The three guests.

I was asked a rather strange question last night by a friend. If I could invite anybody to spend a day with me who would you choose? I am still considering the answer to that question.

But it did remind me of a tale that is similar in nature.

A woman came out of her house and saw three old men with long white beards sitting in her front garden. She did not recognize them. She said "I don't think I know you, but you look hungry. Please come in and have something to eat."

"Is the man of the house home?", they asked. "No", she said. "He's out." "Then we cannot come in", they replied.

In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened. "Go tell them I am home and invite them in!" The woman went out and invited the men in. "We do not go into a House together," they replied. "Why is that?" she wanted to know.

One of the old men explained: "His name is Wealth," he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing to another one, "He is Success, and I am Love." Then he added, "Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home."

The woman went in and told her husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed. "How nice!!” he said. "Since that is the case, let us invite Wealth. Let him come and fill our home with wealth!"

His wife disagreed. "My dear, why don't we invite Success?" Their daughter-in-law was listening from the other corner of the house. She jumped in with her own suggestion: "Would it not be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with love!"

"Let us heed our daughter-in-law's advice," said the husband to his wife. "Go out and invite Love to be our guest."

The woman went out and asked the three old men, "Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest."

Love got up and started walking toward the house. The other two also got up and followed him. Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success: "I only invited Love, Why are you coming in?"

The old men replied together: "If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two of us would've stayed out, but since you invited Love, Wherever He goes, we go with him. Wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and Success!"

Where there is pain, we wish you peace and mercy.

Where there is self-doubting, we wish you a renewed confidence in your ability to work through them.

Where there is tiredness or exhaustion, we wish you understanding, patience, and renewed strength.

Where there is fear, we wish you love and courage.  

And I do not think we can offer anything better for our friends than a home filled with the greatest guest of all, Love.

Have a great day.

Get a brolly.

I continue to wonder as I walk that more and more I recall the lessons my father taught me as we walked. I remember so clearly now and yet I might not have remembered those words a few months ago or even during the majority of my youth.

Somebody said it was an age thing, but I sure do not want to believe that.  I would love to think it was just that with age I was finding more wisdom.

Yesterday as I walked it was breezy but the sun was shining, I was able to walk with just a thin top.  Butterflies and bees were out and about and the buds on the trees are beginning to open. The sounds of birds as they get back to a life of some normality and begin to seek partners and to build nests. The woodpeckers were tapping wildly seeking a mate, trying hard to prove their worth as a father.

My father frequently said to me, ”Stop chattering and just listen and let nature give you some answers.”

As I write this I had a moment of clarity, I have said similar things to so many people down the years and never ever asked why. 

This all reminds me of the story of the old man taking his daily walk.      

With bent shoulders he set out each day to walk his few miles. On the days when it rained he carried his furled umbrella, seldom if ever bothering to unfurl it, preferring to feel the rain on his balding head. I smile because when I see somebody with an umbrella I immediately guess that they will speak with an English accent if I speak to them. This is not a racist comment merely an observation. Seldom does a Scotsman carry an umbrella when out in the country?

Back to my old man, he came to a place in the road where there were a number of rocky stairs which he climbed with determination and care. At the top of the steps, there was a carved pot with a cut bamboo pole to direct clear spring water into the pot. Here he would pause and enjoy the sweet taste of the spring.

Then he would stop for a moment, bending his ear, like an attentive student. He would listen, with joy on his face to the confluence of sounds; the pitter-patter of the rain on the leaves, the gurgle of the flowing water. There in the sounds was a sense, a precise mix of melancholy and joy that make life exquisite to live. 

“There is sadness and beauty all around. 

When you can fully understand that and hear nature sing to you, no longer will you be a boy but a man my friend.'

The sun is shining again this morning and nature beckons  I can almost hear my ankle pray for rain, but that would not keep me indoors. I could always get a brolly. 

Have a marvellous day.

To see ourselves as others do.

We Scots have a long history blighted by what we call our Presbyterian streak.  It is the wonderful ability to be able to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and always putting ourselves down.

