Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Weeping Girl: Part 1
BY: RAY GRATZNER
There once was a girl, who was the only treasure of her parents. The mother loved her daughter very much and she dressed her every day like a little princess, with gorgeous clothes which flattered her skin.
Daily, she brushed the long hair of her child with much love and devotion and she was not tired to pay attention to her child. But from time to time she sighed and said, 'child, to be a mother is both joy and sorrow."
The father too loved his daughter very much. He cared less than the mother to change the appearance of the girl. Rather, he gave her a great deal of attention and fulfilled her every wish, he bought her whatever she wanted, dolls, dogs, birds, books.
Thus the girl grew up without ever knowing the ugly face of the lack of concern, because the parents thought of everything and ensured that in good time.
In all of their love for their only daughter the couple also found their own love. When the father saw the daughter, then he thought: "She is a part of my good-hearted woman, which I love so much ..' And the mother felt the same.
When the mother saw her daughter she thought, 'She has so much from him whom I love so much. "
The parents employed the best teachers at their house to educate her daughter and over the years she grew from a young daughter to a young woman who would soon leave the house of the parents to lead a life of her own.
On her 18 birthday, the man took his wife to the side and said. 'Dear wife, our daughter has become with the present day adult. We have given her all what parents could give a daughter. All that is left is we must still give her her own life."
"I think just the same," she said firmly, and seized his hand. "Let us speak with our daughter."
They went to their daughter, who was in her room reading a book. "Daughter? We need to talk with you."
The daughter looked up briefly with a loathly grimace. "See ye not that I read? I don't want to be disturbed" Then she turned around and turned her back to her parents.
The father spoke again. "Dear daughter, you're grown up now. We give thee with a heavy heart today the freedom of adult life." The daughter had previously blocked her ears, and so she didn't notice as the parents boldly began to pack the suitcases of their daughter.
The mother brought the suitcase before the door of the house and the father wore his beloved daughter over the threshold of her father's home. Then they locked the door and began to smile.
"That's it, free again." They fell into the arms and cheered. The happiness of a childless love came over them once again.
As the daughter had read through her book, it was dark and she slowly got hungry. She sat up and looked around and saw that she was outside of the house in front of the door. Around her were the suitcases.
What game could that be? She cried after her parents and rang the doorbell, but nobody opened the door. Finally, she hammered annoyed with fist against the door to express her displeasure.
Suddenly on the first floor a window opened and the face of her teacher appeared.
"Your parents tell you that you have now become of age and therefore receive the gift of freedom."
"Then I have birthday today? Where is my birthday cake?", The daughter happily hopped up and down.
"There will be no cake today," the teacher looked affected and shrugged his shoulders.
"You find in the suitcases all you need to get along." The window was closed.
The young woman understood that she was locked out and began to cry. She sat in front of the door and cried hour by hour.
Finally, she went under the window of her parents and wailed, "Year after year, I was your daughter. I was never alone and I never had to struggle because you had already thought of everything. But now you let me alone and no one will think of me anymore? Why dear parents, why have you just done that? Wasn't I a good daughter, why for the world did you say nothing? Because you believed that it would be my wish to hurt you? " But nobody answered.
Then came a young man the road along with a horse-driven carriage who saw the girl crying. He stopped his car and shouted. "Hey, you there. What do you have? Why do you cry?"
But the young woman did not reply.
The young man dismounted, went over to her and looked at all the suitcases. "So you're probably a servant who was thrown on the street? Well, you're possibly pregnant?"
But the young woman did not reply.
"I will take you with me," said the young man. "My mother is looking for a servant and you will please her just right as any other, if you only behave properly. "
The young woman sobbed and gave no further response. The man carried her suitcases to his car. And finally, he wore the young woman like a wet sack over his shoulder and placed her gently on the bank next to coach.
So they traveled for hours and the young woman didn't stop to weep, but she sobbed and whimpered no longer and her grief had become more silent.
Finally, the young man turned into a farm and a tough female voice welcomed him. "Where do you come from now? Have you wasted time again?"
"Look, mother", said the young man" I have found a maid. Your last one has run away."
