Life for Love--3

My Father's Son

Anonymity

It's hard being an astronaut's son. I mean, everybody expects you to be special or perfect, and I'm just an average eleven year-old kid. I'm an average student, and I'm average, too, when it comes to basketball, football, soccer, and baseball.

I often wonder how my father ever had a son like me. I mean he's so special and so good at everything he does. In high school he was captain of the football team, class president, and editor of the school newspaper.
Well, to tell you the truth,I do have a little talent that nobody knows about. I write poems and stories and keep them in a red notebook in my bottom desk drawer.

Nowadays I dream about being a famous writer, but I used to dream about doing something spectacular to impress my father and make him proud of me-something like rescuing a child from a burning building or chasing a robber away from an old lady.
I was daydreaming in school one morning ( which I do often). I was daydreaming about being some kind of hero, like discovering an instant cure for cancer or a shot for mental illness, when I heard my English teacher announce a Father's Day essay contest for the whole school. "

I hope we have a winner right here in my English class, she said. "The PTA has donated three cash prizes- one hundred dollars for first prize, fifty dollars for second, and twenty-five dollars for third prize. "

After school I walked home, thinking about the essay I would write. My father is an astronaut, I would start out. No, I decided. I wouldn't do that. The whole country and maybe even the whole world saw my father as an astronaut , but that wasn't the way I saw him.
When I got home, I kissed my mom quickly. Then I went upstairs to my room and sat down with a pen and a pad of paper. I started to think about what I would write.

How did I see my father. Hmm. I saw him sitting with me in the dark23 when I was a little kid and had a nightmare.

I saw him teaching me how to use a bat and how to throw a baseball.

I remembered how he hugged me for hours when my dog Spotty was hit and killed by a car.
And I remembered how he surprised me with a new puppy at my eighth birthday party. When I started to cry, he told all the kids that I had a bad allergy. "David's allergy bothers him a lot this time of year," Dad said.

And I remembered how he sat and tried to explain death to me when Grandpa Bob died.

These were the things I was going to write about my dad. To me, he wasn't just a world-famous astronaut. He was my dad.
I wrote about all these memories and put them in my essay. I handed it in the next day and was surprised to find out that the winning essays would be read in the auditorium on Thursday night. All the parents and students were invited.

My parents and I went to school Thursday night. One of our neighbours said, "I bet you'll win the contest, David. I bet you wrote what it's like to be the son of an astronaut, and you're the only one in town who could write about that. "
My dad looked at me, and I shrugged. I hadn't shown him the essay, and now I almost hoped Lwouldn't win. I didn't want; to win just because my father was an astronaut.When third prize was announced and it wasn't me, I was relieved and disappointed at the same time, Ellen Gordon won third prize, and she read her essay. Ellen. is adopted, and she wrote a.bout her "better than real" father. When she got to the end,I heard people in the audience sniffing and blowing their noses. My mother sniffed, and my father cleared his throat.
The second-prize winner was announced next. It was me.

I went up to the stage, my knees shaking. I read my essay and wondered if my voice was shaking, too. It was scary standing up in front of all those people. I called my essay "My Father's Son. " I watched my parents as I read. When I finished reading, the audience applauded. I saw my father blowing his nose. Tears were running down my mother's face. I went backto my seat.
"I see you have an allergy , too , Dad , " I tried to joke.Dad nodded, cleared his throat, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Son, this is the proudest moment of my life," he said. It was the proudest moment of my life, too. Maybe I'll never be a great hero or win a Nobel Prize, but just then, it was enough just to be my father's son.

Life for Love--2

silence of tears
Anonymity

Now I know why birds sit on telephone lines. They listen.
　

I am either nine or ten years old. At the orphanage they call me Miguel.
　　

When I want to feel improtant， I say， "Call me Don Miguel. " I used to act important all the time because 1 felt I wasn't.

Back then， no one liked me very much because I didn't like other peole
　　

But last year， I began to learn two important things： I was learning to see， not just look. And I was learning to listen， not just hear.
　　

I used to lie in the dark and make up relatives that I didn't have. My favorite relative was a nice old man who spoke Spanish， like me.
　　

One day a man came to see me. He said he was my uncle. "I don't have an uncle，" I said.
　　

"Now you do ， " he said.
　　

He was an old man who liked children. He had a boy once who went to Korea. His daughter moved to the City. He said the City can be a difficult place in which to live. He taught me how to see and listen. I don't know if he is my uncle or not； neither did he， but he came to see me often. I guess if you act like an uncle all the time， you are one.
　　

I was not a good student before my uncle came along. He took me walking in the fields. At one point he spread his arms and said. "It is all here. "
　　

"What？" I said.
　　

"Everything you need to know，" he replied.
　　

At first it appeared to be nothing more than just a few trees. I thought I was nowhere. Then he had me close n-.y eyes. First I heard the breeze in the grass， then in the trees. I also heard a faraway train and a barking dog. For a while I heard nothing. I was almost scared. He said to listen harder.
　　

I heard my heart beat.beause I used to be so sad， I had almost forgotten that I had a heart.
　　

Once I asked him who he was.
　　

"An experiment ， " he said.
　　

