An Ice Cream in a Cafe

 The other day there I was heading down the top of a little street in my home town. I passed the cafe where I had a coke with "Lulu and the Luvers " just after they had there biggest hit, "Shout". I remember the day well not because I was with them but simply because it was a pretty interesting year in so many ways and this was just one of the little things from that year that has stayed with me.

It is still a cafe but it seems now to be so much more about meals and even at my age I would have fitted in well with the clientele that now frequent the place. In my youth it was all about the gathering place of youth. There was a juke box and cokes and loads of space to meet and chat. 

I was remembering some of those moments and some of the people I met with and thought happy days. Those were the days when you could take a date to the pictures have a beer and still have change from  a ten shilling note.

This reminded me of this true and inspiring little story.

A young  boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.

“How much is an ice cream sundae?”

“Two shillings,” replied the waitress.

The young boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.

“How much is a dish of plain ice cream?” he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.

“One shilling and six pence,” she said brusquely.

The young boy again counted the coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed.

When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw.

There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, was six pence – her tip.

I will do the math for those who do not know the old money. He could have purchased his preferred choice but had done the calculations taking account of leaving a tip. 

This is not about tipping or not this is a tale about a young man who did not think only about himself, but of others. 

Love shared is never lost. I am sure that waitress learned that lesson that day. 

Have a wonderful and may your caring heart bring rich rewards. 

Two Little Tales.

I hope everybody had a wonderful day yesterday. I spent my day with friends and family and had a relaxing though tiring day. 

Like all times when people get together who do not see each other as often as we should or would like there are always the memories of things that brought laughter art the time.

Today I am simply going to share two very true tales that still bring a smile to my face. I hope that in the sharing of them they also start what can often be a very flat day after the bustle of Christmas.

Both tales are very true .

The first happened at a party.

One  of the boys attending the party was talking to a girl. "Isn't the head teacher a bit of a twit?" he said to the girl.

"Do you know who I am?" inquired the girl.

"No," replied the boy.

"I am the head teachers daughter," replied the girl.

"And do you know who I am ?" asked the boy.

"No, " she uttered.

"Well that is good," said the boy and strode off with a sigh of relief.

I know this is true because I happened to be the boy.

I will never forget the day I met for the first time Harry, a small boy with an impish sense of humour. 

He was trying to reach up and ring a doorbell when I was passing him. He tried about three times to jump up and ring the bell, each time missing it. 

After watching his efforts as I approached the spot where he was I reached over and pressed the bell twice a good solid ring. 

Crouching down to Harrys level I smiled and said to him, "What now little man?"

To which Harry replied, "I don't know about you mister but I am running."

I , after all those years have never ever learned to think through before opening my mouth or offering a helping hand and over the years both have often got me into difficulty. You would think we would learn.

Go with care and have a wonderful day.

Christmas

I do not expect many people will be looking to read a blog today so I will keep this one short and to the point. I hope all my friends do indeed have a wonderful and very happy day today.

If our hopes for the day are simple and filled with thoughts of others it will indeed be a very happy day. 

Like the boy in this true little story.

It was Christmas  Day and the church was having its Christmas day family service. Rev John, the minister, was looking at the nativity scene outside when he noticed the baby Jesus was missing from the figures.

Immediately, his thoughts turned to calling in the local policeman but as he was about to do so, he saw little Nathan with a red wagon, and in the wagon was the figure of the little infant, Jesus. 

Rev. John approached Nathan and asked him, "Well, Nathan, where did you get the little infant?"

Nathan looked up, smiled and replied, "I took him from the church."

"And why did you take him?" 

With a sheepish grin, Nathan said, "Well, Sir, about a week before Christmas I prayed to Lord Jesus. I told him if he would bring me a red wagon for Christmas, I would give him a ride around the block in it."

Have a wonderful Christmas.

The Gift.

The Gift.

I remember very clearly the day I painted my hands. Well to be honest I had painted them often enough before but only accidentally in the process of producing a painting. This time I sat down with some pastels and looked at my  own hands and made an effort to paint them.

I did not find it simple but I was quite pleased with the end result. Even more so when it was purchased by the partner of a blind person. She described them in every detail to him. Hands meant so much more to a blind person than we ever stop to think.

Today there will be loads of children whose minds are full of the thoughts od gifts and the expectations will be very high. 