The mother looked with large eyes at the young woman saw that she cried and said. "She certainly will work nothing like she howls. But if you already have brought her, then bring her into the garret. And you - you strange one. Whoever does not work, will get nothing to eat."
The young woman seemed not to notice what happened around her and the resolute mother had already turned and was gone
So there was the young woman as a maid at the farmers and she learned everything she needed as a maid. She milked the cows and wept. She washed the clothes and wept. She quietly ate the bread that she had baked and wept. She never gave an answer and now and then a tear ran down her cheek.
The farmer was not interested because she had a heart of stone and only the young man asked himself, which was probably the secret behind the tears of the young woman. His whole life long, he had never heard a dear word from his dear mother and he could recall how had cried a lot in his childhood.
But the tears were gone, as he once had asked his mother, "mother, do you love me?"
The mother had given him a firm look and replied, "Love - what is it? Who does not work gets nothing to eat. You get to eat and do work that is everything you can ever expect from your mother. And remember. I have not called you to come into my life. Now you do not bubble to me any requests. " Then his mother had turned and was gone.
'Work, eating", he had thought.
One day the young man came back to the house of the parents of the young woman. He stopped the car and knocked on the door. The mother opened and he asked, "Good woman, why did you once throw your maid out of the house?"
"No, we never had a maid, although I come into an age where I might need a good maid. We have a daughter, who we loved dearly, but she left us being of age. We gave her all and could give only one gift to her - freedom. "
"Your daughter is now with me," said the young man
"Maybe she be where she wants to be. Who cares? I'm not," said the mother saucy. "We anticipated her every wish, but she did not pay the love back. Year after year, she became more grumpy and unbearable. Once I have asked my daughter whether she loved me?"
'Love you, certainly I love you. "
"And why?" I asked
"Because, because .. and then, she considered a long time, because you always give me what I would like to have?"
"And if I wanted something from you, dear daughter would you give it to me?"
"No, because I have nothing except what you give me. What should I give you?"
"She didn't love me because she didn't want to give me nothing in return. Maybe she be, where ever she is - I do not care. As a parent, I have fulfilled my duty." She turned her look from the young man and closed the door.
TO BE CONTINUED...
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
RAY GRATZNER OF THE ESOTERICAL JOURNEY is one blogger who inspires profound thoughts and retrospection.
He talks about a lot of meaningful insights in his English blog and also posts them in his German blog. He describes his blog as a site that features:
"Thought and stories about personal freedom, love, life energy and the journey inside."
Visit his German Blog DER WEG IST DAS ZIEL
If you want to read his German version
The blogosphere would not be complete without a philosopher like Ray.
Thanks Ray for contributing this thought provoking story to the Inspirational Book.
I am sure lots of readers will contemplate on its real message.
There once was a girl, who was the only treasure of her parents. The mother loved her daughter very much and she dressed her every day like a little princess, with gorgeous clothes which flattered her skin.
Daily, she brushed the long hair of her child with much love and devotion and she was not tired to pay attention to her child. But from time to time she sighed and said, 'child, to be a mother is both joy and sorrow."
The father too loved his daughter very much. He cared less than the mother to change the appearance of the girl. Rather, he gave her a great deal of attention and fulfilled her every wish, he bought her whatever she wanted, dolls, dogs, birds, books.
Thus the girl grew up without ever knowing the ugly face of the lack of concern, because the parents thought of everything and ensured that in good time.
In all of their love for their only daughter the couple also found their own love. When the father saw the daughter, then he thought: "She is a part of my good-hearted woman, which I love so much ..' And the mother felt the same.
When the mother saw her daughter she thought, 'She has so much from him whom I love so much. "
The parents employed the best teachers at their house to educate her daughter and over the years she grew from a young daughter to a young woman who would soon leave the house of the parents to lead a life of her own.
Photo by willgame
On her 18 birthday, the man took his wife to the side and said. 'Dear wife, our daughter has become with the present day adult. We have given her all what parents could give a daughter. All that is left is we must still give her her own life."
"I think just the same," she said firmly, and seized his hand. "Let us speak with our daughter."
They went to their daughter, who was in her room reading a book. "Daughter? We need to talk with you."
