
If you really want him, I'll just give him to you."
The little
boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the store owner's
eyes, pointing his finger, and said, "I don't want you
to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much
as all the
other dogs and I'll pay full price. In fact, I'll give you
$2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I have him paid for."
The store
owner countered, "You really don't want to buy this little
dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play
with you like the other puppies."
To this,
the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to
reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big
metal brace. He looked up at the store owner and softly replied,
"Well, I don't run so well myself, and the little puppy
will need someone who understands!"
- Dan
Clark
Nobody
Knows the Difference
School volunteers don't get paid money, but sometimes we receive
special gifts. One morning, just before Christmas vacation,
I was selling tickets to our grade school's last evening performance
of The Nutcracker. The evening before had been a sell out.
People had lined the walls of the auditorium. Some had even
peeked in from outside to watch the show.
One
of my customers that day was a parent.
"I
think it's awful that I have to pay to see my own child perform,"
she
announced, yanking a wallet from her purse.
"The
school asks for a voluntary donation to help pay for scenery
and
costumes," I explained, "but no one has to pay.
You're welcome to all
the tickets you need."
"Oh,
I’ll pay," she grumbled. "Two adults and a
child."
She plunked
down a ten-dollar bill. I gave her the change and her
tickets. She stepped aside, fumbling with her purse. That's
when the
boy waiting behind her emptied a pocketful of change onto
the table.
"How
many tickets?" I asked.
"I
don't need tickets," he said. "I'm paying."
He pushed the coins
across the table.
"But
you'll need tickets to see the show tonight."
He shook
his head. "I’ve already seen the show."
All the
school children saw The Nutcracker with their classes. The
donation was for evening performances only. I pushed the pile
of
nickels, dimes and quarters back. "You don't have to
pay to see the
show with your class," I told him. "That's free."
"No,"
the boy insisted. "I saw it last night. My brother and
I arrived
late. We couldn't find anyone to buy tickets from, so we just
walked
in."
Lots
of people in that crowd had probably "just walked in".
The few
volunteers present couldn't check everyone for a ticket. Who
would
argue anyway? As I'd told the parent ahead of this boy, the
donation
was voluntary.
He pushed
his money back to me. "I'm paying now for last night,"
he
said.
I knew
this boy and his brother must have squeezed into the back
of
that crowd. And being late to boot, they couldn't possibly
have seen
the whole show. I hated to take his money. A pile of coins
in a kid's
hand is usually carefully saved allowance money. I wondered
what
he'd like to buy with it instead.
"If
the ticket table was closed when you got there, you couldn't
pay," I
reasoned.
"That's
what my brother said."
"Nobody
knows the difference," I assured him. "Don't worry
about it."
Thinking
the matter was settled, I started to push the coins back.
He
put his hand on mine.
"I
know the difference."
For one
silent moment our hands bridged the money. Then I spoke.
"Two tickets cost two dollars."
The pile
of coins added up to the correct amount. "Thank you,"
I said.
The boy
smiled, turned away, and was gone.
"Excuse
me."
I looked
up, surprised to see the woman who had bought her own
tickets moments earlier. She was still there, purse open,
change and
tickets in hand.
"Why
don't you keep this change," she said quietly. "The
scenery is
beautiful and those costumes couldn't have been cheap."
She handed
me a few dollar bills, closed her purse and left.
Little
did he know that he had given us both our first gift of the
Christmas season.
- Deborah
J. Rasmussen |
Cosmos
of Happiness
