Blog Archives - Grace Drops

The Wooden Bowl

7/31/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.

The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon and onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

"We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. "I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor." So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.

Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone.

Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he had dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child curiously, "What are you making?"

Sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

The words so struck the parents that they were speechless! Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.

That evening, the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, when milk was spilled, or when the tablecloth was soiled.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Dead Duck

7/29/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgery. As she lay her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird's chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and said, "I'm so sorry, Cuddles has passed away."

The distressed owner wailed, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure. The duck is dead," he replied

"How can you be so sure," she protested. "I mean, you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."

The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room, returning a few moments later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.

The vet patted the dog and took it out, and returned a few moments later with a beautiful cat. The cat jumped up on the table, walked softly around the bird, and also sniffed delicately. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck."

Then the vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill which he handed to the woman. The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. "$150!” she cried, $150 just to tell me my duck is dead?!!"

The vet shrugged. "I'm sorry. If you'd have taken my word for it, the bill would have been only $20, but with the “Lab” report and the “Cat Scan,” the prices go way up!"

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

The World is Mine Today

7/27/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Upon a bus, I saw a very beautiful woman and wished I were as beautiful, when suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle. She had one leg and used a crutch. But as she passed, she paused to smile. Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I have two legs; the world is mine.

I stopped to buy some candy. The lad who sold it had such charm. I talked with him, he seemed so glad. If I were late, it'd do no harm. And as I left, he said to me, "I thank you, you've been so kind. It's nice to talk with folks like you. You see," he said, "I'm blind." Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I have two eyes; the world is mine.

Later while walking down the street, I saw a child I knew. He stood and watched the others play, but he did not know what to do. I stopped a moment and then I said, "Why don't you join them dear?" He looked ahead without a word. I forgot, he couldn't hear. Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I have two ears; the world is mine.

With feet to take me where I'd go; with eyes to see the sunset's glow; with ears to hear what I'd know; Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.

I've been blessed indeed, the world is mine.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

How to Tell When You're Rich

7/25/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

When I was a kid, watermelon was a delicacy. One of my father’s buddies, Bernie, was a prosperous fruit-and-vegetable wholesaler who operated a warehouse in Minnesota.

Every summer, when the first watermelons rolled in, Bernie would call. Dad and I would go to Bernie’s warehouse and take up our positions. We’d sit on the edge of the dock, feet dangling, and lean over, minimizing the volume of juice we were about to spill on ourselves.

Bernie would take his machete, crack our first watermelon, hand each of us a big piece, and sit down next to us. Then we’d bury our faces in watermelon, eating only the heart—the reddest, juiciest, firmest, most seed-free, most perfect part—and throw away the rest.

Bernie was my father’s idea of a rich man. I always thought it was because he was such a successful businessman. Years later, I realized that what my father admired about Bernie’s wealth was less its substance than its application. Bernie knew how to stop working, get together with friends, and eat only the heart of the watermelon.

What I learned from Bernie is that being rich is a state of mind. Some of us, no matter how much money we have, will never be free enough to eat only heart of the watermelon. Others are rich without ever being more than a paycheck ahead.

If you don’t take the time to dangle your feet over the dock and chomp into life’s small pleasures, probably your career is overwhelming your life.

For many years, I forgot that lesson I’d learned as a kid on the loading dock. I was too busy making all the money I could.

Well, I’ve relearned it. I hope I have time left to enjoy the accomplishments of others and to take pleasure in the day. That’s the heart of the watermelon. I have learned again to throw the rest away.

Finally, I am rich.

Harvey Mackay, A 4th Chicken Soup for the Soul.

The Freedom of Forgiveness

7/23/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

There was a little boy visiting his grandparents on their farm. He was given a slingshot to play with out in the woods. He practiced in the woods, but he could never hit the target. Getting a little discouraged, he headed back for dinner. As he was walking back he saw Grandma's pet duck. Just out of impulse, he let the slingshot fly, hit the duck square in the head, and killed it. He was shocked and grieved. In a panic, he hid the dead duck in the wood pile, only to see his sister watching!

Sally had seen it all, but she said nothing.

After lunch the next day Grandma said, "Sally, let's wash the dishes."

But Sally said, "Grandma, Johnny told me he wanted to help in the kitchen." Then she whispered to him, "Remember the duck?" So Johnny did the dishes.