The daughter looked up briefly with a loathly grimace. "See ye not that I read? I don't want to be disturbed" Then she turned around and turned her back to her parents.
The father spoke again. "Dear daughter, you're grown up now. We give thee with a heavy heart today the freedom of adult life." The daughter had previously blocked her ears, and so she didn't notice as the parents boldly began to pack the suitcases of their daughter.
The mother brought the suitcase before the door of the house and the father wore his beloved daughter over the threshold of her father's home. Then they locked the door and began to smile.
"That's it, free again." They fell into the arms and cheered. The happiness of a childless love came over them once again.
As the daughter had read through her book, it was dark and she slowly got hungry. She sat up and looked around and saw that she was outside of the house in front of the door. Around her were the suitcases.
What game could that be? She cried after her parents and rang the doorbell, but nobody opened the door. Finally, she hammered annoyed with fist against the door to express her displeasure.
Suddenly on the first floor a window opened and the face of her teacher appeared.
"Your parents tell you that you have now become of age and therefore receive the gift of freedom."
"Then I have birthday today? Where is my birthday cake?", The daughter happily hopped up and down.
"There will be no cake today," the teacher looked affected and shrugged his shoulders.
"You find in the suitcases all you need to get along." The window was closed.
The young woman understood that she was locked out and began to cry. She sat in front of the door and cried hour by hour.
Finally, she went under the window of her parents and wailed, "Year after year, I was your daughter. I was never alone and I never had to struggle because you had already thought of everything. But now you let me alone and no one will think of me anymore? Why dear parents, why have you just done that? Wasn't I a good daughter, why for the world did you say nothing? Because you believed that it would be my wish to hurt you? " But nobody answered.
Photo by jenny downing
Then came a young man the road along with a horse-driven carriage who saw the girl crying. He stopped his car and shouted. "Hey, you there. What do you have? Why do you cry?"
But the young woman did not reply.
The young man dismounted, went over to her and looked at all the suitcases. "So you're probably a servant who was thrown on the street? Well, you're possibly pregnant?"
But the young woman did not reply.
"I will take you with me," said the young man. "My mother is looking for a servant and you will please her just right as any other, if you only behave properly. "
The young woman sobbed and gave no further response. The man carried her suitcases to his car. And finally, he wore the young woman like a wet sack over his shoulder and placed her gently on the bank next to coach.
So they traveled for hours and the young woman didn't stop to weep, but she sobbed and whimpered no longer and her grief had become more silent.
Photo by mando2003us
Finally, the young man turned into a farm and a tough female voice welcomed him. "Where do you come from now? Have you wasted time again?"
"Look, mother", said the young man" I have found a maid. Your last one has run away."
The mother looked with large eyes at the young woman saw that she cried and said. "She certainly will work nothing like she howls. But if you already have brought her, then bring her into the garret. And you - you strange one. Whoever does not work, will get nothing to eat."
The young woman seemed not to notice what happened around her and the resolute mother had already turned and was gone
So there was the young woman as a maid at the farmers and she learned everything she needed as a maid. She milked the cows and wept. She washed the clothes and wept. She quietly ate the bread that she had baked and wept. She never gave an answer and now and then a tear ran down her cheek.
The farmer was not interested because she had a heart of stone and only the young man asked himself, which was probably the secret behind the tears of the young woman. His whole life long, he had never heard a dear word from his dear mother and he could recall how had cried a lot in his childhood.
But the tears were gone, as he once had asked his mother, "mother, do you love me?"
The mother had given him a firm look and replied, "Love - what is it? Who does not work gets nothing to eat. You get to eat and do work that is everything you can ever expect from your mother. And remember. I have not called you to come into my life. Now you do not bubble to me any requests. " Then his mother had turned and was gone.
'Work, eating", he had thought.
One day the young man came back to the house of the parents of the young woman. He stopped the car and knocked on the door. The mother opened and he asked, "Good woman, why did you once throw your maid out of the house?"
"No, we never had a maid, although I come into an age where I might need a good maid. We have a daughter, who we loved dearly, but she left us being of age. We gave her all and could give only one gift to her - freedom. "
"Your daughter is now with me," said the young man
"Maybe she be where she wants to be. Who cares? I'm not," said the mother saucy. "We anticipated her every wish, but she did not pay the love back. Year after year, she became more grumpy and unbearable. Once I have asked my daughter whether she loved me?"
