No Charge – Greatness of Mother’s love

The little boy suddenly came up to his mother and handed her a piece of paper when she was busy in preparing dinner. After his mom dried her hands on an apron, she read it:

• For cutting the grass. $5.00.
• For cleaning up my room this week. $1.00.
• For going to the store for you. $0.50.
• Baby-sitting my kid brother. 0.25.
• Taking out the garbage. $1.00.
• For getting a good report card. $5.00.
• For cleaning up, and raking the yard. $2.00.

Total owed: $14.75 

After reading, his mother looked at him standing there, expectantly. She picked up the pen, turned the paper over and wrote:

• Nine months I carried you while you were inside me: No Charge.
• The times I’ve sat with you, doctored and prayed for you: No Charge.
• For all the tears that you’ve caused through the years: No Charge.
• For all the nights that I couldn’t sleep because of the worries I knew were ahead: No Charge.
• For all the toys, food, clothes, that I gave to you through the years: there’s No Charge, son.
• And when you add it all up, the full cost of real love is, No Charge.

When the boy finished reading what his mother had written, there were great big old tears in his eyes. He looked straight at his mother and said, “Mom, I sure do love you.” And then he took the pen and in great big letters he wrote: “PAID IN FULL.”

 

Happy Anniversary – Power of Love Family

Happy anniversary my parents

Often, after she finished her solitary supper, she would just sit at the kitchen table in no hurry to enter the rest of the house which seemed even emptier at night. She would remember how everyone used to rush off after they had eaten – the boys up to their rooms and Peter to his favorite TV news programs.

Always so much to do and it seemed at times the boys would never grow up so she could have at least a little time to herself. Time for herself. Oh my, she had lots of time now, big blocks of time which filled so little space in her life. Especially now with Peter gone
Have you forgiven someone who deeply hurt you?

They had planned to travel a little after the boys all left, only Peter had been part of a different plan. She would give anything to have those frenzied days back again, but of course it was impossible. There was her volunteer work and the house work and the occasional baking for bake sales, but she missed the noise and she would have been happy to hear the angry voices in the midst of a fight. “Ma, he took my shirt without asking” and “Ma, he won’t let me study.” Ma, Ma, Ma. Sometimes she had wanted to throttle them, and now she wanted only to hug them and hold them close. She looked at babies on the street and felt sad, remembering when her arms were also full.

She was being especially silly tonight, and she had told Charlotte, one of her neighbors who had dropped by earlier, that today would have been her fortieth anniversary and they had talked of a special celebration this year. Foolish woman. After Charlotte left she had baked the chocolate blackout cake that had been a favorite of Peter’s, and there it sat in the refrigerator, awaiting its trip to the table.

Last year the boys had all called, and they had laughed and talked about the big forty and how they would all celebrate, only there was nothing to celebrate now. In fact, no one had called, but you really couldn’t observe a wedding anniversary with half a couple, could you? At least that’s what she had said to Charlotte, who kind of clicked her teeth at her and looked sad.

Feeling sorry for herself, was she? Come on, gal,

Like tonight. What was he barking at? He thought he owned the street, maybe even the world, but certainly anything on this block was his terrain. Tonight something was setting him off. So she walked over to the window to see what it was. There was only a car. “For heaven’s sake, Max,” she admonished, “we’re not the only people on the street.” Maybe Mrs. Boris, another neighbor, was having company. She had a big family and they came often to visit their parents.

But Max kept right on, and she thought she heard a noise at the door. Never fearful of the dark or the unknown, she went to the door, flung it open and said, “See, Max – there’s no one – oh my Lord!” They were standing there, the three of them, and they yelled, “Surprise, surprise” and suddenly there were hugs and kisses everywhere – her boys had come home.

“I didn’t think you’d remember and besides, with Dad . . .” Her voice trailed off in a blur of tears.

“Ma,” that was Josh’s voice, “you and Dad were always here for us, always in our hearts and our memories, and every anniversary will be our special day.” The others nodded, and now the tears were rolling down her face. “Hey, Ma, where’s the cake?” That was Chuck’s voice. “We want to party.” Suddenly she smiled and ran back to the kitchen, thanking the divine force that had directed her to bake her cake today and had given her three wonderful sons. she scolded herself, let’s get our act together and have a big slice of cake and maybe some treats for Max, who must have read her mind because he began to bark. Poor old Max. He had been Peter’s dog, waiting for him by the door each night till he came home. Some nights he still waited at the door which never opened, jumping up and barking at the slightest noise.

-Evelyn Marder Levin

 

I wish I can Raise All love for My child again

If I had my child to raise all over again,
I’d finger paint more, and point the finger less.
I’d do less correcting, and more connecting.
I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less, and know to care more.
I’d take more hikes and fly more kites.
I’d stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I’d run through more fields, and gaze at more stars.
I’d do more hugging and less tugging.
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I’d build self-esteem first, and the house later.
I’d teach less about the love of power, And more about the power of love.

