Category: Friendship - Grace Drops

A Dog's Purpose

7/12/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. Upon examination, I found he was dying of cancer. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home. As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for four-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life – like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?

Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn stuff like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

Take naps. Lots of them.

Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.

Being always grateful for each new day and for the blessing of you.

ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY!

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).

The Warmth of Fellowship

6/4/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services regularly, stopped going. After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit him.

It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire. Guessing the reason for his pastor’s visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a comfortable chair near the fireplace and waited. The pastor made himself at home but said nothing.

In the grave silence, he contemplated the dance of the flames around the burning logs. After some minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent. The host watched all this in quiet contemplation. As the one lone ember's flame flickered and diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon it was cold and dead.

Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting. The Pastor glanced at his watch and realized it was time to leave. He slowly stood up, picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow, once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.

As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said with a tear running down his cheek, "Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I shall be back in church next Sunday."

We live in a world today, which tries to say too much with too little. Consequently, few listen. Sometimes the best sermons are the ones left unspoken.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).

Wet Pants

2/19/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Come with me to a third grade classroom . . . There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants is wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives.

The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat."

He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered. As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap.
The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!"

Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else -- Susie. She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. “You've done enough, you klutz!"

Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too."

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

The Secret Santa

12/20/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

This story occurred when my husband had been transferred from Massachusetts to Florida. We had already had several transfers, and I didn’t want to move again, especially since all my family is in Mass., and I had a job that I loved. We moved away from a small town that was truly a “Currier and Ives” setting at Christmas, from the town Christmas tree decorating to the candlelight processional from town center to the white steepled church. Florida was NOT a Christmas-y setting as far as I was concerned!

About a month before the first Christmas that I had to spend in Florida, a large box with a postmark that I didn’t recognize arrived at my house. Inside was a beautiful balsam Christmas wreath that smelled of all the Christmasses I’d ever known. No card, no identification to let me know where it came from. It remained a mystery. The next week, a second box arrived with mulling spices for cider, hot chocolate and a note from Secret Santa. A different strange postmark was on this box, still of a town where I didn’t know anyone.

Week three brought a “Christmas Traditions in New England” book from a third different town.

Week four brought a candle and “snowman making kit.”

It took a full year for me to finally discover that my friends at the job I left in Massachusetts got together to make sure I had a New England Christmas. They drove all over the state to mail the box from areas that I wouldn’t recognize, and each one I asked about it innocently denied any knowledge of the “plot” until they all decided to send me a note together. That Christmas left a “warm fuzzy” feeling for weeks, and even now makes me feel so loved and blessed when I speak of it almost 14 years later!

Maryellen Sullivan. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

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.

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).

A Man and His Dog

5/13/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A man and his dog were walking down a road. Both had been killed in the same automobile accident. As they walked along, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road.

It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. He gazed upon a magnificent gate that looked like Mother of Pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?”

“This is Heaven, sir,” the man answered.

“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.

“Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.”

“Can my friend,” gesturing toward his dog, “come in, too?” the traveler asked.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.”

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

“Excuse me!” he called to the reader. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there.” The man pointed to a place that couldn’t be seen from the outside gate. “Come on in.”

“How about my friend here?” the traveler gestured to the dog.

“There should be a bowl by the pump.” They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler took a long drink himself, then he filled the bowl and gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.

“What do you call this place?” the traveler asked. “This is Heaven,” he answered.

“Well, that’s confusing,” the traveler said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.”

“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s Hell.”

“Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?”

“No, I can see how you might think so, but we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who’ll leave their best friends behind.”

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 3 (2005).

Reasons Why . . .

1/28/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

People come into your life for a REASON, a SEASON, or a LIFETIME.

When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for a reason, you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.

When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway), and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant. You affect each and every person you encounter on a daily basis either for a moment, a season, or an entire lifetime. Are you making the most of every moment and every encounter?

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume II (2004).

Fences or Bridges?

11/26/2012

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch. Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days work," he said. "Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?" "Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor, in fact, it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a fence – an 8-foot fence – so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down anyhow." The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post hole differ and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you." The older brother had to go to town for supplies, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day.

The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, and nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped. There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge – a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work – handrails and all – and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched.

"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done." The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand.

They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother. "I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said," but I have many more bridges to build."

Every day we have the choice of building fences or bridges. One leads to isolation and the other to openness.

© 2003, John C. Fitts, III. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume I (2003).

Mud Sitting

10/25/2012

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A farmer was out plowing his field one spring morning. The spring thaw had just occurred and there were many muddy valleys in the field. Through one particularly wet place his tractor became stuck in the mud. The harder he tried, the deeper he became stuck. Finally, he walked over to his neighbor's to ask for help. The neighbor came over and looked at the situation. He shook his head, and then said, "It doesn't look good, but I tell you what. I'll give it a try pulling you out. But if we don't get it out, I'll come sit in the mud with ya!"

Although we may not all be farmers, we do experience getting "stuck in the mud" from time to time. And chances are we probably know someone who is stuck right now. Have you tried "mud-sitting" with a friend? It may be the best thing you can do!

© 2003, John C. Fitts, III. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume I (2003).