Later that day, Grandpa asked if the children wanted to go fishing and Grandma said, "I'm sorry but I need Sally to help make supper." Sally just smiled and said, “Well that's all right because Johnny told me he wanted to help.” She whispered again, "Remember the duck?"

So Sally went fishing and Johnny stayed to help.

After several days of Johnny doing both his chores and Sally's he finally couldn't stand it any longer. He came to Grandma and confessed that he had killed the duck. Grandma knelt down, gave him a hug, and said, "Sweetheart, I know. You see, I was standing at the window and I saw the whole thing. But because I love you, I forgave you. I was just wondering how long you would let Sally make a servant of you."

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Touching Others

7/19/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Dale Carnegie once said, “You can make more friends in two months by becoming really interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you. Which is just another way of saying that the way to make a friend is to be one.”

G. K. Chesterton used to say, “The truly great person is the one who makes every person feel great.”

The following story illustrates these two statements.

In Queen Victoria’s time, a young woman had the good fortune of being escorted to dinner by William E. Gladstone, who was considered one of the most brilliant statesmen of the 19th century. On the following evening, the same young lady was escorted by Benjamin Disraeli, novelist, statesman, and twice prime minister of Great Britain.

When asked for her impression of these two great rivals, she replied, “After an evening with Gladstone, I thought he was the most brilliant man I’d ever met. After an evening with Disraeli, I thought myself to be the most fascinating woman in the world!”

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

The Carpenter

7/17/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house-building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career. When the carpenter finished his work the employer came to inspect the house.

He handed the front-door key to the carpenter. "This is your house," he said, "my gift to you."

The carpenter was shocked! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently.

So it is with us. We build our lives, a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the building. Then with a shock we realize we have to live in the house we have built. If we could do it over, we'd do it much differently. But we cannot go back. You are the carpenter.

Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. "Life is a do-it-yourself project," someone has said. Your attitudes and the choices you make today, build the "house" you live in tomorrow. Build wisely!

Remember...............

Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like nobody is watching.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 3 (2005).

A Drug Problem

7/15/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

The other day someone at a store in a small town read that a methamphetamine lab had been found in a house in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question.

"Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?"

"I did have a drug problem when I was a kid growing up . . . I was drug to church on Sunday morning. I was drug to church for weddings and funerals. I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather. I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults. I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn't put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me. I was drug to the kitchen sink if I uttered a profane four-letter word (I do know what lye soap tastes like). I was drug out to pull weeds in my Mom's garden and flowerbeds. I was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline or chop some fire wood. And if my Mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the wood shed.

Those drugs are still in my veins; and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, and think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin, and if today's children had this kind of drug problem, America might be a better place today.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 3 (2005).

A Trick

7/12/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A young man, a student in one of our universities, was one day taking a walk with a professor, who was commonly called the students' friend, from his kindness to those who waited on his instructions.

As they went along, they saw lying in the path a pair of old shoes, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who was employed in a field close by, and who had nearly finished his day's work.

The student turned to the professor, saying: "Let us play the man a trick: we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and wait to see his perplexity when he cannot find them."

"My young friend," answered the professor, "we should never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor. But you are rich, and may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of the poor man. Put a $20 into each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves and watch how the discovery affects him."

The student did so, and they both placed themselves behind the bushes close by.

The poor man soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path where he had left his coat and shoes. While putting on his coat he slipped his foot into one of his shoes; but feeling something, he stooped down to feel what it was, and found the money.

Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his countenance. He gazed upon the bill, turned it round, and looked at it again and again. He then looked around him on all sides, but no person was to be seen. He now put the money into his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe; but his surprise was doubled on finding the other bill.

His feelings overcame him; he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom the timely bounty, from some unknown hand, would save from perishing.

The student stood there deeply affected, and his eyes filled with tears. "Now," said the professor, "are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?"

The youth replied, "You have taught me a lesson which I will never forget. I feel now the truth of those words, which I never understood before: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"

Author Unknown. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 3 (2005).

Our Role in Life

7/10/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

"Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in my life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out for a part in a school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen. On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement.

"Guess what Mom," he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me: "I've been chosen to clap and cheer."

Perhaps you have seen this story, as it has made the rounds, but I would like to pass it on. The lesson applies to each one of us. Even of we play a prominent in our current setting, in the grand scheme of life we all clap and cheer.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 3 (2005).