'Love you, certainly I love you. "
"And why?" I asked
"Because, because .. and then, she considered a long time, because you always give me what I would like to have?"
"And if I wanted something from you, dear daughter would you give it to me?"
"No, because I have nothing except what you give me. What should I give you?"
"She didn't love me because she didn't want to give me nothing in return. Maybe she be, where ever she is - I do not care. As a parent, I have fulfilled my duty." She turned her look from the young man and closed the door.
TO BE CONTINUED...
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
RAY GRATZNER OF THE ESOTERICAL JOURNEY is one blogger who inspires profound thoughts and retrospection.
He talks about a lot of meaningful insights in his English blog and also posts them in his German blog. He describes his blog as a site that features:
"Thought and stories about personal freedom, love, life energy and the journey inside."
Visit his German Blog DER WEG IST DAS ZIEL
If you want to read his German version
The blogosphere would not be complete without a philosopher like Ray.
Thanks Ray for contributing this thought provoking story to the Inspirational Book.
I am sure lots of readers will contemplate on its real message.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Our First Christmas Away From Home
By: CORINE LEI MANANGAN GONZALES
We used to dream of a white Christmas when we were still in the Philippines especially when we were kids.
But now that we are here in the US, it seems that the snow would not compensate for the unparalleled Christmas spirit that only the Philippines has.
Here, it’s really fun to feel the snowflakes coming down your cheeks, make angel wings on the snow-covered ground and throw snow balls at each other.
We could hardly wait to make a snowman for our little boy — he’s only six months old now but he seems to appreciate the snow already.
However, playing with snow makes us miss "halo-halo" even more…
Despite the snow fun, we still wish to come home for Christmas in the coming years.
There, the holiday season starts as early as September. In which time, the Christmas countdown begins and many already put up their Christmas trees and decorate the outdoors with lots of lights and "parol" which is an authentic pinoy Christmas lantern .
What we miss even more is the simbang gabi — we don’t usually get to complete the 9-day dawn masses but it’s always worth the try. That’s when you’d really enjoy eating puto bumbong and bibingka.
It’s also fun to see little kids all over the streets at night singing carols from one house to another hoping to get even just a few coins.
But on top of it all, it’s being with the entire family during noche buena that makes Pinoy Christmas extra special.
(
Corine, husband dudz and son)
However, the family is only the second most essential element of the season. Most important of all, it’s this time of the year (and preferably all the other 364 days too) when we remember to give what is due to the REASON FOR THE SEASON.
After all, it’s His birthday that we celebrate.
Writing this blog makes me realize that though we definitely miss spending Christmas back home, the right place for Christmas is actually deep inside our hearts where our Lord resides.
So, let me be the first one to greet all of you an advance Merry Christmas !!!
and happy birthday to you Lord!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ma'am Corine as fondly called by her former students is a soft spoken but determined young woman who had decided to migrate abroad to New Mexico with her hubby - Dudz.
Looking at her petite frame, one would not guess that she had been a competent college instructor and has several educational degrees tucked under her belt - MS Micro, BSMT and is now an ASCP board passer.
Ma'am Corz, thanks for accepting the invitation to guest post in my blog.
It has been a pleasure having you here; and I hope this will not be the last.
Good luck and God bless!
We used to dream of a white Christmas when we were still in the Philippines especially when we were kids.
But now that we are here in the US, it seems that the snow would not compensate for the unparalleled Christmas spirit that only the Philippines has.
Here, it’s really fun to feel the snowflakes coming down your cheeks, make angel wings on the snow-covered ground and throw snow balls at each other.
We could hardly wait to make a snowman for our little boy — he’s only six months old now but he seems to appreciate the snow already.
However, playing with snow makes us miss "halo-halo" even more…
Despite the snow fun, we still wish to come home for Christmas in the coming years.
There, the holiday season starts as early as September. In which time, the Christmas countdown begins and many already put up their Christmas trees and decorate the outdoors with lots of lights and "parol" which is an authentic pinoy Christmas lantern .