"What kind of an experiment？" I said.
　　

He grinned and said， "Nobody knows. Like you， there is no one in the world like me. So who is to say what I will be. "
　　

One day in the field he showed me the way the breeze made the trees move. The rustling of the leaves made a sound that frightened a nearby bird. It flew away.
　　

We watched the bird drop an acorn.
　　

"The bird ， " he said ， "care make a seed move. From that seed the oak can grow fifty feet tall. It will be a friend to those who want one. "
　　

I always knew that trees were there， but I never knew they were real like me.
　　

One Sunday I was angry. When my uncle came ， I said ： "I don't have anything. I wish I had something. "
　　

"You have everything worth having，" he said. "And I will give you even more. I will give some secrets of the Universe. Do you believe me？"
　　

"Yes，" I said， wanting to believe him.
　　

He gave me three small seeds.
　　

"Put each seed into a small box filled with dirt. Then care for them. Talk to them if you wish. They will grow with you. "
　　

Now they are in larger boxes. One of t.he plants has grown up to my knee. I sometimes wonder what else it is up to.
　　

Another time we were walking in the field when we saw two birds on a telephone line. They seemed so peaceful. Then suddenly they flew away. My uncle just laughed.
　　

"See，" he said."Someone said something they didn't like.& careful what you tell the birds."
　　

One night I passed by the office of the orphanage. A man I don't iike very much was on the phone. He was angry and loud.
　　

When he'left， I went into the office and picked up the phone. I heard the funniest sound.
　　

"Listen，" I said. "Listen， birds. Come on back， never mind what he says. We like you. "
　　

One day-Unele did not come： I waited and waited but he did not come. The man I don't like at the orphanage said Uncle was sick.

　　"May I go and see him？" I asked.

　　"No，" he said. "He may be contagious. "

　　"May I call him？"

　　"No， " he said. "I'll call him for you. "

　　"Don't do that，" I said.

　　"Why not？" .

　　"You'll make the birds fly away. "

　　I sneaked into the office one night and called Uncle.

　　"Are you all right？" I asked.

　　"Yes， but I must go away. "

　　"Why？"
　　"To make room for something else. "
　　"Will you come back？"
　　"I will help you remember me， if you want me to. "
　　"I do. . . . I do. . . ."

　　When I went to bed at night， I would try to imagine that he was there. He was harder and harder to see. One night， he was not there at all. There was only a grcen ficld.

　　I went back to our field. It was raining. T'he sky was dark， the way I was inside. I looked for Uricle everywhere. I called his name.

　　I was angry for a while. I said some things out loud that I shouldn't have said. Two birds flew out of the trec.I made them get wet.

　　On the way back， I saw something that was only an inch or two tall. It was where that hird dropped the acorn. I didn't tell anybody， but I knew.

　　Someday Uncle will be fifty feet tall.

Life for Love--1

Beautiful Smile and Love
Mother Teresa

The poor are very wonderful people. One vening we went out and we picked up four people from the street. And one of them was in a most terrible condition，and I told the sisters: You take care of the other three. I take care of this one who looked worse. So I did for her all that my love can do. I put her in bed, and there was such a beautiful smile on her face. She took hold of my hand as she said just the words “thank you” and she died. I could not help but examine my conscience before her and I asked what would I say if I was in her place. And my answer was very simple. I would have tried to draw a little attention to myself. I would have said I am hungry, that I am dying, I am cold, I am in pain, or something, but she gave me much more-she gave me her grateful love. And she died with a smile on her face. As did that man whom we picked up from the drain, half eaten with worms, and we brought him to the home. “I have lived like an animal in the street, but I am going to die like an angel, loved and cared for.” And it was so wonderful to see the greatness of that man who could speak like that, who could die like that without blaming anybody, without cursing anybody, without comparing anything. Like an angel-this is the greatness of our people. And that is why we believe what Jesus had said: I was hungry, I was naked, I was homeless, I was unwanted, unloved, uncared for, and you did it to me.

I believe that we are not real social workers. We may be doing social work in the eyes of the people, but we are really contemplatives in the heart of the world. For we are touching the body of Christ twenty-four hours…And I think that in our family we don’t need bombs and guns, to destroy, to bring peace, just get together, love one another, bring that peace, that joy, that strength of presence of each other in the home. And we will be able to overcome all the evil that is in the world.

And with this prize that I have received as a Prize of Peace, I am going to try to make the home for many people who have no home. Because I believe that love begins at home, and if we can create a home for the poor I think that more and more love will spread. And we will be able through this understanding love to bring peace be the good news to the poor. The poor in our own family first, in our country and in the world. To be able to do this, our Sisters, our lives have to be wove with prayer. They have to be woven with Christ to be able to understand, to be able to share. Because to be woven with Christ is to be able to understand, to be able to share. Because today there is so much suffering…When I pick up a person from the street, hungry, I give him a plate of rice, a piece of bread, I have satisfied. I have removed that hunger. But a person who is shut out, who feels unwanted, unloved, terrified, the person who has been thrown out from society-that poverty is so full of hurt and so unbearable…And so let us always meet each other with a smile, for the smile is the beginning of love, and once we begin to love each other naturally we want to do something.