You can't please everyone

Monday, August 31, 2009

One day a man was going to market with his son and his ass. they met a couple on the way.


"Why walk when you have an ass to ride?" called out the husband, "seat the boy on the ass."

"I would like that," said the boy, "help me up father."

The lark in her nestAnd the father did that willingly.

Soon they met another couple. "How shameful of you!" cried the woman, "let your father ride, won't he be tired?"

So, the boy got down and the father rode the ass. Again they marched on.

"poor boy", said the next person they met, "why should the lazy father ride while his son is walking?"

So, the boy got onto the ass too. As they went on, they met some travellers.

The lark in her nest"How cruel of them!" They are up to kill the poor ass." cried one of the travellers.

Hearing this, the father and the son got down. Now they decided to carry the ass on their shoulders. As they did so, the travellers broke into laughter.

The laughter frightened the ass. It broke free and galloped away.


MORAL: You can not please everyone

Fear - Story of a Lion

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

moral short story

There was a lion who feared nothing except the crowing of cocks. A chill would go down his spine whenever he heard a cock crowing.
One day he confessed his fear to the elephant, who was greatly amused.
“How can the crowing of a cock hurt you?” he asked the lion. “Think about it!”
Just then a mosquito began circling the elephant’s head, frightening him out of his wits.
“If it gets into my ear I’m doomed!” he shrieked, flailing at the insect with his trunk.
Now it was the lion’s turn to feel amused.

Moral: If we could see our fears as others see them we would realise that most of our fears make no sense!

MY DOG SKOOTER

Friday, August 14, 2009

Skooter was a Labrador retriever that loved to chase cats and rabbits. It was seldom successful in its pursuits but once in a while it cornered one of its furry friends. When this happened, Scooter just turned and walked away leaving the little animal to escape for a future chase.

At about 8:30 one evening, I heard a scratch on the door. I opened it and there stood Skooter with a white, dead rabbit in its mouth. I had never seen my dog chase a white rabbit before. Taking the bundle of fur from Scooter's mouth, I looked closer and saw that it was my next door neighbor's pet rabbit, Snowball. Its fur was dirty and messy. I was frantic. I thought, "What should I do? How can I explain to my neighbor that my dog had killed his favorite pet? Boy, will he be upset with me!" Snowball was always kept in its hutch in the neighbor's back yard. My neighbor, John, and I were good friends.

Then, an idea came to me. I know what I'll do. I took the dead rabbit into the bathroom and made a mixture of shampoo and water to wash the rabbit's fur. I thoroughly rinsed the fur with water and dried it off with a towel. This was followed with the use of a blow dryer. Wow, when I finished, it looked good. It was dead, but it looked good.

My plan was to wait until later in the night. At midnight, I took Snowball and snuck into my neighbor's back yard and put Snowball back into its hutch. After getting back home, I felt confident that all would be well.

At about 7:30 the next morning, my doorbell rang. I opened the door and there was my neighbor. He looked bewildered. I asked him, "What's up?"

John said, "Have you seen any weird people around this neighborhood lately?"

I said, "No! Why?"

He said, "Well, yesterday, Snowball died and I buried it in the back yard."

I thought, "Oh, oh, confession time."

It always pays to be honest.

The Praying Hands

Monday, August 10, 2009

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you."

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late."

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."

The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

The Frog Who Wished

Friday, August 7, 2009

In a field a very long time ago there was a family of frogs. The mother frog was quite old and very wise. The father frog was not quite so old nor quite as wise but he was kindly. They had many children who had grown strong from little tadpoles within the pond and now were ready to be sent forth to venture far and wide into the world. Each and every one of the many children, the young froglets, were excited to explore this world but there was one who held back, a little shy, even perhaps a little affeared for what might be out there.

There came the day when all at once they decided to venture forth and hopped in the grass across the field, over the hill to the far horizon. The parents were sad to see them go but knew, go they must, as all young froglets must embark upon their journey into the wide world to follow their own path and destiny. The small timid one stayed behind, not really wanting to leave his mother and father, and although a little curious to see what his brothers and sisters might find, he preferred to stay where he was.

“Why do you not go?” asked his father. “What will you do if you stay here?”

The little frog looked up at his parents and said “Can I not stay with you in this pond which was always good enough for you and the others? Why should it not be good for me?”

His father and mother looked at each other and could no longer disagree; indeed, why should he not stay. So this was accepted.

In time the little frog grew larger, he grew bigger and his mother and father faded away, as all good animals and people must do in the process of time. He was left alone in the pond and indeed became very lonely and sad. He would call at night for a mate, night upon night for many, many months. He would call hoping that a female frog would hear his plaintive cries. Then one late autumn night, when all frogs should have prepared to dig deep into the mud of the pond to stay for the winter, he still remained calling for a mate. Eventually his cries were met and a young, beautiful female frog came to him and spoke. “Why are you so sad, why do you call so?”

“I am happy now that I see you before me and would you take my hand so that we may become friends and meld together and make a family?” She agreed to do this and they were both very happy together.

The winter came and still they had not prepared. They became cold and hungry, there were no flies and insects to eat at that time of year, all had gone after the long summer and there was nothing left to eat. As it got colder they huddled together, knowing they were happy but sad that they would not live for much longer and were not to enjoy each other’s company for another year, nor to produce the family they had so wished for.

The moral is one should prepare before one wishes for what one wants, knowing that if one is given what one wishes it may be too late to fulfil its purpose. In other words; look before you leap.

EAGLES IN A STORM

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks?

The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to come. When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm. While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above it.

The eagle does not escape the storm. It simply uses the storm to lift it higher. It rises on the winds that bring the storm.

When the storms of life come upon us - and all of us will experience them - we can rise above them by setting our minds and our belief toward God. The storms do not have to overcome us. We can allow God's power to lift us above them.

God enables us to ride the winds of the storm that bring sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment in our lives. We can soar above the storm.

Remember, it is not the burdens of life that weigh us down, it is how we handle them.

The Hungry Mouse

Saturday, August 1, 2009

kids short stories
A mouse was having a very bad time. She could find no food at all. She looked here and there, but there was no food, and she grew very thin.

At last the mouse found a basket, full of corn. There was a small hole in the basket, and she crept in. She could just get through the hole.

Then she began to eat the corn. Being very hungry, she ate a great deal, and went on eating and eating. She had grown very fat before she felt that she had had enough.

When the mouse tried to climb out of the basket, she could not. She was too fat to pass through the hole.

"How shall I climb out?" said the mouse. "oh, how shall I climb out?"

Just then a rat came along, and he heard the mouse.

"Mouse," said the rat, "if you want to climb out of the basket, you must wait till you have grown as thin as you were when you went in."