What we miss even more is the simbang gabi — we don’t usually get to complete the 9-day dawn masses but it’s always worth the try. That’s when you’d really enjoy eating puto bumbong and bibingka.
It’s also fun to see little kids all over the streets at night singing carols from one house to another hoping to get even just a few coins.
But on top of it all, it’s being with the entire family during noche buena that makes Pinoy Christmas extra special.
(
Corine, husband dudz and son)However, the family is only the second most essential element of the season. Most important of all, it’s this time of the year (and preferably all the other 364 days too) when we remember to give what is due to the REASON FOR THE SEASON.
After all, it’s His birthday that we celebrate.
Writing this blog makes me realize that though we definitely miss spending Christmas back home, the right place for Christmas is actually deep inside our hearts where our Lord resides.
So, let me be the first one to greet all of you an advance Merry Christmas !!!
and happy birthday to you Lord!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ma'am Corine as fondly called by her former students is a soft spoken but determined young woman who had decided to migrate abroad to New Mexico with her hubby - Dudz.
Looking at her petite frame, one would not guess that she had been a competent college instructor and has several educational degrees tucked under her belt - MS Micro, BSMT and is now an ASCP board passer.
Ma'am Corz, thanks for accepting the invitation to guest post in my blog.
It has been a pleasure having you here; and I hope this will not be the last.
Good luck and God bless!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
A Linky Love From Eric S.
photo by lilivaniliI have recieved this Linky Love from ERIC S of Ruminations of a Small Town Mountain Boy. Thanks Eric, and just like you, I'm very slow with memes and tags. Eric S was handed down the link love by Vixens Den who had received the award fromMommyingOnTheFly. I invite anyone who wants to take the tag. As Eric said, it could increase your technorati . According to Eric, do not replace, just keep on adding!. Add five links, and be sure to let them know.*The benefits of Viral Linking:
According to our Mountain Boy:
"It is one of the fastest ways to see your Technorati authority explode!
Increase your Google Page Rank fast
Attract a large volume of new traffic to your site
Build your community."
Make new friends!Linky Love Tag:
The Strategist NotebookLink
Laura Williams Musings
Confessions of an Everyday Housewife
Blah Blah Blog
Stop the Ride!
Soap, Blings & Girly Things
Amanda:Mama’s Musings
An Ordinary Life
The Zen of motherhood
Atomik Kitten
The Sassy Southerner
A Room of Mama’s Own
Exploring Autumn
Mommying On The Fly
The Rocky Mountain Retreat
Peace is Every Step
Life According to Lizzy
Vixen’s Den
Red Sox Mommy
The Dirty Shirt
Lala Girl Reviews
Got Multiples?
Grandmother Wren
Ruminations of a Small Town Boy
Will Think For Wine
Red Pine Mountain
San Diego Backroads
The Big Picture – A Novel
Gewgaw Writings
The Senator’s Daughter
Maggie’s Mind
Lilly’s Life
Jena Isles Mixed Bag Freebies
The Esoterical Journey
Caught in the Stream
Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff
HotMomma
The Spitting Vessel
Tasha's Take
Enjoy blog hopping. Happy blogging!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Blessed Martin And The Fridge
By: KEN ARMSTRONG
Blessed Martin De Porres was very big in our house when I was a boy.
My mother was certainly a fan but it was my granny who liked him most of all. She even subscribed to his magazine every month.
Granny was always solid in her beliefs. She had faith in lots of things but she had especially large amounts of faith in Blessed Martin.
She would send her prayers through him and offer up her setbacks to him and she always gave him credit when things went right.
As time passed, 'Blessed Martin' became 'Saint Martin' and granny became quite old.
She couldn't get out of the house like she used to but she had her little St. Martin statue on the mantelpiece and he was company enough for her (as well as Granddad, of course).
During one Sunday afternoon visit, my Mum remarked that St. Martin was absent from his perch above the fire. She asked where he had got to.
"You know," said granny, "how the wee light that comes on when you open the fridge door has stopped working."
Mum wondered what this had to do with St. Martin.
"Well," said Gran, "I just put him in there to see if he might fix it."
