We can learn a lot from this story.
   


-----Inline Attachment Follows-----


THE OLD FISHERMAN   

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of   Johns 
Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore  We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs 
rooms to out-patients at the Clinic.

One summer evening as I was preparing supper, there was a knock at the door I  
opened it to see a truly awful looking man. 'Why, he's hardly taller than my 
eight-year-old,' I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. 

But the appalling thing was his face, lopsided from swelling, red and raw Yet  
his voice was pleasant as he said, 'Good evening. I've come to see if you've  a 
room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the  eastern 
shore, and there's no bus 'till morning.' 

He told me he'd  been hunting for a room since noon but with no success; no one 
seemed to  have a room. 'I guess it's my face. I know it looks terrible, but my 
doctor  says with a few more treatments...' 

For a moment I hesitated, but his  next words convinced me: 'I could sleep in 
this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning.' I told 
him we would find him a  bed, but to rest on the porch.  I went inside and 
finished getting  supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would 
join us. 'No  thank you. I have plenty' And he held up a brown paper bag. 

When I  had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few 
 minutes. It didn't take a long time to see that this old man had an oversized 
heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support 
his daughter, her five children and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled 
from a back injury. 

He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was 
prefaced with thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain 
accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked 
God for giving him the strength to keep going. 

At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in 
the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded, and the little man was out on 
the porch. 

He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if 
asking a great favor, he said, 
'Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I  won't 
put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair.' He paused a moment  and then 
added, 'Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered  by my face, 
but children don't seem to mind.' I told him he was welcome to come again. 

And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, 
he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest  oysters I had ever seen. He 
said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and 
fresh. I knew his bus left at 4 a.m. , and I wondered what time he had to get 
up in order to do this for us.

In  the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he 
did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden.   

Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish 
and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf 
carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these and 
knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious.     

When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our 
next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning.   'Did you keep that 
awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by 
putting up such people!' 

Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice But, oh! If only they could have known 
him, perhaps their  illness would have been easier to bear. I know our family 
always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to 
accept the  bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God. 

Recently I  was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her 
flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, 
bursting with  blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old 
dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, 'If this were my plant, I'd put it 
in the  loveliest container I had!' 

My friend changed my mind. 'I ran short  of pots,' she explained, 'and knowing 
how beautiful this one would be, I  thought it wouldn't mind starting out in 
this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the 
garden.' 

She must have  wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just 
such a scene  in heaven. There's an especially beautiful one,' God might have 
said when he  came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. 'He won't mind 
starting in this small body.' 

All this happened long ago -- and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely 
soul must stand.

The LORD does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward 
appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart...' 

Friends are very special. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed.  
They lend an ear and they share a word of  praise. Show your friends how much 
you care. 

Pass this on, and brighten someone's day..  someone might smile~ because of 
you! Friends are special Hugs from God!


      
--~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups 
"BETTER PERSONALITY GROUP" group.
To post to this group, send email to [email protected]
To unsubscribe from this group, send email to 
[email protected]
For more options, visit this group at 
http://groups.google.com/group/BETTER_PERSONALITY?hl=en
-~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---

THE OLD FISHERMAN    

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of   Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore  We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out-patients at the Clinic.


One summer evening as I was preparing supper, there was a knock at the door I  opened it to see a truly awful looking man. 'Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old,' I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body.

But the appalling thing was his face, lopsided from swelling, red and raw Yet  his voice was pleasant as he said, 'Good evening. I've come to see if you've  a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the  eastern shore, and there's no bus 'till morning.'

He told me he'd  been hunting for a room since noon but with no success; no one seemed to  have a room. 'I guess it's my face. I know it looks terrible, but my doctor  says with a few more treatments...'

For a moment I hesitated, but his  next words convinced me: 'I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning.' I told him we would find him a  bed, but to rest on the porch.  I went inside and finished getting  supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. 'No  thank you. I have plenty' And he held up a brown paper bag.


When I  had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few  minutes. It didn't take a long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.

He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.

At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded, and the little man was out on the porch.

He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said,
'Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I  won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair.' He paused a moment  and then added, 'Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered  by my face, but children don't seem to mind.' I told him he was welcome to come again.

And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest  oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4 a.m. , and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.


In  the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden.
 

Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious.  
 

When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning.   'Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!'

Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice But, oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their  illness would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the  bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I  was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with  blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, 'If this were my plant, I'd put it in the  loveliest container I had!'

My friend changed my mind. 'I ran short  of pots,' she explained, 'and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I  thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden.'

She must have  wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene  in heaven. There's an especially beautiful one,' God might have said when he  came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. 'He won't mind starting in this small body.'

All this happened long ago -- and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.


The LORD does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart...'

Friends are very special. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed.  They lend an ear and they share a word of  praise. Show your friends how much you care.

Pass this on, and brighten someone's day.. 
someone might smile
~ because of you! Friends are special Hugs from God!


Reply via email to