Sunday, 26 July 2009
Another story which I found online. Enjoy :)
My six-year-old daughter Sophie and I were playing a rhyming game the other day and out of the blue she asked me, "Why can't I touch the sky?"
I laughed inside and thought for a few moments.
I tried to explain it from the Jack and the Beanstalk story, but she just looked at me funny.
Then I tried the old earth space thing, but that was too technical.
The more I tried, the clumsier it got when finally I realized I wasn't getting through.
Then I had a realization. What if my daughter had asked the same question to another six year old? What would the other child have said? Some six year olds think they know the answer to everything and its fun to listen to what they have to say. Something tells me her friend wouldn't have the slightest difficulty in explaining the answer. Chances are, they would have argued and discussed it until finally reaching agreement.
I wished I could have turned the question over to an imaginary friend and then sit back and listen to the conversation.
That night while lying in bed, I kept thinking about her question and why I couldn't come up with a really cool answer. Was it because I had "grown up" and now used my imagination like an "adult"? As I grew, the maturation process obviously had boxed me in. And worse yet... I knew that someday, my little girl just might lose her pure and trusting imagination to adulthood and maybe stop asking these wonderfully creative questions.
I didn't feel like it was right that I progressed up the ladder of maturity only to lose what I feel is a very important concept: the ability to retain and possess a childlike quality to explore other possibilities. Where did my childlike imagination go? Why did it go? I thought I would ask Sophie this question to help me understand why some adults tend to lose sight of this magical way of thinking and why others make a living by it.
She looked at me with a puzzle on her face and then I knew. It never occurs to her that there's any other way. Why on earth would a six-year-old little girl dream she couldn't touch the sky unless somebody told her she couldn't?
I watch my little girl as she plays. She conducts an imaginary reading class and makes sure each doll pronounces the words correctly. She dresses her babies and gets them ready for they're day. Her imagination takes wing each and every day to places I'm not aware. Sometimes I can catch a glimpse of her inner world when we sit and talk about her day or what her plans are for tomorrow.
Remember when we were younger, when we used to talk about and imagine what we would become when we grew up? I wanted to be a policeman and my friends wanted to be fireman and race car drivers. We believed anything was possible and we could become whatever we wanted, never doubting the possibilities. As children, we dreamed big.
Children are visionaries, and it seems a little sad to think our childlike imagination seems to disappear as we grow older. As we age, the ever-increasing intrusions of the world on our minds seem to frighten that childlike imagination into full-blown retreat.
As we grew up, we learned why the sky really is blue, and why grass is green. Why flowers need sunlight and how birds really fly. We lose a little bit of the wonder of life around us as we schedule the next meeting or plan tomorrow's agenda.
I have my daughter to thank for asking her question. It connected me, once again, with my priorities. She made me think about my own potentiality and how I may be limiting myself. Maybe I need to reconnect with my childlike imagination and think more outside the box of adult creativity. If I do that, maybe I can explain in my own six-year-old way, why she can... touch the sky.
DREAM BIG PEOPLE :)
WEI TNG
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We are the one who know the way, show the way and lead the way... ;
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
A man found a cocoon of a butterfly.
One day a small opening appeared.
He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.
So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.
Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives. If God allowed us to go through our lives without any obstacles, it would cripple us.
We would not be as strong as what we could have been. We could never fly!
I asked for Strength.........
And God gave me Difficulties to make me strong.
I asked for Wisdom.........
And God gave me Problems to solve.
I asked for Prosperity.........
And God gave me Brain and Brawn to work.
I asked for Courage.........
And God gave me Danger to overcome.
I asked for Love.........
And God gave me Troubled people to help.
I asked for Favours.........
And God gave me Opportunities.
I received nothing I wanted ........
I received everything I needed!
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We are the one who know the way, show the way and lead the way... ;
Monday, 13 July 2009
Found this online story. Do read. :)
This is a true story which happened in the States. A man came out of his home to admire his new truck.
To his puzzlement, his three-year-old son was happily hammering dents into the shiny paint.
The man ran to his son, knocked him away, hammered the little boy's hands into pulp as punishment.
When the father calmed down, he rushed his son to the hospital. Although the doctor tried desperately to save the crushed bones, he finally had to amputate the fingers from both the boy's hands.
When the boy woke up from the surgery & saw his bandaged stubs, he innocently said, " Daddy, I'm sorry about your truck." Then he asked, "but when are my fingers going to grow back?"
The father went home & committed suicide.
Think about the story the next time u see someone spill milk at a dinner table or hear a baby crying. Think first before u lose your patience with someone u love.
Trucks can be repaired.
Broken bones & hurt feelings often can't.
Too often we fail to recognise the difference between the person and the performance.
People make mistakes. We are allowed to make mistakes. But the actions we take while in a rage will haunt us forever.
Pause and ponder. Think before you act. Be patient. Understand & love.
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We are the one who know the way, show the way and lead the way... ;