But the story of a present  from a little lad to his favourite teacher is the story of a gift I like best. It is what he did with his hands and the words he shared. I am sure some have heard it before but I think this is the day to hear it again. My apologies it is a bit longer but worth a read I think.

I will write just as I first read it years ago as told by the teacher.

Matthew was a 10 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter, middle aged woman greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister's son.  She never failed to remind young Matthew, if it hadn't been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant, homeless waif.  Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.

I had not noticed Matthew particularly until he began staying after class each day [at the risk of arousing his aunt's anger so I learned later] to help me straighten up the room.  We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day.  When we did talk, Matthew spoke mostly of his mother.  Though he was quite young when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman who always spent time with him.

As Christmas drew near however, Matthew failed to stay after school each day.  I looked forward to his coming, and when the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and asked him why he no longer helped me in the room.  I told him how I had missed him, and his large brown eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, "Did you really miss me?"

I explained how he had been my best helper, "I was making you a surprise," he whispered confidentially.  "It's for Christmas." 

With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room.  He didn't stay after school any more after that.

Finally came the last school day before Christmas.  Matthew crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back.  "I have your present," he said timidly when I looked up.  "I hope you like it."  He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden box.

"It's beautiful, Matthew.  Is there something in it?" I asked opening the top to look inside.

 "Oh you can't see what's in it," he replied, "and you can't touch it, or taste it or feel it, but mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights and safe when you're all alone."

I gazed into the empty box.  "What is it, Matthew" I asked gently, "that will make me feel so good?"

"It's love," he whispered softly, "and mother always said it's best when you give it away." He turned and quietly left the room.

So now I keep a small box crudely made of scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile when inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them there is love in it.

There are lots of gifts we can give but the greatest gift of all is love. 

Busy day for me today spent mainly in front of the  cooker but that is a place I love being and when I am cooking for my family I like it even more. 

Have a lovely day.

Dear God.

I am still in shock from yesterdays events. My hair seems to grow at a rate of knots and I do rather enjoy when it is long. In this cold winter it is nice to have a good head of hair but family and friends kept telling me that down over my shoulder was going a bit too far and it made me look old. 

So yesterday i took the bull by the horn and had a haircut. The pleasant girl who cut it must have been friends with my wife because i was wondering when she was going to stop cutting. The floor around the chair looked as if it had a coating of snow when she eventually asked me what i thought.

Not only was I lost of hair I was lost for words. The good thing is that there is only a week or so between a bad haircut and a good one.  Now I am not saying for one minute this is a bad haircut, ask my wife about that. She is convinced I lost ten years in one afternoon.

So a story about another loss put right.

A letter arrived at the post office sorting office addressed only , To God. 

The postmaster opened it and read.

Dear God,

I am an 93 year old widow living on the State pension.  Yesterday someone stole my purse.  It had £100 in it, which was all the money I had in the world and no pension due until after Christmas.  

Next week is Christmas and I had invited two of my friends over for Christmas lunch.  Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with.  I have no family to turn to, and you are my only hope.  God; can you please help me?

The postmaster was really touched, and being kind hearted, he put a copy of the letter up on the staff notice board at the main  sorting office where he worked.  The letter touched the other postmen and they all dug into their pockets and had a whip round.  Between them they raised £95. 

Using an officially franked Post Office envelope, they sent the cash on to the old lady, and for the rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of the nice thing they had done.

Christmas came and went.  A few days later, another letter simply addressed to 'God' landed in the Sorting Office.  Many of the postmen gathered around while George opened the letter.  It read,

Dear God, 

How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of your generosity, I was able to provide a lovely luncheon for my friends.  We had a very nice day, and I told my friends of your wonderful gift, in fact we haven't got over it and even Father John, our parish priest, is beside himself with joy.  

By the way, there was £5 missing.  I think it must have been those thieving fellows at the Post Office.

George could not help musing on Oscar Wilde's quote, one my good friend quotes to me often. 

 "A good deed never goes unpunished"

But never let that put you off. My father always agreed 100% with the Boy Scout promise to do a good deed every day. 

Strangely they never went unrewarded with the joy they brought.

Have a great day I am off to look for my hat I think I might need it today. 

Have you been a good boy?

