Why Do These Things
                      Have to Happen?
 



     
      One of my joys and passions is my voice. I love to perform 
  in our local community theaters. My throat became very sore 
  during a particularly grueling show run. It was my first time 
  performing an operatic piece, and I was terrified I had actually 
  done damage to my vocal cords. I was a lead and we were about to 
  open. So I made an appointment with my family doctor where I 
  waited for an hour. I finally left in a huff, went back to work, 
  grabbed a phone book and found a throat specialist close by. Once 
  more I made an appointment and off I went.
      The nurse showed me in and I sat down to wait for the 
  doctor. I was feeling very disgruntled. I rarely get sick and 
  here I was sick when I needed to be healthy. Besides, I had to 
  take time out of my workday to go to two different doctors, both 
  of whom kept me waiting. It was very frustrating. Why do these 
  things have to happen? A moment later the nurse came back in and 
  said, “May I ask you something personal?”
      This seemed odd; what else do they ask you but personal 
  questions in a doctor’s office? But I looked at the nurse and 
  replied, “Yes, of course.”
      “I noticed your hand,” she said a bit hesitantly.
  I lost half of my left hand in a forklift accident when I 
  was 11. I think it is one of the reasons I didn’t follow my dream 
  of performing in theater, although everyone says, “Gee, I never 
  noticed! You are so natural.” In the back of my mind I thought 
  that they only wanted to see perfect people on stage. No one 
  would want to see me. Besides, I’m too tall, overweight, not 
  really talented ... no, they don’t want to see me. But I love 
  musical comedies and I do have a good voice. So one day I tried 
  out at our local community theater. I was the first one they 
  cast! That was three years ago. Since then, I have been cast in 
  almost everything I tried out for.
      The nurse continued, “What I need to know is how it has 
  affected your life.”
      Never in the 25 years since it happened has someone asked me 
  this. Maybe they’ll say, “Does it bother you?” but never anything 
  as sweeping as, “How had it affected your life?”
      After an awkward pause, she said, “You see I just had a 
  baby, and her hand is like yours. I, we.., I need to know how it 
  has affected your life.”
      “How has it affected my life?” I thought about it a bit so I 
  could think of the right words to say. Finally, I said, “It has 
  affected my life, but not in a bad way - I do many things that 
  people with two normal hands find difficult. I type about 75 
  words a minute, I play guitar, I have ridden and shown horses for 
  years, I even have a Horsemaster Degree. I’m involved in musical 
  theater and I am a professional speaker, I’m constantly in front 
  of a crowd. I do television shows four or five times a year. I 
  think it was never ‘difficult’ because of the love and 
  encouragement of my family. They always talked about all the 
  great notoriety I would get because I would learn how to do 
  things with one hand that most people had trouble doing with two. 
  We were all very excited about that. That was the main focus, not 
  the handicap.
      “Your daughter does not have a problem. She is normal. You 
  are the one who will teach her to think of herself as anything 
  else. She will come to know she is ‘different.’ but you will 
  teach her that different is wonderful. Normal means you are 
  average. What’s fun about that?”
      She was silent for a while. Then she simply said, “Thank 
  you” and walked out.
      I sat there thinking, “Why do these things have to happen?” 
  Everything happens for a reason - even that forklift falling on 
  my hand. All the circumstances leading up to me being at this 
  doctor’s office and this moment in time happened for a reason.
      The doctor came in, looked at my throat and said he wanted 
  to anesthetize and put a probe down it to examine it. Well, 
  singers are very paranoid about putting medical instruments down 
  their throats, especially ones so rough they need to be 
  anesthetized! I said, “No thanks,” and walked out.
      The next day, my throat was completely better.
      Why do these things have to happen?
      
                        By Lilly Walters
          from A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul 
       Copyright 1995 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen 



How Much Is Enough ?
 



   
    The rich industrialist from the North was horrified to find the 
southern fisherman lying lazily beside his boat, smoking a pipe.
    "Why aren't you out fishing?" said the industrialist.
    "Because I have caught enough fish for the day," said the fisherman.
    "Why don't you catch some more?"
    "What would I do with them?"
    "You could earn more money," was the industrialist's reply. "With 
that you could have a motor fixed to your boat and go into deeper waters 
and catch more fish. Then you would make enough to buy nylon nets. These 
would bring you more fish and more money. Soon you would have enough 
money to own two boats . . . maybe even a fleet of boats. Then you would 
be a rich man like me."
    "What would I do then?" asked the fisherman.
    "Then you could really enjoy life."
    "What do you think I am doing right now?"
   
