A touching tale shared by a friend

                                   *Two Choices*
What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'

       The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give

him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

        I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

       Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart.

        The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

         In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

            In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

         At this juncture, do the others let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

           Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

             However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.

          The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

      The game would now be over.

           The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

           Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!

           Run to first!'

             Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.

            He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

         Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

              He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman' s head.

 

         Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

          All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

          Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!

 

Shay, run to third!'

       As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'

             Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team

 

'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.

 

            Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

 

*May your day, be a Shay day*

ILLUSIONS

Dr. Sundara Avudaiappan in his book “Iniyavai Iniayavai Iraianbu”( Best Of Iraianbu), gives a beautiful illustration to make us understand the maya or illusion behind this concept of life & death with an imaginary conversation between the twins inside the womb of their mother. It follows like this:Once inside the womb of a mother there laid a twins . As they were growing, one of them asked the other,

I) “ is it true that the room is becoming smaller and smaller”?.The other replied,

II) “may be, I do not know, But even I feel the suffocation, life is dull always lying idle…’.

I) “ hey, don’t you realise the blissful life inside this protected world where we lie down happily doing nothing when someone eats for us and breaths for us?

“II) Yes, But I heard something called ‘Birth’…

I) No no .. all that rumour…

II) Hey.. earth quake, house breaking..

I) ya.. I want to escape from this death, hold on.. fight out..

II) Oh! .. no.. I am unable to .. I am dying .. good bye..I)

I) hey!.. me too… oh no.. I don’t want to die…

The author now provokes us with the question,“The moment when we are born out of womb of our mother is it ‘birth’? or ‘death’?”

( These are the Excerpts shared by a friend via mail)

A beautiful story shared by my friend..

Her name was Mrs. Thompson. As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death had been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag.

Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to". After the children left she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to tea ch children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded.

By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life. Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was little longer - the letter was signed, Theodore F.Stoddard, MD.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

Please remember that wherever you go, and whatever you do, you will have the opportunity to touch and / or change a person's outlook. Please try to do it in a positive way.

Self Worth- A wonderful story

THE INNER JEWEL
See the weary traveler;How he suffers carrying everything he owns,Ten years worth,Twenty years worth,Wondering why.Upset at how the years have gone.And many have taken him in,Offering him shelter from the constant storms.But the storms are within him.And in his anger, he can always find something wrong;"The bed is too hard""They were not so kind""I am not welcome anywhere""This is not the truth I was meant to find".
One day he met a calm manThat in anger, he could not shake.The men greeted each other with smiles and bows,One in kindness, the other, fake."Would you take tea with me?", the calm man asked"Yes thank you." the angry man replied.So the man set off to make his teaLeaving the angry man there for awhile.And while he waited, his anger grew, Harsh and loud like a storm of the sea.He thought long about how rude his host wasFor keeping him waiting,And what he would say when he returned;How he would show him humility.Hours past and day became nightFinally the calm man returned with just one cup of tea.
"This is the best tea from my village." he said,"We serve it for only most honored guests.It takes a very long time to brewbecause we can only pick and steep the leaveswhen the leaves are just right."The angry man sat staring at the beautiful tea cupand the hot tea steaming insideIn it, he could see the many people picking the leaves.He could hear their prayers and chants,He could see their smiles,How heavy their burdens were,And yet, how light their lives seemed.He looked deeper and could see the earth blossomingThe simply beauty of both flowers and trees.At the bottom of the cup there was a single tea leafRolled up like a pearl"You left something in my tea." he said quietly.
The calm man smiled and touched the mans hands."Many decorate themselves with jewels." he said,"But the grandest most beautiful jewel of all, is within.Hidden beneath our fragility,Hidden far beyond our every day sight,Buried in the places we'd rather not go,Beneath all the hurt we'd rather deny,So in our tea, the curled green leaf is a reminderto cultivate the inner jewels that cannot be seen."
"Then why did you offer it to me?" the angry man asked,"I am not worthy of such things.I hate and rage, am ungrateful and unkind.I am a foolish man, foolish, cruel and blind.I have hurt more than I have helped,and have left so many feeling angry and used.Why give me such a gift?Why share with me this "precious jewel"?
"Every being is worthy.Every being has such worth inside,No matter how deep they bury it,No matter how hard it is to find,We offer only what we have to giveAnd ask nothing of you in return.Drink the tea my friend,May we all work with joy to cultivate and sharethe very best of ourselvesWe cannot always stop the storms,But we can always learn to act in love, not abuse."By Jenifer Edwards

Zen Stories

THE VALUE OF BODHICITTA
In days of yore, an older master was traveling along a country road, followed by a disciple carrying his bags. As they walked, they saw lands being plowed while farmers and oxen were strained to the utmost. Countless worms and insects were killed in the process, and birds were swooping to eat them. This led the disciple to wonder to himself, "How hard it is to make a living. I will cultivate with all my strength, become a Buddha and save all these creatures." Immediately the Master, an Arhat able to read the thoughts of others, turned around and said, "Let me have those heavy bags and I will follow you." The disciple was puzzled but did as instructed and walked in front. As they continued on their way with the hot sun bearing down on them, dust swirling all around them, the road stretching endlessly in front, the disciple grew more and more tired. It wasn't long before he thought to himself, "There are so many sentient beings and there is so much suffering, how can I possibly help them all? Perhaps I should try to help myself only." Immediately, the Master behind him said, "Stop. Now you carry the bags and follow me." The puzzled disciple did as told, knowing he was not supposed to ask questions. He took up the bags again and walked behind. This sequence repeated itself several times. The Master walked in front with the disciple carrying the bags, then the disciple in front with the Master carrying the bags, back and forth, until they stopped for lunch. Then the disciple gathered his courage and asked the reason why. The Master said, "When you had exalted thoughts of saving all sentient beings, you had the Bodhi Mind, the mind of a Bodhisattva, and I as an Arhat had to follow you. But as soon as you had selfish thoughts, you were no longer a Bodhisattva, and being junior to me in years and cultivation, you had to carry my bags!"