I overheard a conversation in the shop yesterday between  a young boy and an old lady from the village. She was having a very serious conversation with the boy about what he was wanting from Santa for his Christmas. The young lad, like every other child that age began to list off a whole load of things he had on his list. 

The old lady listened patiently and then asked if he had been a good boy all year. The boy thought for a moment and answered in all honesty that he had not been good all the time but that most of the time he was.

The old lady thought for a moment and said, "I have a feeling Santa will forgive those mistakes, and because you were honest about them he will be good to you." Off she went with her messages leaving the young lad with a huge smile. 

As I left the shop I looked at the young boy and his mother and was glad that I was not the one having to fulfil the expectations of that list.

The incident did remind me of another story and a true one I heard as a minister. 

Daisy and her thirteen-year-old sister, Mia, had been fighting a great deal during the last year. This often can happen when you combine a strong-willed two-year-old, who is sure she is always right, with a young adolescent.

Daisy's parents, trying to take advantage of her newfound interest in Santa Claus, reminded the two-year-old that Santa was watching and he was unhappy when he saw children argue and fight. This had little impact on little Mia who really did not understand.

The mother saw this as a chance to do a little educating.

"I'll just have to tell Santa about your misbehaviour," the mother said as she picked up the phone and dialled. Mia's eyes grew big as her mother asked, "Mrs. Claus?' [it was really Daisy and Mia's aunt as Santa's real line was busy] if she could put Santa on the line. 

Mia's mouth dropped even further open her mother described to Santa [Mia's uncle] how the two-year-old was acting. When her mother told Mia that Santa wanted to talk to her, she reluctantly took the phone.

Santa, speaking in a deep voice, explained to Mia how there would be no presents Christmas morning to children who fought with their sisters. He would be watching, and he expected things to be better from now on.

Mia, now even more wide eyed, solemnly nodded to each of Santa's remarks and silently hung the phone up when he was done. 

After a short while, the mother [trying hard not to laugh at being so clever] asked Mia, "What did Santa say to you, darling?"

In almost a whisper, Mia, sadly but matter-of-factly stated, "Mummy, Santa said he won't be bringing any toys to Daisy this year."

Now I wonder what lesson was learned from this little experiment? I think it has to be the simple lesson of life, do not try to be too smart with children.

I just have to ask, "Have you all been good this year?" 

Have a wonderful day. 

Just a little word.

As the days move onward it is more difficult to not become engrossed in the whole thing of Christmas. The media tries hard, though in my humble opinion fail, to make the schedules more exciting. 

When I see the exciting things about to come on over the actual Christmas days and up to the New Year I really do like just pulling the plug and forgetting about television. In fact that is exactly what I will be doing.

This complaining of mind reminds me of another story.

At a monastery high in the mountains, the monks have a rigid vow of silence. Only at Christmas, and only by one monk, and only with one sentence, is the vow allowed to be broken. 

One Christmas, Brother Thomas is allowed to speak and he says, "I like the mashed potatoes we have with the Christmas turkey!" and he sits down. Silence ensues for 365 days. 

The next Christmas, Brother Michael gets his turn, and he says, "I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy and I hate them!" 

Once again, silence for 366 days (it's leap year). The following Christmas, Brother Paul rises and says, "I am fed up with this constant bickering!"

I suppose when something only happens once a year you do only want good news so maybe I like many others should remain quiet and let others enjoy.

But I still remember the little boy who was making sure that he was going to enjoy it all.

Two young boys were spending the Christmas at their grandparents. At bedtime, the two boys knelt beside their beds to say their prayers when the youngest one began praying at the top of his lungs. 

"I PRAY FOR A NEW BICYCLE... 

I PRAY FOR A NEW BICYCLE... 

I PRAY FOR A NEW BICYCLE..." 

His older brother leaned over and nudged the younger brother and said, "Why are you shouting your prayers? God isn't deaf." 

To which the little brother replied, "No, but Grandma is!"

Loads of things to begin preparing I hope you have a wonderful day and a little smile to start it off. 

Proposal on a Caravan Site.

I was out walking yesterday, a walk I had only done once before with a friend. My wife was with me and although she assures me there is absolutely nothing wrong with her memory, I claim I could never make, she still put doubt into my minds about the path we should be following.