We are never good enough. As a nation, we feel unable to stand on our own two feet and for some reason feel sure that without the help of the rest of the UK we would flounder. This in spite of our long and wonderful history of invention and making strides forward possible for humanity possible in so many ways. 

On the level of personal human beings, we have a tendency to act the same way.

I can remember the many times when I was proud of some achievement for it to be pointed out to me that I could have done even better.  As a parent, I once or twice found myself almost falling into the same trap with my children, fortunately not so often that it has affected them. 

I am very aware of these traits in my own makeup.

 I never felt that I was a good preacher, and was always aware of the few pews in the church that were empty rather than the 900 that were filled.

I never felt I was as good a teacher as I might have been in spite of the exam results of my students saying otherwise.

I have never painted a picture that I am happy with in spite of many of them hanging on walls all over the world. 

There is a wonderful tale Lao Tzu and some of his followers. One they travelling together along a road through what used to be a large forest. The woodcutters had cut down all the trees except for one large tree which they were all sitting under having lunch. 

Lao Tzu asked his disciples to go and inquire if this last tree was also to be cut down, and if not why not.

When they asked the cutters they were told that it would not be because it was totally useless. They were told it was no use for furniture because its branches were not straight enough. It was no use for firewood because it contained too many knots and twists and so would cause more smoke than heat.  That is why it has been left standing.

When the disciples returned and reported back to Lao Tzu he smiled and said, “Be like this tree.

If you are useful you will be cut down and become somebody’s furniture. If you are beautiful you will be sold as a commodity.  But if like this tree your are useless you can be what you are and look at all those who are enjoying sitting under its shade.”

It is better to be as good as you can be rather than have to be continually telling yourself how useless you are.

Have a good day.

Rejoice all is not lost.

I had a strange discussion yesterday that left me feeling somewhat sad. It was a friend who was telling me of the regrets of past mistakes that were still a burden in the present. Having spent as much time as I have in the last year and more I was very tempted to speak about letting go of the past and grasping the moment.  I walked home and remembered the story of the emotions.

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all constructed boats and left.

Except for Love.
Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.


Richness was passing in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?"

Richness answered, "No, I cannot. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you."

Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!"

"I cannot help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered.

Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!"

Happiness passed by also but she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her.

Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you."

It was a wise sage.  So blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the sage where they were going. When they arrived at dry land, the sage went her own way.

Realising how much was owed the sage, Love asked Knowledge, another sage, "Who Helped me?"

"It was Time," Knowledge answered.

"Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?"

Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is."

There is a little message in there ponder it and have a great day.

The boy and the dog.

My ankle seems to be getting more painful by the day and my limp becoming more and more obvious to all. I know that the opinion of many friends is that I should slow down and not try walking so much. The downside of that is simply that if  I do not make the effort I have other problems like putting on weight and then my asthma returns. I am left daily in a quandary that is never helped by the pain I am feeling.

So as I limped home from the village orchard yesterday, having had a wonderful lesson in the pruning of fruit trees, I remembered the tale of the little boy and his puppy.

A store had a sign in the window that read "Puppies For Sale."

Signs like that have a way of attracting small children, and sure enough, a young boy appeared in the store asking. "How much are the puppies?" 

The store owner replied, "Anywhere from £20 to £40."

The boy reached in his pocket and pulled out some change. "I have £3," he said. "Can I please look at them?"

The store owner smiled and whistled and out of the kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his store followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur. One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said, "What's wrong with that little dog?"

The store owner explained that the vet had examined the little puppy and had discovered it didn't have a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame.

The boy became excited. "That is the puppy that I want to buy." The store owner said, "No, you don't want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I'll just give him to you."

The boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the store owner's eyes, pointing his finger, and said, "I don't want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I'll pay full price. In fact, I'll give you £3 now, and 50 pence a week until I have him paid for."

The store owner countered, "You really don't want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play with you like the other puppies." 

To his surprise, the boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the store owner and softly replied, "Well, I don't run so well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands!"

We ALL need someone who Understands! So it was agreed: the boy took the little puppy home.

Have a good day, school gardening club for me today.

Be like a pencil.

