Do you receive praise for the things you do? Does it feel important to you? Do you offer praise to others?
I have a story to share with you. It’s part a book, Little Buddha Book Six, which is the most recent in a series I’ve written. The story comes about because one of the characters, Natalie, wants to see if she can write an engaging story that will appeal to a reader, to offer an important message and at the same time, limit the story’s length to less than three hundred words. Quite a challenge.
She used a picture to inspire her story of a stone roadway with homes on the left and right sides and poles with electrical wires connecting them.
One house has an exterior house light lite which casts a reddish glow on the stones.
Natalie’s story about a young boy goes like this…
I woke up on my mat next to my brothers and sisters and waited. My mother came in shouting, “Get up, get up, there is much work to be done.”
I stood, went to the stairs, climbed into the loft, reached for the broom, and began sweeping. I knew there would be an inspection, so I was careful.
I heard a noise and watched a mouse cross the floor. It tried to jump into a hole in the wall, but because it had eaten well, it could not fit. It leapt again, knocking a chunk of wall onto the floor, then ran in the opposite direction.
I went over to look inside the hole. I saw two disconnected wires and wondered about them. I twisted them together and finished sweeping the floor.
Later that night my father came home, “It’s a miracle,” he said, as he came through the door. “The light is on outside. How did this happen?”
My brothers, sisters and I stood in a line as we did each night, awaiting his approval.
“It was I father. I am your miracle.”
“This cannot be. You are just a boy.”
Hungry for a kind word from him, I said, “I twisted two wires together and the light came on. Are you pleased with me?”
He looked sternly at me and spoke, “Is it not enough that you know what you did, must you receive praise for it? A man knows what is important inside himself and does not need others to tell him. This is what my father taught me and what his father taught him.”
I felt downcast and pondered his words. I decided something in that moment. This would not be what I taught my son. I would teach him that he is a miracle. …end story
Even though I wrote the story, the ending completely surprised me, as if it had been supplied by someone else. I could feel the depth of the young boy’s reaction to the lack of praise he received, and the way his father’s words were spoken.
What I love about his reaction is that he promises he will live a different life and teach his son a different lesson. I can almost hear him speaking to his future son, telling him that he is precious to him and to the world, and that he is in fact, a miracle.
Imagine what kind of life that would create for his son, and also for his daughters. Imagine being regarded in such a positive manner, supported, encouraged, believed in.
I want to more than just imagine this in my life. I want to live it. I want to recognize the beauty and miracles that surround me every day.
Imagine what a difference this could make in the world if we treated each other as the miracles we are.
Messages For Inspiration 