Fortunately for me one of the tricks my does not play on me is the ability to remember a walking route after just one walk. I suppose years and years or running has trained me to pay great attention on a new route for those little way markers, like a specific tree with an unforgettable twist.

But memory does play tricks on us all. But then if you cannot remember a route then every walk can be a new one. It is I suppose not so much the memory but the attitude.

There is a lovely tale of the old couple who met in the restaurant on a caravan park. They had been going to the same place year after year and had got to know each other a bit.

One evening a supper was held in the restaurant  and the two found themselves at the same table, seated across from one another. As the meal progressed, George made several admiring glances at Sheila and he finally gathered his courage to ask her, "Sheila, will you marry me?'

After about five seconds of "careful consideration", Sheila answered. 

"Yes. Yes, I will."

The meal ended and, with a few more pleasant exchanges, then they went to their respective caravans. 

Next morning, George was troubled: "Did she say "yes" or did she say "no"?" He couldn't remember. Try as he would, he just could not recall. Not even a faint memory. 

So it was with some trepidation that he went to the telephone and called Sheila. Firstly, he explained that he didn't remember as well as he used to. Then he reviewed the lovely evening past. As he gained a little more courage, George inquired gingerly, "Sheila, when I asked if you would marry me, did you say "Yes" or did you say "No"?"

George was delighted to hear her Sheila say, 'Why, I said, "Yes, yes I will" and I meant it with all my heart.' Then she continued, "I am so glad that you called, because I could not for the life of me remember who it was that asked me. 

I am sure every day for those two will be a day to remember, or forget and live again another day. 

Now what is it that is happening soon that i have to get ready for?

I hope you have a marvellous  day. 

The worry tree.

Not seeing much of this at all this year.

It is amazing how easy it is to get into a routine that makes you feel comfortable. I like to get up nice and early and start my day with a nice cup of coffee. 

I then retire to my study and sit and have a little quiet time when I gather my thoughts., look back over the day before and see if I could have made it better for me or for those I met during the course of the day. 

Yesterday ended very well with a very wonderful text message that lifted me no end.

So this morning, I am all out of sorts. My day started later than it should have. I had a sore head, for which there is no apparent reason. Now I am worried that today might be one of those days when I really should just go back to bed. 

Or maybe I should go visit the little tree. It now has some baubles added to it and it seems to be bringing joy to many.

I could maybe make it into my worry tree. Let me explain.

Two men had just finished a rough first day on new  job. It had not started at all well.

A flat tyre made one of them late in the morning and made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now at the end of the day his ancient car  refused to start. His workmate  drove him home. 

On arriving, he invited him in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. 

When opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss. 

Afterward he walked to the car. as they passed  the tree and curiosity got the better of the new workmate. He asked him about what I had seen him do earlier. 

"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again."

"Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick them up, there are not nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

I have just discovered as I sit writing this, the tree does not actually have to exist. In your mind you can parcel up all your troubles and drop them off somewhere. It is also possible to just leave them in the parcel and bother picking them up. 

They used to say, "Remember every day is a school day." But let  me just say every day is a NEW day. 

Hope you have a good one. Or are some still rushing around getting ready for the weekend?

The Last Word.

Yesterday I had a good day with good friends.  We attended the local farmers market where I was able to buy some freshly smoked,  "Smokies".  For those unaware of this delicious delicacy they are haddock still in their skins hung over smoking oak wood to give them a wonderful flavour. All the time you stand and wait for service you can watch the fish being smoked and enjoy the wonderful aroma. 

My pleasure was only lengthened by the number of people who on seeing the length of the Line of waiting customers slipped in to join others they knew further up the line. Just as well it was Christmas I might have put on my grumpy face and complained to them. 

I also purchased some Blue Stilton cheese to take with me when I spend Christmas  with my family.

I had had a lovely walk with the friends who were with me at the market. All in all, a lovely day.

Unlike Will who was returning home from a business trip.

It had been an exhausting trip and he was not in a good mood.  The airport's Christmas musak was getting him down, and their decorations were tacky. In fact everything was wrong.

As he queued at the check-in desk he was  day-dreaming about the plastic mistletoe hung over the luggage scale.  

Being in a bad mood, he said to the woman at the counter, "You know, even if I weren't married, I wouldn't kiss you."  

That's not what it's there for," said the attendant. "It's so you can kiss your luggage goodbye.