The start of the last week before we move our clocks forward one hour. I suppose that this signals the end of winter or something of the sort, so here is a winter scene of a very famous Sottish ridge. While out walking yesterday I met a couple who seemed full of the enthusiasm of those who have just discovered Scotlands mountains. They were telling me of all the ones they had been up, they have as yet not experienced this marvellous challenge. 

At this moment in time, those challenges are behind me the present challenge is living the best I can. So I thought again of the pencil maker.

The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting it into the box. 

"There are 5 things you need to know," he told the pencil, "Before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be."



"One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in someone's hand."



"Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you'll need it to become a better pencil."



"Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make."



"Four: The most important part of you will always be what's inside."



"And Five: On every surface, you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write."



The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart. 




Now replacing the place of the pencil with ourselves.  

We must always remember the same things, never forget, and we will become the best persons we can be. 



One: We will be able to do many great things, but only if we allow ourselves to be held in some guiding hand. And allow other human beings to access us for the many gifts we possess.



Two: We will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems in life, but we need it to become a stronger person. 



Three: We will be able to correct any mistakes we might make. 



Four: The most important part of us will always be what's on the inside.



And Five: On every surface, we walk through, we must leave our mark. No matter what the situation, we must continue to leave good marks.

Let me end by singling this down.



Allow this parable on the pencil to encourage you to know that you are a special person and only you can fulfil the purpose to which you were born to accomplish.

 Never allow yourself to get discouraged and think that your life is insignificant and cannot make a change.
 

Have a marvellous day.  I wonder what today will bring?

Wonders it can work.

Wonders it can work.

Easy to give it costs not a thing 

and can give so much.

It fills the life of the receiver.

The giver nothing loses. 

Just a moment takes.

Yet lingers in the thoughts for years.

The richest person.

Gets richer when it is given.

 The poorest get no poorer

By giving to the rich.

 In the home, it brings the greatest joy

At work it brings goodwill.

To the weary a little rest.

The person feeling low is filled with cheer.

It is like a touch of sunshine on a gloomy day.

 Reaching even the most sad.

It does all this and even more.

Not just once, but on and on.

It cannot be bought.

The beggar cannot claim it.

Nor the thief in the dead of night.

The owner cannot give on loan.

It has no value due or worth.

There are those who know not how to give.

The ones who need it most.

So as the day goes slowly on.

Give one of yours.

Today my plea is simple.

Just give a smile to all you see.

Some of the most valuable things are free. Have a wonderful day. 

What is it all about?

Going with the flow.

My second book is now finished and although I have been working hard to reach the point where I could say that I found myself at a loss. I had rathered enjoyed being back in the saddle almost, I mean it was like each day as I walked and got on with other things my mind was always wondering how could I say what I thought this chapter meant.   I was back sharing my thoughts as I had in my ministry and teaching days. I was finished, what now?

I found again the draft of a book on meditations and reflections written many years ago. Could I do anything with it? We shall see!

Something I read reminded me of the following.

A professor was doing some research into what young people thought of love. He asked a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers he got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined.  I kept a note of them and here are just a few.

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca - age 8

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on deodorant and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4

"Love is when my mum makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7


"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mum and Dad are like that. They look gross when they kiss" Emily - age 8


"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen," Bobby - age 7

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate," Nikka - age 6


"Love is when you tell a boy you like his shirt, then he wears it every day." Noelle - age 7


"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my dad waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore," Cindy - age 8

"My mum loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6

"Love is when Mum gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine-age 5

"Love is when Mum sees Dad smelly and sweaty and still says he is more handsome than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget," Jessica - age 8


A minister once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four-year-old child whose next door neighbour was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's house, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his Mother asked him what he had said to the neighbour, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."

Have a great day.

Miracles take longer.

No matter how difficult the journey water always reaches the sea.

I was talking to a friend the other day that was despairing of never managing to do all that he wanted. He forgets that he is not the same age as he was last year or the year before. For that matter, none of us is as young as yesterday. I also spoke to another who shared with me that so often things that are not as they should be,  bad things get in the way of fully enjoying the good things of life.

