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Inspirational
Stories
A
Legacy Of Love
As a young man, Al was a skilled artist, a potter. He had
a wife and two fine sons. One night, his oldest son developed
a severe stomachache. Thinking it was only some common intestinal
disorder, neither Al nor his wife took the condition very
seriously.
But the malady was actually acute appendicitis, and the boy
died suddenly that night.
Knowing
the death could have been prevented if he had only realized
the seriousness of the situation, Al's emotional health deteriorated
under the enormous burden of his guilt. To make matters worse
his wife left him a short time later, leaving him alone with
his six-year-old younger son. The hurt and pain of the two
situations were more than Al could handle, and he turned to
alcohol to help him cope. In time Al became an alcoholic.
As the
alcoholism progressed, Al began to lose everything he
possessed - his home,his land, his art objects, everything.
Eventually Al died alone in a San Francisco motel room.
When
I heard of Al's death, I reacted with the same disdain the
world shows for one who ends his life with nothing material
to show for it. "What a complete failure!" I thought.
"What a totally wasted life!"
As time
went by, I began to re-evaluate my earlier harsh judgment.
You see, I knew Al's now adult son, Ernie. He is one of the
kindest, most caring, most loving men I have ever known. I
watched Ernie with his children and saw the free flow of love
between them. I knew that kindness and caring had to come
from somewhere.
I hadn't
heard Ernie talk much about his father. It is so hard to defend
an alcoholic. One day I worked up my courage to ask him. "I'm
really puzzled by something," I said. "I know your
father was basically the only one to raise you. What on earth
did he do that you became such a special person?"
Ernie
sat quietly and reflected for a few moments. Then he said,
"From my earliest memories as a child until I left home
at 18, Al came into my room every night, gave me a kiss and
said, `I love you, son.'"
Tears
came to my eyes as I realized what a fool I had been to judge
Al as a failure. He had not left any material possessions
behind. But he had been a kind loving father, and he left
behind one of the finest, most giving men I have ever known.
- Bobbie
Gee
We
Never Told Him He Couldn't Do It
My son Joey was born with club feet. The doctors assured us
that with treatment he would be able to walk normally - but
would never run very well. The first three years of his life
were spent in surgery, casts and braces. By the time he was
eight, you wouldn't know he had a problem when you saw him
walk.
The children in our neighborhood ran around as most children
do during play, and Joey would jump right in and run and play,
too. We never told him that he probably wouldn't be able to
run as well as the other children. So he didn't know.
In seventh grade he decided to go out for the cross-country
team. Every day he trained with the team. He worked harder
and ran more than any of the others - perhaps he sensed that
the abilities that seemed to come naturally to so many others
did not come naturally to him. Although the entire team runs,
only the top seven runners have the potential to score points
for the school. We didn't tell him he probably would never
make the team, so he didn't know.
He continued to run four to five miles a day, every day -
even the day he had a 103-degree fever. I was worried, so
I went to look for him after school. I found him running all
alone. I asked him how he felt. "Okay," he said.
He had two more miles to go. The sweat ran down his face and
his eyes were glassy from his fever. Yet he looked straight
ahead and kept running. We never told him he couldn't run
four miles with a 103-degree fever. So he didn't know.
Two weeks later, the names of the team runners were called.
Joey was number six on the list. Joey had made the team. He
was in seventh grade - the other six team members were all
eighth-graders. We never told him he shouldn't expect to make
the team. We never told him he couldn't do it. We never told
him he couldn't do it...so he didn't know. He just did it.
- Kathy
Lamancusa |
Cosmos
of Happiness
