| |
Inspirational
Stories
Test
of Love
John Blanchard stood up from the bench straightened his Army
uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way
through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose
heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the
rose.
His interest
in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library.
Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not
with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in
the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul
and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered
the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time
and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City.
He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her
to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service
in World War II.
During
the next year and one month the two grew to know each other
through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile
heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph,
but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't
matter what she looked like.
When the
day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled
their first meeting - 7:00 p.m. at the Grand Central Station
in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by
the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00
he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved,
but whose face he'd never seen.
I'll let
Mr. Blanchard tell You what happened: A young woman was coming
toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back
in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers.
Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green
suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward
her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing
a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her
lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost
uncontrollably, I made one step closer to her, and then I
saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind
the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked
under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled
feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit
was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in
two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep
was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned
me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump
face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and
kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the
small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify
me to her.
This would
not be love, but it would be something precious, something
perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had
been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and
saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while
I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss
Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to
dinner?"
The woman's
face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what
this is about, son," she answered, "but the young
lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to
wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask
me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for
you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was
some kind of test!"
It's not
difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom.
The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the
unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye
wrote, "And I will tell you who you are."
-Author
Unknown
The Bad Guys
One day not too long ago, my five-year old son asked me who
the "bad guys" were. I responded that there really
were no "bad guys." The people who look like bad
guys, I said, were really just "good guys" who got
lost somewhere along the way.
I am not
sure he fully believed me, and it is not the only time we
have had that conversation. My hope is simply that in his
life, when he gets lost — as we all do — that
he will think less in terms of good and bad and more in terms
of awake and asleep. Good and bad involve judgement; awake
and asleep are somewhat less severe, more forgiving observations.
The practice of learning to see others in a more forgiving
light ultimately allows us to forgive ourselves, for on some
level, they are one and the same.
Recently,
I lit several candles on a table in my home. As I watched
the flames, the living light, I noticed how each was different,
dancing its unique dance. I also noticed that although unique,
the essence of each was the same. One light. On our life path,
we give ourselves a great gift when we see within one another,
one light. Therein lies the core of forgiveness, humility,
understanding and love.
By explaining
this lesson to my five-year old son, my true intention is
that I remember it myself, that I remember it in him, and
that I remember it in you.
-Wally
Arnold
|
|
|
Cosmos
of Happiness
