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Weekly Vitamins for the Soul -- November 29, 2004
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Yali Shi
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Nov 28, 2004 15:46 PST
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Weekly Vitamins for the Soul -- November 29, 2004
The Old Maple and the Fir
Author unknown
The sides of the path were covered with a carpet of white snow. But in
the center, its whiteness was crushed and churned into a foaming brown
by the tramp of hundreds of hurrying feet. It was the day before
Christmas. People rushed up and down the path carrying bundles in their
arms or over their shoulders. They laughed and called to each other as
they pushed their way through the crowds.
Above the path, the long arms of an ancient maple tree reached upward to
the sky. It swayed and moaned as strong winds grasped its branches and
bent them toward the earth. Down below a haughty laugh sounded, and a
lovely fir tree stretched and preened its thick green branches, sending
a fine spray of snow shimmering downward to the ground.
"I should think," said the fir in a high smug voice, "that you'd try a
little harder to stand still. Goodness knows you're ugly enough with the
leaves you've already lost. If you move around anymore, you'll soon be
quite bare."
"I know," answered the old maple. "Everything has put on its most
beautiful clothes for the celebration of the birth of Christ. From here
I can see the decorations shining on each street corner. And yesterday
some men came and put the brightest, loveliest lights on every tree
along the path¡Xexcept me, of course." He sighed softly, and a flake of
snow melted in the form of a teardrop and ran down his gnarled trunk.
"Oh, indeed! And did you expect they'd put lights upon you so your
ugliness would stand out even more?" smirked the fir.
"I guess you're right," replied the old maple in a sad voice. "If there
were only somewhere I could hide until after the celebrations were over,
but here I stand, the only ugly thing among all this beauty. If only
they would come and chop me down," he sighed sorrowfully.
"Well, I don't wish you any ill," replied the fir, "but you are an
eyesore. Perhaps it would be better for us all if they did come and chop
you down." Once again he stretched his lovely thick branches. "You might
try to hang onto those three small leaves you still have. At least you
wouldn't be completely bare."
"Oh, I've tried so hard," cried the old maple. "Each fall I say to
myself, ¡¥This year I won't give up a single leaf, no matter what the
cause,' but someone always comes along who seems to need them more than
I." He sighed once again.
"I told you not to give so many to that dirty little paper boy," said
the fir. "Why, you even lowered your branches a little bit, so that he
could reach them. You can't say I didn't warn you."
"Yes, you did," the old maple replied. "But they made him so happy. I
heard him say he would pick some for his invalid mother."
"Oh, they all had good causes," mocked the fir. "That young girl, for
instance¡Xcolored leaves for her party. Indeed! They were your leaves!"
"She took a lot, didn't she?" said the old maple, and he seemed to
smile.
Just then a cold wind blew down the path and a tiny brown bird fell to
the ground at the foot of the old maple and lay there shivering, too
cold to lift its wings. The old maple looked down in pity and then he
quickly let go of his last three leaves. The golden leaves fluttered
down and settled softly over the shivering little bird, and it lay
quietly under the warmth of them.
"Now you've done it!" shrieked the fir. "You've given away every single
leaf! Christmas morning you'll make our path the ugliest sight in the
whole city!"
The old maple said nothing. Instead he stretched out his branches to
gather what snowflakes he could that they might not fall on the tiny
bird. The young fir turned away in anger. It was then he noticed a
painter sitting quietly a few feet from the path, intent upon his long
brushes and his canvas. His clothes were old and tattered, and his face
wore a sad expression. He was thinking of his loved ones and the empty,
cheerless Christmas morning they would face, for he had sold not a
single painting in the last months.
But the little tree didn't see this. Instead he turned back to the old
maple and said in a haughty voice, "At least keep those bare branches as
far away from me as possible. I'm being painted and your hideousness
will mar the background."
"I'll try," replied the old maple. And he raised his branches as high as
possible. It was almost dark when the painter picked up his easel and
left. And the little fir was tired and cross from all his preening and
posing.
Christmas morning he awoke late, and as he proudly shook away the snow
from his lovely branches, he was amazed to see a huge crowd of people
surrounding the old maple, oohing and ahhing as they stood back and
gazed upward. Even those hurrying along the path had to stop for a
moment before they went on.
"Whatever could it be?" thought the haughty fir, and he too looked up to
see if perhaps the top of the old maple had been broken off during the
night.
Just then a paper blew away from the hands of an enraptured newsboy and
sailed straight into the young fir. The fir gasped in amazement, for
there on the front page was a picture of the painter holding his
painting of a great white tree whose leafless branches, laden with snow,
stretched upward into the sky. While down below lay a tiny brown bird
almost covered by three golden leaves. And beneath the picture were the
words, "The Most Beautiful Thing Is That Which Hath Given All."
The young fir quietly bowed its head beneath the great beauty of the
humble old maple.
* * *
The world says greatness is in having, achieving, and attaining, while
God says greatness is in giving, loving, and helping. The truly humble
are the truly great, for only they give from a pure heart, without
thought for themselves, but only for the need they are filling.¡XNana
Williams
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We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we
give.¡XWinston Churchill
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If there be any truer measure of a man than by what he does, it must be
by what he gives.¡XBishop Robert South
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Look around for a place to sow a few seeds.¡XHenry Van Dyke
* * *
Best Wishes,
Shi Yali
http://www.sunshin.org
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