         		By Anthony DeMello
         	from Chicken Soup for the Soul at Work 
         Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, 
         	Maida Rogerson, Martin Rutte & Tim Clauss 
   
  




Hold Your Tongue




           
          Ida and David both wanted all their sons to graduate 
    from college. They knew their boys would have to pay their 
    own way since David never made more than $150 a month. 
    Still, they encouraged their sons to achieve all they 
    could. Arthur, however, went directly from high school 
    to a job. Edgar began studying law. When Dwight graduated 
    he didn't have a goal in mind, so he and Ed made a pact: 
    Dwight would work two years while Ed studied, sending Ed 
    as much as he could, and then they would reverse the 
    arrangement. While working Dwight found an opportunity 
    that appealed to him more than college - West Point.
          Both Ida and David were crushed by Dwight's decision.
    Ida was deeply convinced that soldiering was wicked. Still,
    all she ever said to him was, "It is your choice." David 
    also remained silent, allowing his adult son full freedom
    to forge his own future.
          Yes, Ida and David wisely held their tongues - but 
    they never withheld their applause, especially on the 
    day their son, General Dwight Eisenhower, became President 
    of the United States of America.
          
               From God's Little Devotional Book
              from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul 
               Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark 
                  Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk 





Courage of the Heart




        
       I sit on the rickety auditorium chair with the camcorder on 
  my shoulder and I can feel the tears well up in my eyes. My 
  six-year old daughter is on stage, calm, self-possessed, centered
  and singing out her heart. I am nervous, jittery, emotional and 
  trying not to cry.
       "Listen, can you hear the sound, hearts beating all the 
  world around?" she sings.
       Little round face turned up to the light, little face so 
  dear and familiar and yet so unlike my own thin features. Her 
  eyes look out into the audience with total trust . . . she 
  knows they love her. Eyes that don't look like mine.
       "Up in the valley, out on the plains, everywhere around 
  the world, heartbeats sound the same."
       The face of her birth mother looks out at me from the 
  stage. They eyes of a young woman that once looked into mine 
  with trust now gaze into the audience. These features my 
  daughter inherited from her birth mother . . . eyes that 
  tilt up at the corners and rosy, plump little cheeks that I 
  can't stop kissing.
       "Black or white, red or tan, it's the heart of the 
  family of man . . . oh, oh beating away, oh, oh beating 
  away," she finishes.
       The audience goes wild. I do, too. Thunderous applause,
  and they rise as one to let Melanie know they loved it. She 
  smiles . . . she already knew. Now I am crying. I feel so 
  blessed to be her mom . . . she fills me with so much joy that 
  my heart actually hurts.  The heart of the family of man 
  . . . the heart of courage that shows us the path to take 
  when we are lost . . . the heart that makes strangers one 
  with each other for a common purpose . . . this is the heart 
  Melanie's birth mother showed to me. Melanie heard her from 
  deep inside the safest part of her. This heart of courage 
  belonged to a sixteen-year-old girl . . . a girl who became 
  a woman because of her commitment to unconditional love. She 
  was a woman who embraced the concept that she could give her 
  child something no one else ever could . . . a better life 
  than she had.
       Melanie's heart beats close to mine as I hold her and 
  tell her how great she performed. She wiggles in my arms and 
  looks up at me. "Why are you crying, Mommie?"
       I answer her, "Because I am so happy for you and you 
  did so good all by yourself!" I can feel myself reach out 
  with tendrils of love and hold her with more than just my 
  arms. I hold her with love for not only myself, but for the 
  beautiful and courageous woman who chose to give birth to 
  my daughter, and then chose again to give her to me. I 
  carry the love from both of us . . . the birth mother with 
  the courage to share, and the woman whose empty arms were 
  filled with love . . . for the heartbeat that we share is 
  one.
       
                      By Patty Hansen
              from Condensed Chicken Soup for the Soul 
               Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark 
                 Victor Hansen & Patty Hansen 




Making Change




        
       A young boy went to a police department auction of bicycles 
  accumulated over a period of time. Each time the auctioneer 
  started the bidding, the boy would say, "I bid one dollar, sir." 
  The bidding would continue higher and higher until each bicycle 
  was sold to the highest bidder. Each time the boy would bid one 
  dollar. As the last bicycle to be sold was brought forth, the 
  little boy cried, "I bid one dollar, sir." The figures in the
  bidding rose higher and the auctioneer finally closed the 
  bidding at nine dollars to the little boy in the front row.
      Then the auctioneer reached into his pocket and pulled out 
  eight dollars and laid them on the counter; the little boy came 
  up and put his one dollar in nickels, dimes and pennies 
  alongside it, picked up his new bike, and started out the door. 
  Then he laid the bike down, ran back to the auctioneer and threw
  his arms around the auctioneer's neck and cried.
       
                       By Elder Featherstone,
                      Submitted by Jack ZoBell
                from A Cup of Chicken Soup for the Soul 
                    Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, 
                  Mark Victor Hansen & Barry Spilchuk 
   





BACK
HOME