Source: Diane Loomans

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other wings.

– Hodding Carter

 

Courage of the Mother and Foster-mother’s Heart

I sit on the rickety auditorium chair with the 
camcorder on my shoulder and I can feel the tears
well up in my eyes. My six-year-old daughter is on stage, calm,self-
possessed, centered and singing her heart out. I am
nervous, jittery and emotional. I trying not to cry.
"Listen, can you hear the sound, hearts beating
all the world around?" she sings.

The lovely face turned up to the light, little round face so dear and familiar and yet so unlike my own
thin features. Her eyes - eyes so different from mine -
look out into the audience with total trust. She knows they love her.
"Up in the valley, out on the plains, everywhere
around the world, heartbeats sound the same."

The face of her birth mother looks out at me
from the stage. The eyes of a young woman that once looked
into mine with trust now gaze into the audience. These features
my daughter inherited from her birth mother - eyes that
tilt up at the corners, and rosy, plump little cheeks that I
can't stop kissing.

"Black or white, red or tan, it's the heart of
the family of man...oh, oh beating away, oh, oh beating
away," she finishes. The audience goes wild. I do, too. Thunderous
applause fills the room. We rise as one to let Melanie know we
loved it. She smiles; she already knew.

Now I am crying. I feel so 
blessed to be her mom. She fills me with so much joy
that my heart actually hurts.
The heart of the family of man...the heart of
courage that shows us the path to take when we are lost...the
heart that makes strangers one with each other for a common
purpose: this is the heart Melanie's birth mother
showed to me.

From deep inside the safest part of herself,
Melanie heard her birth mother. This heart of courage because
of her commitment to unconditional love. She was a woman who
embraced the concept that she could give her child
something no one else ever could: a better life than she had.

Melanie's heart beats close to mine as I hold
her and tell her how great she performed. She wiggles in my
arms and looks up at me. "Why are you crying, Mommy?"
I answer her, "Because I am so happy for you and
you did so well, all by yourself!" 

I can feel myself
reach out and hold her with more than just my arms. I hold her
with love for not only myself, but for the beautiful and 
courageous woman who chose to give birth to my
daughter, and then chose again to give her to me. I carry the love
from both of us...the birth mother with the courage to
share, and the woman whose empty arms were filled with
love...for the heartbeat that we share is one.

Source: Patty Hansen

 

Toomy’s Essay

Soon Tommy’s parents, who had recently separated, would arrive for a conference on his failing schoolwork and disruptive behavior. Neither parent knew that I had summoned the other.
Tommy, an only child, had always been happy, cooperative, and an excellent student. How could I convince his father and mother that his recent failing grades represented a brokenhearted child’s reaction to his adored parents’ separation and pending divorce?
Tommy’s mother entered and took one of the chairs I had placed near my desk. Then the father arrived. They pointedly ignored each other.
As I gave a detailed account of Tommy’s behavior and schoolwork, I prayed for the right words to bring these two together to help them see what they were doing to their son. But somehow the words wouldn’t come. Perhaps if they saw one of his smudged, carelessly done papers.
I found a crumpled, tear-stained sheet stuffed in the back of his desk. Writing covered both sides, a single sentence scribbled over and over.
Silently I smoothed it out and gave it to Tommy’s mother. She read it and then without a word handed it to her husband. He frowned. Then his face softened. He studied the scrawled words for what seemed an eternity.
At last he folded the paper carefully and reached for his wife’s outstretched hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled up at him. My own eyes were brimming, but neither seemed to notice.
In his own way God had given me the words to reunite that family. He had guided me to the sheet of yellow copy paper covered with the anguished outpouring of a small boy’s troubled heart.
“Dear Mother . . . Dear Daddy . . . I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you.” 

Source: Jane Lindstrom

 

Two Brothers

Two brothers worked together on the family farm. One was married and had a large family. The other was single. At the day’s end, the brothers shared everything equally, produce and profit.
Then one day the single brother said to himself, “It’s not right that we should share equally the produce and the profit. I’m alone and my needs are simple.” So each night he took a sack of grain from his bin and crept across the field between their houses, dumping it into his brother’s bin.
Meanwhile, the married brother said to himself, “It’s not right that we should share the produce and the profit equally. After all, I’m married and I have my wife and my children to look after me in years to come. My brother has no one, and no one to take care of his future.” So each night, he took a sack of grain and dumped it into his single brother’s bin.
Both men were puzzled for years because their supply of grain never dwindled. Then one dark night the two brothers bumped into each other. Slowly it dawned on them what was happening. They dropped their sacks and embraced one another. 