I went to look. Sure enough, there was St. Martin, comfortably positioned between the eggs and the milk, having a 'go' at the fridge-door light.
Many years , I still have a smile over St. Martin being in the fridge but I often feel quite envious too. Ten years before she died, Granny was badly burned in a house fire. Her injuries were so severe that it was thought unlikely that she could survive. But, as with everything else, she prayed through St. Martin and offered up her setbacks to him and, despite all her burns and her skin-grafts and her pain, she prevailed.
My Granny didn't put her little statue in the fridge because she was old or feeble or naive. She did it because she had solid unquestioning faith in what she believed.
This same faith undoubtedly went on to save her life.
So although I can smile at Granny's faith, I can envy it too. I can wish that I sometimes had a little bit of it for myself.
I can't say that I would put St. Martin in my fridge if the little light went out but I can say I look up to my Granny, who did.
And in Granny's house that day many years ago, the fridge light was all fixed and working again by the time we went home.
You might say that somebody nipped out and jiggled it when nobody was looking.
You might well be right.
I like to think Blessed Martin took a hand.
@Ken Armstrong 2008
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KEN ARMSTRONG needs no elaborate introduction as he is now a known writer in the blogging community; talk about the first Entrecard Comment Rush -Music and Driving
that earned him 170 comments!
Blessed Martin De Porres was very big in our house when I was a boy.
My mother was certainly a fan but it was my granny who liked him most of all. She even subscribed to his magazine every month.
Granny was always solid in her beliefs. She had faith in lots of things but she had especially large amounts of faith in Blessed Martin.
She would send her prayers through him and offer up her setbacks to him and she always gave him credit when things went right.
As time passed, 'Blessed Martin' became 'Saint Martin' and granny became quite old.
She couldn't get out of the house like she used to but she had her little St. Martin statue on the mantelpiece and he was company enough for her (as well as Granddad, of course).
During one Sunday afternoon visit, my Mum remarked that St. Martin was absent from his perch above the fire. She asked where he had got to.
"You know," said granny, "how the wee light that comes on when you open the fridge door has stopped working."
Mum wondered what this had to do with St. Martin.
"Well," said Gran, "I just put him in there to see if he might fix it."
I went to look. Sure enough, there was St. Martin, comfortably positioned between the eggs and the milk, having a 'go' at the fridge-door light.
Many years , I still have a smile over St. Martin being in the fridge but I often feel quite envious too. Ten years before she died, Granny was badly burned in a house fire. Her injuries were so severe that it was thought unlikely that she could survive. But, as with everything else, she prayed through St. Martin and offered up her setbacks to him and, despite all her burns and her skin-grafts and her pain, she prevailed.
My Granny didn't put her little statue in the fridge because she was old or feeble or naive. She did it because she had solid unquestioning faith in what she believed.
This same faith undoubtedly went on to save her life.
So although I can smile at Granny's faith, I can envy it too. I can wish that I sometimes had a little bit of it for myself.
I can't say that I would put St. Martin in my fridge if the little light went out but I can say I look up to my Granny, who did.
And in Granny's house that day many years ago, the fridge light was all fixed and working again by the time we went home.
You might say that somebody nipped out and jiggled it when nobody was looking.
You might well be right.
I like to think Blessed Martin took a hand.
@Ken Armstrong 2008
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KEN ARMSTRONG needs no elaborate introduction as he is now a known writer in the blogging community; talk about the first Entrecard Comment Rush -Music and Driving
that earned him 170 comments!
His style of writing would bring sunshine into a gloomy day. Witty, biting and excellently crafted, his personal stories and articles can make even the most reserved person, break into a smile.
This story was published already in Ken's blog last April, but I wanted to post it just the same as it's one inspiring story that talks about the amazing miracles that great faith can do. Incidentally, this is the second time Ken has guested in this blog. The first was when I invited him to share one of his interesting, unique short stories - entitled - Still Stupid After All These Years. Read this story if you still haven't, and know how he can make your day!
The "Inspirational Stories of Bloggers All Over the World" would not be complete without your story Ken. Thanks so much for allowing me to share this in the up-coming book.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)