I  was for me to reminded of the story of King Robert The Bruce. He was a very famous person in Scottish history. When I was a boy I was told a story of him in a cave with a spider. I apologise if you have heard it before, but it did make an impression on me and stuck with me for almost 68 years.

He had just suffered a defeat at the hands of the English and was hiding in the cave. He was thinking it was all over and that he should just retreat and go home. While he sat there he saw this spider trying to make a web. It tried and it tried until eventually it managed to begin, from then on it got easier. Robert thought if this spider can do it so will I do what needs to be done. 

The second thing I was reminded of was a tree I saw while away in the mountains. I know some of my friends have a real love of trees, as have I.

I remember a tree that grew in the churchyard of my last church. I took the children out of the service one Sunday morning to show them this tree, a tree they had passed many, many times and hardly taken the time to notice.  

At some distant time, a bird had dropped a seed and it had lodged in the crack in a stone. As the years had passed the tree had grown and grown until it had split the rock in two.

The moral of that story was simple. Some things in life are not easy, but they are not impossible.

As I sat in the hospital waiting room I began this painting on my Ipad. Yes, it is abstract, but can you like me see a dripping cave? lao Tzu the sage says that water always finds its way to the sea because it does not do battle with the obstacles it meets it simply always takes the easy route and arrives where it seeks to be.

There is nothing in life that we cannot tackle but do remember miracles can take a little bit longer.

Have a marvellous day.

The world we live in.

The heart of Tao

We spend a considerable amount of our time complaining about what is wrong with things and often how difficult life can be. I have had a rather hectic time, most of it my own making, trying to do far too many things at the same time. So I took time during my meditation this morning to consider all the things I complained about in the last five days. I considered, where possible, just how serious this complaining was measured alongside the problems of others.

Something interesting came to mind when we look at our lives it in global terms, it becomes almost meaningless. I thought I would scale things down just a little.

If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like this.

There would be:

57 Asians.

21 Europeans.

14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south.

8 would be Africans.

52 would be female.

48 would be male.

70 would be non-white.

30 would be white.

70 would be non-Christian.

30 would be Christian.

6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States.

80 would live in substandard housing.

70 would be unable to read.

50 would suffer from malnutrition.

1 would be near death;

1 would be near birth;

1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education;

1 (yes, only 1) would own a computer.

When we consider the world from this perspective, it looks like a very different place.

So instead of complaining let me consider:

I have food in the refrigerator, clothes on my back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep, I am richer than 75% of this world.

I woke up this morning with more health than illness, I am more blessed than the million who will not survive this week and better than those people suffering from landslides and floods.

I have money in my wallet, and spare change in a coffee jar next to my keyboard making me among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.

I have never experienced the danger of battle, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation, I am therefore ahead of 500 million people in the world.

I can still put a smile on my face and are truly thankful, I am blessed because the majority will find it difficult to smile in their situation.

I can write this blog, over two billion people in the world cannot read it.

So as I look out the window and see the birds and the street in which I live and realise my only complaint is I might walk in a wind and get a bit wet. My biggest task is seeing the heart specialist, having probably walked seven miles. I am indeed in a much better place than most.

I hope you have a wonderful day.

Don't we all.

Shadowlands.

I visited the part of the world I lived in before I moved to my present village it was a special family occasion. Like most towns and villages it has a number of people who have fallen on hard times. One such person, I passed and he remembered me and greeted me in a cheerful way. He seemed to be looking a great deal better than the last time I had seen him.

On that occasion, I had an abstract painting under my arm on my way to deliver it to the person who had bought it. I was feeling good if I am honest a little bit too proud. As I walked I saw him, looking down and very shabby. His hair was unkempt his beard looked as though a good wash would do it the world of good. I was being judgemental.

 As I approached that day I was ready for the begging words. “Could you spare some loose change?” or words to that effect. I have to be honest and admit that it fleetingly crossed my mind to try and avoid making eye contact with him. I did not know him and he did not know me, so no need for me to acknowledge his presence.

As I approached I waited, but it never came. I was wearing my painting top and the picture under my arm was obvious. As I drew near he spoke. At first, I wondered what his line was going to be.