Another example of the fairer sex having the last word.

At another line of customers was Jennifer.

Jennifer was a pretty 18 year old girl.  In the week before Christmas she sauntered up to the counter, and was trying to decide which of the many types of tinsel she would buy.  

Finally, she made her choice and asked the spotty youth who was manning the that section.  "How much is this gold tinsel garland".

The spotty youth pointed to the Christmas mistletoe above the counter and said, "This week we have a special offer, just one kiss per metre".

" Wow, that's great", said Jennifer, "I'll take 12 metres".

With expectation and anticipation written all over his face, the boy measured out the tinsel, wrapped up the garland, and gave it to Jennifer. 

She then called to an old man who had been browsing through the Christmas trees and said, "My Grandpa will settle the bill."

One week to go and so much to do. Have a wonderful even if it may be a busy day.

Just a little shopping.

Not so much a painting but a job half done.

One thing that I really do love about Christmas is the shopping part of the experience. In the last two weeks I have had so much fun indulging this passion I have for shopping. 

I am of course saying this with tongue in cheek. I do in fact enjoy getting people presents but I hate wandering around shops hoping that something will hit me in the eyes as I wander. I really would rather do it in one or two other ways. 

I would rather look at all the possibilities online and then draw up a list and then order the list with the shops where I know I will be able to purchase my choices. I then start at the first and work my way systematically through the list. Not me the list would be on my phone or tablet but a paper list would not break my heart. 

The other much more simple way is to just make the purchase online and wait for it to be delivered. Sadly that does not always work. Yesterday a package I had been told would be delivered today, was changed and was to be delivered yesterday. it had not arrived when I had to go out to meet friends so I had to work all sorts of schemes with notes and plastic bags. I also worry about the waste of packaging. The parcel delivered yesterday would not go in the plastic bag the packaging being about five or six times larger than the actual contents. 

I am aware that loads of people love trailing around shops and losing the person you are with about three times in one session. All part of the fun for some but not for me. 

But there is an amusing side to it all. 

Myra was going to her annual Christmas office party and was sure she needed a new party dress.

So she headed off to have a look and see what she could find. As she passed one of the well known retailers she saw just the dress she was looking for on the model in the window. Problem solved.

She went into the store and spoke to the assistant, "May I try on that dress in the window, please?"

The response was fast. "Certainly not Madam," responded the shop assistant, "You will have to use the fitting room like everybody else."

Or the experience of Ted.

Christmas was fast approaching and Ted had not as yet got anything for his beautiful young wife. It had not been an easy year and he did not have a lot of extra cash but he really did want to have something to give her on Christmas day. 

He had thought long and hard about what to get but on his budget could not come up with any great idea. He went into a well known shop and asked an assistant for help.

"How about some nice perfume? That is something I would always be pleased to receive." 

She selected a bottle from the shelve, costing £75.

"Too expensive," he said.

The young lady appeared with a slightly smaller bottle costing £50. "Oh dear ," said Ted, "still far too much."

Growing rather annoyed at Ted's seeming meanness, the sales girl brought out a tiny bottle costing £10  and offered it to him.

Ted became rather agitated, "What I mean," he said, "is I'd like to see something really cheap."

The sales girl handed him a mirror.

She was obviously unaware of the old saying it is not the value but the thought that matters. 

Off to the farmers market this morning. Now this is shopping I do enjoy and doing it with good friends will be nice.

Have a wonderful day. Only 7 shopping days or so left. 

 Θ

Christmas Humour.

As those who read this know I spent most of my day yesterday with my friends. We had some serious moments when we, as usual, discussed some of the big events of the moment. 

One of my friends is in the process of doing an open university degree studying philosophy so there is never a day that he and I do not get to that topic of discussion at some point.

Yesterday I was waiting for it to come round to that and of course my love of Eastern Philosophy. My friend asked if there was anything in the eastern books on the subject of Christmas. 

So keeping the straightest face I could I told him this little tale.

One beautiful December evening Haun Choo and his beautiful fiancé Jung lee were sitting by the side of a beautiful lake. The moon was full and the scene very romantic. 

Haun Choo turned to his fiancé and said to her, "Lets play  Weeweechu."

"Oh no not just now, let us just enjoy this beautiful romantic scene," said Jung Lee.

