Tuesday, December 15, 2009

[spilled milk part II]

stephanie sent me this e-mail and i just had to blog it...

it went along so nicely with my last post!

The Wooden Bowl
[I guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowl tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now.]

> 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 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 father,' 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 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 sweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as 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 so 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, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
> On a positive note, I've learned that, no matter what happens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.

see a little holiday heaven