I was taken aback when he spoke about the abstract I was carrying, it seemed he liked abstract art. We spoke about the painting and some others he had liked and seen hanging locally.  All the time I was waiting for his request, but it never came.

I was about to leave and found myself asking, “Do you need any help?”.

His reply caught me off guard completely, “Don't we all mate, don't we all.”

I was feeling high and mighty, successful and important, now I was made to stop and think. Those three words hit me like a sledgehammer.

Don't we all?

I needed help. Maybe not for bus fare or a place to sleep, but I needed help. I reached into my pocket and gave him a portion of the money I was about to collect. I was not sure what he would spend it on and it mattered not. If I was in his position the last thing I would want was my dignity taken away even further by being asked how I would use the money.

Those three little words still ring true.  Don't we all. No matter how much we have, no matter how much we have accomplished, we need help too. No matter how little we have, no matter how wealthy we are.   One way or another we all need help, nobody is an island.

Even if it's just a compliment, we can all give that. You never know when you may see someone that appears to have it all.

That person might just be waiting for you to give them what they don't have. A different perspective on life, a glimpse at something beautiful, a respite from daily chaos, that only you through a torn world can see.



Maybe that man was just a homeless stranger wandering the streets.

Maybe, just maybe, he was a bit more than that.  it was good to see he was doing well and looking good.

Have a great day.

Just a typewriter.

 In the past few days, I have done some quiet complaining about the pain in my ankle. Walking has become more and more difficult and standing for long periods just aggravates the pain. I wish it would go away. I wish I could run again. So many complaints.

then in the midst of all of this, I remember this artist. Paul Smith.

He lived at Rose Haven Nursing Home (Roseburg, OR ) for years. Paul Smith, the man with extraordinary talent was born on September 21, 1921, with severe cerebral palsy. Not only had Paul beaten the odds of a life with spastic cerebral palsy, a disability that impeded his speech and mobility but also taught himself to become a master artist as well as a terrific chess player even after being devoid of formal education as a child.

"When typing, Paul used his left hand to steady his right one. Since he couldn't press two keys at the same time, he almost always locked the shift key down and made his pictures using the symbols at the top of the number keys. In other words, his pictures were based on these characters ..... @ # $ % ^ & * ( )_ . Across seven decades, Paul created hundreds of pictures. He often gave the originals away. Sometimes, but not always, he kept or received a copy for his own records. As his mastery of the typewriter grew, he developed techniques to create shadings, colours, and textures that made his work resemble pencil or charcoal drawings." 

This great man passed away on June 25, 2009, but left behind a collection of his amazing artwork that will be an inspiration for many.

Here are another two of his paintings.

             

Now is that not something. An example to us all, and to me in particular. Stop complaining about how life is and make the very best of what we have.  How I would have loved to have known this man I am sure he would have been such an inspiration.

I have added no artwork of my own today I leave that to Paul.

Cats, Tails and Tales

I actually managed to get my second book completed only to discover that when I submitted to the publisher using their programme it insisted on cutting out all the paintings I had included and any text that was on a page with a painting disappeared also. I am therefore in their hands to when it will be ready. I have had to send them the original document for them to see how this can be overcome. Having spent so much time on this project I feel as if I am now just sitting chasing my tail waiting.

Speaking of tails, let me tell you about yesterday. I planted some new flowers in my garden. No sooner were they in when I looked out and saw a cat lying on top of them. I went out and chased it only to see it back in place ten minutes later. This went on for a good hour and more until at last, it got the message that it was not welcome in the garden if it was insisting on that particular spot.

This reminds me of the tale of the two cats. There were two cats a very young one and a very old one. One day the old cat watched as the young one chased its tail round and round in circles.

Eventually, the old cat purred the question. “Why are you chasing your tail all day?” The young cat responded, “Because it helps me to find happiness.” The old cat mused for a while and said, “ I used to think that also until I learned that no matter where I went my tail followed on anyway.”

The young cat continued to chase his tail. The old cat looked and purred and went off on his way.

