Tuesday, 19 April 2011

3 Treats for the Lenten Season

A Woman’s Place

There is a cute story told about the Governor of Texas, then Mark White.
Governor White and his wife were driving through the open Texas countryside one-day, out for a relaxing drive and talk
The couple happened to be around the area where Mrs. White grew up, and as they pulled into a gas station to fuel up and check out the car, Mark noticed a little nervousness with his wife. He didn’t say anything, but when the gas station attendant came out to their car, Mark began to notice what was really going on. Both his wife and the attendant looked surprised to see each other, and they acted with that awkwardness that two people have when they’ve been close in the past, but weren’t anymore.
Governor White pretended not to notice this. They finished at the gas station and continued back down the highway. The car fell silent and neither said a word. For a long time they remained silent, and all the while Mrs. White kept looking out the window, staring off out into the distance. Mark was considerate and patient with this silence, and he continued to drive in the silence. But after the silence had gone on for almost an hour, he interrupted, trying to break the silence.
“Honey, I couldn’t help but notice how you and that gas station attendant looked at each other. You were involved with each other at one point, weren’t you,” he asked?
“Well, yea,” She responded, quietly.
“Well, I guess I know how you feel. You were probably thinking about that and needed some space, right,” he continued?
“Yea,” she said again.
“I guess you were probably thinking about how different your two lives had become. I guess you were thinking that if you had married him, then you’d be the wife of a gas station attendant now, instead of my wife. Right,” he said?
“Well, No. Actually I was thinking that he’d be the governor now.”

A Coo for Help?
alferd castro

 At 74 and having undergone a clinical operation, my mother finds difficulty in maintaining her balance. She strains in getting up from a reclined position and she walks very slowly. She is most of the time left in the house with my father who has a hearing problem.
When they were all alone one summer afternoon, mom decided to go out the front yard to check on the gate and see if it was latched. And seeing it was secured, she then sauntered back home. And halfway through, she was suddenly caught off-balanced, forcing her body to lie flat on the ground, which is covered with soil. Weak and unable to force her weight up, she just resigned to wait for assistance. Though she tried to holler for help, only a murmur would be heard. In the meantime, Dad was inside the house watching the television unaware of the event outside.
It is worth mentioning at this point, that in the front yard, there is a pet parrot which is free and untied. It does not fly but it just walks its way about the yard. It shelters itself on a branch of the mango tree located at the center of the lawn.
In an unexpected occurrence, the parrot alighted from the tree limb and strolled towards mom. It began to utter strange and loud cooing. I would not be able to guess at that particular moment on the specific intent of the pet, on whether it was playfully conversing with mom or whether it was yelling for help. But remarkably, just after some time, the noise attracted the senses of my father. He then went out to check on what the sound commotion was. He presumed the parrot was being attacked by a cat. And as he stepped outside, he was surprised to see mother fastened to the ground, with the parrot staying beside her.
The story was relayed by mom when I arrived home in the evening. It amused me to hear mother eagerly relating this funny parrot anecdote. I am grateful enough that no serious harm was inflicted on her. As for the parrot, it was given a festival dinner that night.

The Bridge Builder
Will Allen Dromgoole

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.
“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim, near,
“You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way;
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
Why build you a bridge at the eventide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head:
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today,
A youth, whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm, that has been naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.”


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