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Family

11/26/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
  "Oh excuse me please" was my reply.

He said, "Please excuse me too;
 
I wasn't watching for you."
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
  We went on our way and we said goodbye.
But at home a different story is told,
  How we treat our loved ones, young and old.

Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
  My son stood beside me very still.

When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
  "Move out of the way," I said with a frown.

He walked away, his little heart broken.
  I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.

While I lay awake in bed,
  God's still small voice came to me and said,

"While dealing with a stranger,
  common courtesy you use,
  but the family you love, you seem to abuse.”

Go and look on the kitchen floor,
 
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
  He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.

He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
  you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."

By this time, I felt very small,
  And now my tears began to fall.
  I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said.
  "Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.

 
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
 
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."
I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;

  I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay
  I love you anyway."

I said, "Son, I love you too,
 
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 7 (2009).


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Beauty in Our Midst

11/18/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule. A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk. A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars. Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context? One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing the best music ever written on an almost priceless instrument, how many other things are we missing?

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 7 (2009).


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Two Grace Drops

11/17/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.


Two figures from very different worlds, yet they as much as anyone, grasp the power of grace:

“We must not drift away from the humble works, because these are the works nobody will do. It is never too small. We are so small and we look at things in a small way. But God, being Almighty, sees everything great. Therefore, even if you write a letter for a blind man or you just go and listen, or you take the mail for him, or you visit somebody or bring a flower to somebody −  small things − or wash clothes for somebody, or clean the house − very humble work − that is  where you and I must be. For there are many people who can do big things, but there are very few people who will do small things.”
−        Mother Teresa

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and probably be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the coffin or casket of your selfishness. But in that casket − safe, dark, motionless, airless − it will change. It will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The only place outside heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is hell.”
−        C.S. Lewis

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 7 (2009).



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Discipline

11/14/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

























Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year, and every year Morris would say, “Esther, I'd like to ride in that helicopter.”

Esther always replied, “'I know Morris, but that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars!”

One year Esther and Morris went to the fair, and Morris said, “Esther, I'm 85 years old. If I don't ride that helicopter, I might never get another chance.”

To this, Esther replied, “Morris that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars.”

The pilot overheard the couple and said, “Folks I'll make you a deal. I'll take the both of you for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and don't say a word I won't charge you a penny! But if you say one word it's fifty dollars.”

Morris and Esther agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of fancy maneuvers, but not a word was heard. He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, but still not a word.

When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris and said, “By golly, I did everything I could to get you to yell out, but you didn't. I'm impressed!”

Morris replied, “Well, to tell you the truth, I almost said something when Esther fell out, but you know, fifty dollars is fifty dollars!”

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 7 (2009).


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What's in a Name?

11/13/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
One day recently I was referred to a patient to help fill out an Advance Directive. I went to the room and found a very pleasant lady who was, indeed, anxious to have this document completed and in her file. Inquiring as to her understanding of the importance of the form, she explained that she was a nurse and sometimes floated to this hospital. She knew all about the need for her wishes to be known when the time comes. Smiling, she also remarked that she enjoyed the stories that I post around the hospital called Grace Drops. Well, she won me over, always receptive to a compliment.

As we filled out the form, I asked her to pronounce her first name since it had an unusual spelling. “Mariya,” she said, “was pronounced Ma-ri-a, with a long i.” Immediately I broke out into song, harking back to my high school days and the folk music of which I was a fan,  “A way out here they have a name for rain and wind and fire. The rain is Tess, the fire’s Joe, and they call the wind Mariah…..” As I paused, there was no request to keep singing, so I went back to filling out the form.

Later, as we were finishing up, I asked about her name. “The spelling of your name is different than I’ve seen, what is its origin?” She said with a twinkle in her eye, “It is Native American. It means ‘WIND.’”

Sheepishly, I said, “Oh, of course it does.”

© 2009, John C. Fitts, III.  All Rights Reserved.  Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 7 (2009).


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What Can I Say?

11/4/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
Why, I wonder, do we struggle so much with words when it involves sharing our feelings with those we care about the most? We are an impoverished people when it comes to expressing ourselves, aren’t we? Thank goodness for the Hallmark Company who has made a fortune capitalizing on our poverty, selling us pre-printed messages that say what we seem to be incapable of. I’m curious, though, is finding the right words really that important when expressing our feelings to someone we care about?

My first recollection of struggling with words occurred when I was about eleven or twelve years old. Our neighbor Odell, who was like another mother to me, had become ill and needed surgery which required an extended stay in the hospital. After she returned home I remember that for days I avoided going to see her, ashamed and afraid because I didn’t know what to say. Finally my mother informed me that Odell wanted to see me. I desperately wanted to see her too, of course, but what would I say? The answer came when Odell met me at the door of her home and greeted me with an affectionate hug. If words were exchanged, I don’t remember them. She didn’t care about my words, you see, all she wanted was my presence. It was that simple.

Perhaps I’m a bit more courageous than I was when I was twelve, but finding the right words to say is still awkward to me. As a result I’ve spent a lot of money on Hallmark cards through the years. But I think often about the lesson I learned that day from my reunion with Odell, that it is not about saying the right words; rather, it is about being present, in communion with someone we care about.

Let me ask you something. Think about the last time you received a Hallmark greeting card. What meant more to you, the printed message on the card or the person who sent it to you? . . . Recall your last birthday party, large or small. What do you remember most vividly, the gifts, the cake – or the ones who were present?

What’s most important to you? Good question to consider next time you’re struggling with the right words to say.

Author: Dan Wilson.


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    Author

    John Fitts is a retired hospital chaplain and a contributor & publisher of Grace Drops. John lives in Palm Harbor, Florida with his artist wife, Patty. 
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