Sure enough, as he left his tail followed him swishing away behind him. He looked very happy. 

Happiness is not found in chasing after it. If we get our lives in order happiness follows us.

Have a great day.

The Art Wall

Spring

Being the smallest boy in my class at school meant that I was frequently the butt of bullying and what others saw as fun. I went through my whole school life known as titch. To add to the problems I had bright red hair. The fact that my parents were not financially well off did not help, although this must have been worse for my younger brother, because I would get the new clothes first. 

These and other factors meant that I kept myself to myself a great deal of the time. I never allowed myself to get close to people because in the end it usually meant I ended up getting hurt. I still have problems with this, but now I allow people into my space and mostly I can live with any rejection or hurt.

Recently though, I have been reminded again of the lessons of youth and how my father helped me to cope with anger and hurt, and having to find ways to dispel hurt and bad feelings. 

I have been reading again the story of the art wall, let me share it with you.

Tony was a nice, cheerful, optimistic boy. No one could remember ever having seen him angry; he didn't mind whatever people said to him. He seemed incapable of insulting anyone. Even his teachers admired his good disposition, which was so unusual that a rumour was going around that Tony´s goodness must be due to some special secret. The fact that there was a supposed secret meant that no one could think about anything else. They interrogated Tony so much that, one afternoon, he invited his favourite teacher, Mrs Anthony, to tea. When they had finished, Tony showed Mrs Anthony around the house. When Tony opened his bedroom door, the teacher froze, and a big smile spread across his face.

The huge far wall was a unique collage of thousands of colours and shapes! It was the loveliest decoration Mrs Anthony had ever seen.

"Some people at school think I never think badly of anyone," Tony started to explain, "and that nothing at all bothers me, and that I never want to insult anyone, but that's not true at all. I'm just like anyone else. I used to get angrier than all the other kids. But years ago, with the help of my parents, I started a small collage. I could use any kind of material and colour for it. With every little piece I stuck on I added some bad thought or act.”

It was true. The teacher looked closely at the wall. In each one of the small pieces he could read, in tiny letters, 'fool', 'idiot', 'pain', 'bore', and a thousand other negative things.

"This is how I started turning all my bad times into an opportunity to add to my collage. Now I like the collage so much that, each time someone makes me angry, I couldn't be happier. They've given me a new piece for my work of art."

That day they discussed many things, but what the teacher never forgot was how an ordinary boy had shown him that the secret to having a cheerful and optimistic character is to convert the bad times into a chance to smile.

Without telling anyone, on that very day, Mrs Anthony began her own collage. She would recommend it so often to her students that, years later, they called that neighbourhood 'Art Town'. Each house contained its own magnificent works of art, made by those cheerful and optimistic children.

The painting.

Today I have to drive to Ayr to collect my motorhome, so about six hours of driving and plenty of time to think. 

I have spent a great amount of time in the last while writing my follow- up book, it has almost possessed ever waking moment of my time, even the hours spent walk has been thinking about it. I have thought of and remembered many old tales which I have not used in the book but have allowed them to guide my thoughts. This true story is worthy of a thought.

There was a very wealthy man who had a young son,  with a shared passion for art collecting. Together they travelled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet. The man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world. As winter approached, war engulfed their nation, and the young man left to serve his country.

After only a few short weeks, the elderly man received a telegram that his beloved son was missing in action.  The son had died while helping a fellow soldier to a medic. Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness.

On Christmas morning a knock came to the door. As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. He opened the door and was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand.

The soldier introduced himself to the old man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you." As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of his and his fathers love of fine artwork. "I'm also an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man began to unwrap the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son.

Though the world would never consider it a work of genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome with emotion, the old man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the portrait above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of paintings.  During the days and weeks that followed, the man learned that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart.  

The old man died.  According to the will, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the day he had received his greatest gift.

The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum list. It was the painting of the old man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent.

"Who will open the bidding with £100?" he asked. Moments passed as no one spoke. From the back of the room came, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget it and get on to the good ones." More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this one first," replied the auctioneer. "Now who will take the son?"

Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. "Will you take £10 for the painting? That's all I have. "Will anyone bid higher?" called the auctioneer.

