great blessing of mankind are within us and within our reach; but we
shut our eyes, and like people in the dark, we fall foul upon the very
thing we search for, without finding it. Let's learn from the following
beautiful article inspired by the writings of an unknown author.
the story goes, the
park bench was deserted as I sat down, beneath the long, straggly branches of an
old willow tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for
seemed to drag me down. And if that wasn't enough to ruin my day, a
young boy approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his
head tilted down and said with great excitement, "Look
what I found!" In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
petals all worn- not enough rain, or too little light. Wanting him to take his
dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away.
instead of retreating he sat next to my side and declared with overacted
surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked
it; here, it's for you. "The weed before me was dying or dead, not vibrant of
colors: orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never
So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Thanks, just what I need." But
instead of him placing the flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reason
or plan. It was then that I noticed for the very first time that weed-toting boy
could not see. He was blind.
I heard my voice quiver, tears shone in the sun as I
thanked him for picking the very best one. "You're welcome," he smiled, and then
ran off to play unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and
wondered how he managed to see a self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.
did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps from his heart, he'd been
blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see the problem was not with
the world; the problem was I.
for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in
life, and appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted
flower up to my nose and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his hand, about to change
the life of an unsuspecting old man.
By Tim Pedrosa
take for granted the things that we should be giving thanks for. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money