The Empty Box

Even though it was only September, the air was crisp and children were already whispering about Christmas plans and Santa Claus. It made the already long months until Christmas seem even longer. With each passing day the children became more anxious, waiting for the final school bell. Upon its ringing everyone would run for coats, gloves and the classroom door, racing to see who would be the first one home; everyone except David.


David was a small boy with messy brown hair and tattered clothes. I had often wondered what kind of home life David had and often asked myself what kind of mother could send her son to school dressed so inappropriately for the cold winter months without coat, boots, or gloves. But something made David special. It wasn't his intelligence or manners for they were as lacking as his winter clothes, but I can never recall looking at David and not seeing a smile. He was always willing to help and not a day passed that David didn't stay after school to straighten chairs and clean erasers. We never talked much, he would just simply smile and ask what else he could do, then thank me for letting him stay and slowly head for home.


Weeks passed and the excitement over the coming Christmas grew into restlestness until the last day of school before the holiday break. I can't recall a more anxious group of children as that final bell rang and they scattered out the door. I smiled in relief as the last of them hurried out. Turning around I saw David quietly standing by my desk. "Aren't you anxious to get home David?" I asked. "No", he quietly replied. Ready to go home myself I said, "Well, I think the chairs and erasers will wait, why don't you hurry home. "I have something for you," he said and pulled from behind his back a small box wrapped in old paper and tied with string. Handing it to me he said anxiously, "Open it!" I took the box from him, thanked him and slowly unwrapped it. I lifted the lid and to my surprise saw nothing. I looked at David's smiling face and back into the empty box and said, "The box is nice David, "It's full of love. My mom told me before she died that love was something you couldn't see or touch unless you know it's there. . .  can you see it?" Tears filled my eyes as I looked at the proud dirty face I had rarely given attention to. "Yes, David, I can see it," I replied, "Thank you."


David and I became good friends after that Christmas and I can say that with the passing years, I never again let the uncombed hair or dirty faces bother me, and I never forgot the meaning behind the little empty box that sat on my desk.

Becoming Butterfly - Trina Paulus

One day a grey-haired caterpillar hanging upside down on a branch, surprised Yellow. He seemed caught in some hairy stuff. "You seem in trouble," she said. "Can I help?"

"No, my dear, I have to do this to become a butterfly."

Her whole insides leapt. "Butterfly - that word," she thought. "Tell me, sir, what is a butterfly?"

"It's what you are meant to become. It flies with beautiful wings and joins the earth to heaven. It drinks only the nectar from flowers and carries the seeds of love from one flower to another. Without butterflies the world would soon have few flowers."

"It can't be true!" gasped Yellow. "How can I believe there's a butterfly inside you or me when all I see is fuzzy worm? How does one become a butterfly?"
"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar."

"You mean to die?" asked Yellow, remembering the three who fell out of the sky.

"Yes and no," he answered. "What looks like you will die, but really you will still live. Life is changed, not taken away. Isn't that different from those who die without ever becoming butterflies?"

"And if I decide to become a butterfly," said Yellow hesitantly, "what do I do?"

"Watch me. I'm making a cocoon. It looks like I'm hiding but a cocoon is no escape. It's an in-between house where the change takes place. It's a big step since you can never return to caterpillar life. During the change, it will seem to you and to anyone who might peek that nothing is happening - but a butterfly is becoming."

"It just takes time."

From "Hope For Flowers" by Trina Paulus

Blessed among men

Be more interested in people then in things.
Be unselfish, think wholesome thoughts,
keep a construtive attitude of soul and
your face will become a true reflection of your real self.
You will be a joy to behold to all whom you meet
and pass on your way.
You will be an inspiration and help to all
whose lives are intertwined with yours
in daily communion and daily association.
You will be in deed and in fact "blessed among men."

Blind man's lantern

An English writer tells of a blind man who always carried a lantern.
People would ask of what use the lantern could be to his sightless eyes.
"I do not carry it to prevent my stumbling over others, but to keep them from stumbling over me"
.... Let your light so shine that somebody else will not stumble because of you.

Touch Of The Masters Hand

It was battered and scarred and the auctioneer thought it hardly worth his while
to waste his time on the old violin. Be he held it up with a smile..
"What am I bid good folks, one dollar, now two, and who will make three.
Three dollars once, three dollars twice."
From the room far back, came a gray haired man and picking up the old violin
and tightening up all it's strings played a melody so pure and sweet, sweet as the angels sing.

As the music ceased, the auctioneer with a voice that was soft and low, said
"What am I bid good folks, one thousand dollars, now two, and who will make three.
Three thousand dollars once, three thousand dollars twice, going, going, gone said he."
And the people cheered and some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand what changed it's worth."
It was the touch of the master's hand.

And many a man with life out of tune, battered and scarred with sin
is auctioned off to the foolish crowd much like the old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, a game and he travels on.
Going once, going twice, going and almost gone.
But the master comes and the foolish crowd can never quite understand
the worth of a soul and the change that is wrought by the "Touch of the masters hand."

Whenever your life is out of tune and no melody soothes your soul,
Look the the master whose gentle touch, will bless you and make you whole.

Like an old violin with so little worth, a life may be far less than grand,
But may be transformed in a moment you see,
By the touch of the Master's Hand.

A moments anger...

"He who can suppress a moments anger,      
may prevent a day of sorrow."

Most favorable light

               "Make it a practice to judge persons
and things in the most favorable light
                at all times, in all circumstances."
                                                                            St Vincent de Paul

Improve the world Anne Frank

"How wonderful it is that nobody
               need wait a single moment
       before starting to improve the world."   
                                                            Anne Frank

We love persons....Jacques Maritain

"We don't love qualities,
                    we love persons,
         sometimes by reason of their defects
                           as well as of their qualitites." 
                                                Jacques Maritain

Great perils... Victor Hugo

"Great perils have this beauty,
                   that they bring to light
                             the fraternity of strangers."
                                                  Victor Hugo

I Believe - Walls Cellar

    "I Believe...
          I believe in the sun....
                even when it is not shining.
         I believe in love...
                     even when feeling it not.
     I believe in God...
            even when God is silent."


                        ~Walls Cellar
                                Colagne Germany

Life isn't always fair

"There are certain things

that may never be fully understood

for life isn't always fair...

but it's still pretty darn good."