One Solitary Life

- Unknown

Contributed by Kathy Pinto

Here is a man who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in an obscure village. He worked in a carpenter shop until he was thirty, and then for three years he was an itinerant teacher.

He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never owned a home. He never had a family. He never went to college. He never traveled, except in his infancy, more than two hundred miles from the place where he was born. He never did one of the things that usually accompanies greatness. He had no credentials but himself.

While he was still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied him. He was turned over to his enemies. He went through a mockery of a trial. He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves. His executioners gambled for the only piece of property he had on earth, his seamless robe. When he was dead, he was taken down from the cross and laid in a borrowed grave through the courtesy of a friend.

Nineteen wide centuries have come and gone, and today he is the centerpiece of the human race and the leader of all human progress. I am well within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever were built, all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has this one solitary personality.

A New Bicycle for Almie Rose

Author Unknown
Submitted by Richard

It was at least two months before Christmas, when nine year old Almie Rose told her father and me that she wanted a new bicycle. Her old Barbie bicycle was just too babyish, and besides, it needed a new tire.

As Christmas drew nearer, her desire for a bicycle seemed to fade–or so we thought, as she didn’t mention it again. Merrily, we started purchasing the latest rage–Baby-Sitter’s Club dolls–and beautiful story books, a doll house, a holiday dress and toys. Then, much to our surprise, on December 23rd she proudly announced that she “really wanted a bike more than anything else.”

Now we didn’t know what to do. It was just too late, what with all the details of preparing Christmas dinner and buying last-minute gifts, to take the time to select the “right bike” for our little girl. So here we were–Christmas Eve around 9pm, having just returned from a wonderful party, contemplating our evening ahead…hours of wrapping children’s presents, parent’s presents, a brother’s presents and friend’s presents. With Almie Rose and her six-year-old brother, Dylan, nestled snug in their beds, we could now think only of the bike, the guilt and the idea that we were parents who would disappoint their child.

That’s when my husband, Ron, was inspired. “What if I make a little bicycle out of clay and write a note that she could trade the clay model in for a real bike?” The theory, of course, being that since this is a high-ticket item and she is “such a big girl,” it would be much better for her to pick it out. So he spent the next five hours painstakingly working with clay to create a miniature bike.

Three hours later, on Christmas morning, we were so excited for Almie Rose to open the little heart-shaped package with the beautiful red and white clay bike and the note. Finally, she opened and read the note aloud.

She looked at me and then at Ron and said, “So, does this mean that I trade in this bike that Daddy made me for a real one?”

Beaming, I said, “YES.”

Almie Rose had tears in her eyes when she replied, “I could never trade in this beautiful bicycle that Daddy made me. I’d rather keep this than get a real bike.”

At that moment, we would have moved Heaven and Earth to buy her every bicycle on the planet!