An old farmer had owned a large farm for many years, he had a huge man-made pond out back with a beautiful picnic area,

For years it was the perfect place to unwind or hold a family get together. As the farmer grew older, his “Oasis” was used less and less.

It eventually became the local swimming hole and while his neighbors occasionally took advantage of the pond, he rarely made an appearance.

One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, he hadn’t been there in a while and felt the urge to pay a visit to check on things.

As he neared the pond, he heard loud playful voices giggling and laughing.

As he came closer he was astonished to see that a bunch of young women had decided to skinny dip in his pond.

He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end of the pond.

One of the women shouted to him, “We’re not coming out until you leave!”

The old man replied, “I didn’t come down here to watch you ladies swim or make you get out of the pond, I’m here to feed the alligator.”

 

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.

The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.

 

Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat !”

 

All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction.

 

If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.

 

Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love.

 

If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

 

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.

 

As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought.

 

Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.

 

Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion. At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

 

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.

 

Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.

 

Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me…I will always try to be Ugly.

 

by Author Unknown

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an eight-year-old again.

I want to go to McDonald’s and think that it’s a four-star restaurant.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks.

I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.

I want to run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer’s day.

I want to return to a time when life was simple, when all you knew were colors, multiplication tables and nursery rhymes, but that didn’t bother you because you didn’t know what you didn’t know and you didn’t care.

All you knew was to be happy, because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.

I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.

I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.

I want to live simply again. I don’t want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive when there are more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness and loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, mankind and making angels in the snow.

I want to play with my pets and my days of imagination to last forever

So here are my checkbook and my car keys, my credit card bills and my 401(k) statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood.

And if you want to discuss this further, you’ll have to catch me first because,“Tag! You’re it!”

Unknown Author

 

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old 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?”

“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress.

The little 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. “Thirty-five cents,”
she said brusquely.

The little 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, were two nickels and five pennies – her tip.

– Author Unknown

Some years ago I took on an assignment in a southern county to work with people on public welfare. What I wanted to do was show that everybody has the capacity to be self-sufficient, and all we have to do is to activate them. I asked the county to pick a group of people who were on public welfare, people from different racial groups and different family constellations.

I would then see them as a group for three hours every Friday. I also asked for a little petty cash to work with as I needed it.

The first thing I said after I shook hands with everybody was, “I would like to know what your dreams are.” Everyone looked at me as if I were kind of wacky.

“Dreams? We don’t have dreams.” I said, “Well, when you were a kid what happened? Wasn’t there something you
wanted to do?”

One woman said to me, “I don’t know what you can do with dreams. The rats are eating up my kids.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s terrible. No, of course, you are very much involved with the rats and your kids. How can that be helped?”

“Well, I could use a new screen door because there are holes in my screen door.”

I asked, “Is there anybody around here who knows how to fix a screen door?”

There was a man in the group, and he said, “A long time ago I used to do things like that, but now I have a terribly bad back, but I’ll try.”

I told him I had some money if he would go to the store, buy some screening, and go and fix the lady’s screen door.

“Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, I’ll try.”

The next week, when the group was seated, I said to the woman, “Well is your screen door fixed?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Then we can start dreaming, can’t we?” She sort of smiled at me.

I said to the man who did the work, “How do you feel?” He said, “Well, you know, it’s a very funny thing. I’m beginning to feel a lot better.” That helped the group to begin to dream. These seemingly small successes allowed the group to see that dreams were not insane. These small steps began to get people to see and feel that something really could happen. I began to ask other people about their dreams. One woman shared that she always wanted to be a secretary. I said, “Well, what stands in your way?” (That’s always my next question).

She said, “I have six kids, and I don’t have anyone to take care of them while I’m away.”

“Let’s find out,” I said.

“Is there anybody in this group who would take care of six kids for a day or two a week while this woman gets some training here at the community college?”

One woman said, “I got kids, too, but I could do that.”

“Let’s do it,” I said. A plan was created and the woman went to school.

Everyone found something. The man who put in the screen door became a handyman. The woman who took in the children became a licensed foster care person. In 12 weeks I had  all these people off public welfare. I’ve not only done that once, I’ve done it many times

Unknown Author