They sat for another moment, and again Haun Choo said, "Let us play Weeweechu. I love you and the time is just perfect."

"But I would rather just hold your hand and enjoy this beautiful moon."

"Please Jung Lee, just once, play and we will sing together."

Jung Lee looked him in the eyes and said, "Ok, I will play , Weeweechu."

Jung Lee picked up her guitar and they both sang,

"Weeweechu a merry Christmas, Weeweech a merry Christmas, weeweechu a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year.

As the great philosopher says there is a time to be serious and a time to be cheerful. Now is the time to be cheerful.

I wish you a happy and meaningful day.

The Weather Forecast.

Today I go off to meet with my friends. Once a year instead of us meeting at our usual place we meet up and soak in the atmosphere of our wonderful capital city of Edinburgh.

Normally we meet in Dunfermline and I catch a bus and then a very short walk to the meeting place so the weather plays no part in my thoughts. Today I have looked at the weather forecast to make sure I am properly attired. Seems like it might be a rather pleasant day.

I so not know why I checked the weather forecast I would have been quicker just asking my wife. She pays particular attention to the weather every day no matter what she has planned. 

I often make comment when she tells me that it will rain at 2pm. I cannot resist asking her if the weather knows that this is what the forecaster has predicted.

It is a bit like the story of the American Indians.

One day in early September the chief of a Native American tribe was asked by his tribal elders if the winter was going to be cold or mild.  

The chief in turn asked his medicine man, but he too had lost touch with the reading signs from the natural world around the Great Lakes. 

In truth, neither of them had idea about how to predict the coming winter.  However, the chief decided to take a modern approach, and the rang the National Weather Service in Gaylord Michigan.

Yes, it is going to be a cold winter,' the meteorological officer told the chief.  Consequently, he went back to his tribe and told the men to collect plenty of firewood.

 A fortnight later the chief called the Weather Service and asked for an update. 'Are you still forecasting a cold winter?' he asked. 

"Yes, very cold", the weather officer told him.

As a result of this brief conversation the chief went back to the tribe and told his people to collect every bit of wood they could find.

A month later the chief called the National Weather Service once more and asked about the coming winter. 

"Yes,'"he was told,"'it is going to be one of the coldest winters ever."

"How can you be so sure?" the chief asked. 

The weatherman replied: "Because the Native Americans of the Great Lakes are collecting wood like crazy."

I forecast a wonderful day for you all but do remember this is just a forecast and may not be based on hard cold facts. 

Have a good day.

The lonely Tree.

One lovely sunny day a little red squirrel was sitting at the side of the path listening to the water of the waterfall below and enjoying the sun on his face. He was eating the seeds from a fir cone and the world looked very good and he felt even better with his little tummy full of food.

Once he had finished eating he dropped the remains of the cone among the grass and headed off to find a nice tree to climb where he could have a comfortable little nap and enjoy the rest of the day.

Many months later one of the seeds from the cone that had been left lying began to swell and reach down roots into the soft soil. Then a little shoot began to reach upward looking for the light. It had a very difficult struggle up through the long and thick grass. More than once it had thought of just giving up such a struggle as it was.

Slowly but surely it managed to reach above the grass and began to see the world around it. It looked and looked to see if it could see other trees just like it but there was not single one to see within its sight. It was alone, surrounded by grass and ferns.

It did notice that it was close to a path and now and then people would pass the little tree. Each time it hoped that somebody would notice it and stop and look. But it never did happen.

Then one day two people came along the path. Again the lonely fir tree got ready to watch them pass and take no notice, just like all the others.

But this time they stopped and looked at the little lonely tree. Instead of just passing the man took of his knapsack and reached into it.

Were they here to do some harm to the tree? After all this time of struggle were they about to cut him down?

But no! The man reached into his bag and brought out some shinning tinsel. He came over to the tree and decorated it. He then stood back and did a painting of the little lonely tree with all its tinsel.

For the next few days everybody who passed spoke about the little tree and smiled.

The little lonely tree felt so good and was determined to grow tall and get ready for this time next year when it would once again bring joy to many.

And so it did just that, and each year people decorated the tree and brought smiles and happy words to all who passed its lonely spot.

So, big or small and struggling to be seen remember nobody has never got some joy that they can bring and share.

Have  a wonderful day and be a bringer of Joy.