After more silence he said, "Going once, going twice...Gone!" The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone shouted; "Now we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!"

The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Then someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a portrait of some old man's son! What about all of the other paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of artwork here.

We demand an explanation!"

The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son...gets it all."

Apologies that this was a long read but I hope like me you feel it was a story worth reading. So much in life depends on where we put our values.

Questions and Answers.

The above painting is one of a friend I made in my last place of residence. I know she returned home to Africa but I have no idea how she is doing.  We meet many people in our lives who come and go, some who have made an impression and yes there are always some that we are pleased to have left behind. She was one of the former.

Yesterday I overheard a young lad conversing with his mother. In the short span of about five minutes, he asked his mother more questions that I could find answers. I smiled to myself, remembering such days with my own two children.

I was reminded of a meeting I attended with parents and the morning of laughter we had as each, in turn, told stories about their children and some of the wonderful insights they came out with. 

My own son the day he stood up halfway through my sermon and walked to the front of the church where he innocently looked up to me and in his best voice said, “ Dad I am just going to go through to the church hall to play. This sermon is too long and boring if you are not going to chidrenize it I am leaving.” On which he did just that, his mother in hot pursuit. 

Another tale is the one I give you this morning. I Know that it is a true story because I can still see that teacher in my mind's eye as she related it.

The teacher had been conducting a class for young children or religion and beliefs.

She asked them, 'If I sold my house and my car, 

 had a big sale 


and gave all my money 

to the church, 

Would that get me into Heaven?'

'NO!'

Answered the class. 




'If I cleaned the church every day, 


mowed the grass, 

and kept everything neat and tidy, 
would that get me into Heaven?'





Again, the answer was, 'NO!' 



By now she was starting to smile. 


Hey, this was fun!


'Well, then, if I was kind to animals 


and gave sweets 


to all the children, 
and loved my husband, 
would that get me into Heaven?' 


She asked them again.     


Again, they all answered, 'NO!' 




She was just bursting with pride for them. 
'Well,' she continued, 'then how can I get into Heaven?' 
  
A five-year-old boy shouted out, 






 The first thing you need to get to heaven is you have to be DEAD 

Once again it takes the wisdom of a child to get to the heart of the matter. 

Have a great day.

Getting in a storm.

The gathering storm.

Today I have to take my motorhome for its annual service and habitation check. A fairly long drive and a return trip to collect it again in about two days or so.  But the good thing about this dealer and service place is that when you call them to make arrangements, you actually get to speak to a person.

We live in a wonderful automated age, is it not amazing?

The personal touch is disappearing, I find that so sad. When I call my doctor, I am answered by a list of possible things I might want. It is always the case though that the one thing I do want, to see a doctor, is not on the list.

The other day there I was trying to contact a company. I was in a good mood as I lifted up the phone, ready to explain my problem to whoever answered the call. By the time I managed to reach a human being, there were fumes coming out my nostrils, I felt like a raging bull. I had to bite my tongue so that my anger was not taken out on the poor girl who was only doing her job. I am sure everybody reading this has been there?

Now it is not all bad news. When I was in education, we all knew who the most important people were in the system.

The janitors and the school secretaries; and not always in that order. I often thought an automated service might be better than have to get past them. They used to say they would rather do anything than face the calls of some parents. So here you are, a little belatedly, I apologise.

For school secretaries a list of possible alternatives you might wish to have.

"Hello! You have reached the automated answering service for Aughenshoogle School. In order to assist you in connecting to the right staff member, please listen to all the options before making a selection:

To lie about why your child is absent - Press 1

To make excuses for why your child did not do his/her homework - Press 2

To complain about what the staff here do - Press 3

 To simply swear at a staff member - Press 4

To ask why you didn't get information that was already enclosed in your newsletter and several flyers mailed to you - Press 5

If you want us to take care of your child after school hours - Press 6

 If you want to reach out and touch, slap or hit someone - Press 7

To request yet another teacher for your child - Press 8

To complain that the school is not open early enough for work hours - Press 9

To complain about school lunches - Press 0



If you realise this is the real world and your child must be accountable and responsible for his/her own behaviour, class work, homework and that it's not all the teachers' fault for your child's lack of effort: - Hang up and have a nice day!