Author Unknown

For it is in giving that we receive

– Saint Francis of Assisi

 

Do It Now

Do it now

In a crash course in psychology, the professor gave the assignment to the students: “Within a week, you go to someone you love, and tell them that you love them. They are people that you have never or rarely told such words.”

The assignment looked easy. However, almost the men of the course, who were over 30 years old, found it difficult to carry out because rarely had they expressed their feelings to someone else.

At the beginning of the next class, the professor asked his students to retell their stories. It seemed that he waited for a woman, but an arm of a man raised. He looked so touched. He began his story:
“Five years ago, my father and I had a vicious disagreement and never really resolved it. We avoided seeing each other unless we absolutely had to at family gatherings. Even those times, we hardly spoke. So by the time I got home, I had convinced myself I was going to tell my father I loved him.

Just making that decision seemed to lift a heavy load off my chest. During that night, I hardly slept. Next day, I was at my parents’ house ringing the doorbell, praying that Dad would answer the door. I was afraid if Mom answered, I would chicken out and tell her instead. But as luck would have it, Dad did answer the door.

‘I didn’t waste any time’ – I took one step in the door and said, ‘Dad, I just came over to tell you that please forgive me and I love you.’

It was as if a transformation came over my dad. Before my eyes his face softened, the wrinkles seemed to disappear and he began to cry. He reached out and hugged me and said, ‘I love you too, son, but I’ve never been able to say it.’

But that’s not even my point. Two days after that visit, my dad had a sudden heart attack and now is still in the hospital. If I am still hesitating about talking to my father, I may not have no chance to do so.”

– Dennis E. Mannering

No man truly has joy unless he lives in love.

– St. Thomas Aquinas

You must give time to your fellow men even if it’s a little thing.

– Albert Schweitzer

 

Who you are makes a difference

One night a man came home to his 14 years old son and sat him down. He said, 

“The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my office and one of the junior executives came in and he told me that he admired me and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. The blue ribbon that says ‘Who I am makes a difference’. Then he gave me an extra ribbon and asked me to find somebody else special to honor. As I was driving home tonight, I started thinking about whom I would honor with this ribbon and I thought about you. I want to honor you.”

“My days are really hectic, and when I come home, I don’t pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting enough good grades in school and for your bedroom being a mess, but somehow tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do make a difference to me. Beside your mother, you are the most important person in my life. You’re a gread kid and I love you!” 

The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he couldn’t stop crying. His whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said, through his broken tears,

“I was planning on committing suicide tomorrow, Dad, because I didn’t think you loved me. Now I don’t need to do that.” 

– Helice Bridges 

Love cures people – Both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.

– Karl Menninger

 

Heart Song

There was a great man who married the woman of his dreams. With their love, they created a little lovely girl.

When the little girl was growing up, the great man would hug her and tell her, “I love you, little girl.” The little girl would pout and say, “I’m not a little girl anymore.” Then the man would laugh and say, “But to me, you’ll always be my little girl.”

The little girl who was not little anymore decided to leave her home and went into the world. As she learned more about herself, she learned more about the man. One of his strengths was his ability to express his love to his family. It didn’t matter where she went in the world, the man would call her and say, “I love you, little girl.”

The day came when the little girl who was not little anymore received an unexpected phone call. The great man was damaged. He had had a stroke. He couldn’t talk, smile, walk, hug, dance or tell the little girl who was not little anymore that he loved her.

And so she went to the side of the great man. When she walked into the room and saw him, he looked small and not strong at all. He looked at her and tried to speak, but he could not. The little girl did the only thing she could do. She sat next to the great man, and drew her arms around the useless shoulders of her father. Her head on his chest, she thought of many things, She remembered she had always felt protected and cherished by the great man. She felt grief for the loss she was to endure, the words of love that had comforted her.

And then she heard from within the man, the beat of his heart. The heart beat on, steadily, unconcerned about the damage to the rest of the body. And while she rested there, the magic happened. She heard what she needed to hear.

His heart beat out the words that his mouth could no longer say…I love you, little girl… I love you, little girl… and she was comforted.

– Patty Hansen

 

A Brother Like That!

I was received a beautiful bicycle as a birthday present. One day, when I took a ride on my bicycle in the park, a boy was walking around the bicycle, admiring it.

“Is this your bicycle?”, he asked.

“My brother gave it to me on my birthday”, I replied with pride and satisfaction.

“Oh, I wish…”, he hesitated.

Of course I knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the boy said was unexpected to me:

“I wish,” the boy went on slowly, “that I could be a brother like that”. I saw his face full of determination. Then, he went to the bench behind me, where his little crippled brother was sitting and said:

“Someday, I’m gonna give you a wheelchair on your birthday.”

– Dan Clark

You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments that stand out, the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.

– Henry Drummond