Time for me to hang up, or switch off.  I hope you have a great day.

LOOK

While playing golf last week with my son we were joking about my follow-up book.  I jokingly asked if he would find time to write and foreward and he agreed.

This made me remember some of the events in life that made me laugh the simple little things that meant much to me and something else to others.

One such incident was when my son began to learn reading and writing. The first word he learned was the word, “Look”. This word began appearing on every bit of spare paper. Then one Sunday morning I arrived home from conducting an early morning service at the prison.

As I drove up the drive towards the church there on the front of the wall in large very visible letters were two words, emblazoned in chalk, “Look, God.”

He had been at it again, showing off his writing skills. Some of the members of the congregation were more concerned about how the words were to be removed than thinking about what my son was maybe trying to tell them.

I acted all serious but inwardly I had to smile.

Some weeks later my study was being decorated. New wallpaper was being hung to brighten the place up.

When I arrived home from some visits I was met at the door by my daughter. “Dad you are not going to like what Ross has done now.” When I asked what he had been up to she informed me he had written on the study wallpaper. No, I was not going to like what he had done now. In anger, I stormed up the stairs to the study. I opened the door. True enough the walls were written on in crayon. The words read, “I love my dad.”

The words were still there on the wall when I left that church to move to another parish. Every time I sat down to prepare for a meeting or to prepare myself for conducting Sunday worship I saw them. They were words that touched my inner being like few words could.

It is wonderful when somebody, whom you hold dear takes the time to let you know that you also hold a special place in their life.

I often wonder if I do it often enough. Nobody is ever too busy to take time to tell somebody how much they mean to you.

Being a Teacher.

I watched a quiz programme yesterday and thought if I were ever to appear on one  I might have problems.  What struck me were the number of people who introduced themselves in the following way. My name is John Smith I am 69 and a retired banker.

Now can somebody please tell me what does a retired banker do? What does a retired lawyer do? I suppose they do the same kind of things I do with my day. So in reality, if we are all doing the same things we could be retired whatever we want to be.

As some of you know I left school at the early age of 15 to begin work in an abattoir and butchers. I did that for a few years then got my life in gear and went to university to become a minister of religion. Having done that for some time I re-entered university to become a teacher of world religions and philosophy.

So as I stood on the platform of the quiz game what would I be a retired butcher, killer, minister or teacher? Would I have the nerve to claim to be an artist?

These thoughts were brought to my mind when yesterday a friend happened to say to me he would not like to have to write my CV. Because he would also have to include things like prison chaplain, hospital and school chaplain and magistrate.

So I found myself asking just who on earth am I and what would I want remembered for. So I googled all of the things I have listed above, (yes I am guilty of wasting time) to see which looked best. During the process, I found this little gem and I just had to share it with you. Especially those of you who are teachers.

1872 Instructions to Teachers

1. Teachers will fill lamps, clean chimneys and trim wicks each day.

2. Each teacher will bring a scuttle of coal and a bucket of water for the day's use.

3. Make your pens carefully. You may whittle nibs for the individual tastes of children.

4. Men teachers may take one evening a week for courting purposes or two evenings a week if they go to church regularly.

5. After ten hours in school, the teacher should spend the remaining time reading the Bible and other good books.

6. Women teachers who marry or engage in other unseemly conduct will be dismissed.

7. Every teacher who smokes uses liquor in any form frequents pool or public halls, or gets shaved in a barber shop will give good reasons to suspect his worth, intentions, integrity and honesty.

8. The teacher who performs his labours faithfully without fault for five years will be given an increase of 25 cents a week in his pay - providing the Board of Education approves.


Now this made me realise that first and foremost I am glad I was a teacher but so happy I did not have any of the above rules.

I hope this just starts your day off with a little smile as it did for me when I found it. Two of them made me smile even more than the rest what one did you like most?

Have a good day and if you are retired remember you can be retired whatever you want to be. I think today I will be a retired brain surgeon.