Friday, April 10, 2020

Sad Story Essay free essay sample

Sarah We moved to a small town where my husband was assigned as aminister to a local congregation. I was unpacking one day when thephone rang. A voice on the other end said, Your name was given tome as a possibility for a mentor in our school. Knowing very few peoplein town, I tried to imagine who might have volunteered me for this. Realizing the lady was waiting for an answer, I replied, Let me thinkabout it and call you back. I returned to my unpacking, but my mind was busy going over all thereasons I couldnt be a mentor. I wasnt even a parent, so how couldI work with kids. I wouldnt know what to do. I dont really have thetime. What if the child didnt like me? My list of excuses (uh, I meanreasons) was growing by the minute and I did a pretty good job oftalking myself out of it. We will write a custom essay sample on Sad Story Essay or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Suddenly a thought entered my mind. Connie, do you remember all thepeople that have taken time for you over the years? I knew this hadcome from God, certainly not from me, as I was too busy being selfishat the time. Faces of family, friends, teachers, and coworkers crossed my mindand all that theyd sacrificed to help me. I was a shy child and Godplaced many loving, patient people along my lifes journey. He knewwho I would need at various points to help me through that particularperiod of my life. Could I do any less for someone else? I was still hesitant, but placed a call to the school and agreed to bea mentor. The lady in the office said, I have a fourth grade girl whoreally needs some help. Just sign in at the school office and we askthat you come one hour each week. The only other things I knew wereher name, Sarah, and that she came from a poor home situation. I was nervous as I arrived for our first mentoring session. I was shownto Sarahs classroom and introduced to her. A room down the hall wasavailable for us to meet in and off we went. I sensed this was going tobe a long hour. Nothing prepared me for what happened that day. Wanting to put Sarah at ease, I said, Let me tell you a little aboutmyself and then you can tell me about yourself. So, I rattled offsome facts and then waited for her to talk. Total silence greeted me. Her long hair hung across her face and she didnt even look at me whenI was talking. We sat in silence for a few minutes and it soon becameobvious she wasnt going to share any information about herself. I hadto think of something quick. Questionswasnt that how you got information from others? Tell meabout your family. When that didnt get any response, I tried, Whatare your favorite subjects in school? Then I ventured, Do you haveany favorite foods? Nothing. Not even a faint shrug of her shoulders. All my fears that I would fail at this came rushing in at once. Howcould I help a child when she wouldnt even speak to me? Not knowing what else to do I said, Why dont we go back to youclassroom? She almost bolted from the room and was down thehall and back in her class before I could even say good-by to her. I prayed about this over the next week and decided to give it alittle more time. I went back over the next several weeks and the scene wasrepeated over and over. I asked questions; she sat in silence. Her teacher assured me Sarah was benefiting from these sessions,but I failed to see what good I was doing. Then one week,something different happened. I had just asked Sarah another question when she looked at meand said, You ask too many questions. After I recovered fromthe shock of hearing her speak, I told her that one way to get meto stop asking questions was for her talk. From that time on, webegan to make progress in our relationship. Bit by bit, she began to share about herself. I want to be a beauticianwhen I graduate from high school, she would often tell me. Sincemost of her family never went beyond ninth or tenth grade, this wassurprising to hear from her. We celebrated such things as improvedgrades and the fact that she was becoming more assertive in expressingherself. On the rare occasion when Id see her parents, they would tellme that Sarah talked about me all the time. I was thrilled to watch herblossom and I hoped that one day we might even be able to talk aboutChristianity. Sarah knew that I was a pastors wife, but I did bring up matters offaith with her as I didnt feel that was my role with her in that setting. As we grew more comfortable with each other, she would occasionallymention church, but nothing deeper. Sarah surprised me one day by greeting me with, Can I call you onthe phone sometime? I was pleased she felt that safe with me andagreed she could call once a week. When she did call, there wouldbe a period of silence and then Id hear, Hi, followed by more silence. After some discussion about how to have a telephone conversation,she began to be more at ease on the phone and would sometimeschat with me as if we were girlfriends. The staff at school couldntbelieve she was calling me and sharing herself so freely. Sarah and I began our relationship when she was in the fourth gradeand continued till she was in high school. We moved at that time,but I still got the occasional phone call from her to fill me in on whatwas happening. One day I received a very special call from Sarah. In numerous phone calls Sarah had mentioned that she was goingto a church near where she lived. I had encouraged her to keepdoing so, but really hadnt pushed her to make any kind of commitment. In one of her last phone calls to me she stated, I went forward atchurch and accepted Christ last Sunday and was baptized. Whata joyous announcement that was to hear! I havent heard from Sarah in quite some time, but she is always inmy heart and my prayers. Sometimes I reflect on the fact thatI almost didnt take the time to be a mentor to Sarah, it grievesme to think that I thought there was no time in my life to help her. I pray that Sarahs life will continue to move in positive directionsbecause of our relationship. She certainly blessed my life. I hope you will consider giving of your time and talents to a childin need. Please let a child know that someone believes in them. I think of it as an investment in our future. Be a mentor! I wonder where would I be today without the support of somany wonderful people. And, where would this child be if I hadnt taken. . . Connie L. Coppings 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 fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. Why, hes 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. Ive come to see if youve a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and theres no bus til morning. He told me hed been hunting for a room since noon but with no success. No one seemed to have a room. I guess its 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 for a few minutes. It didnt take 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 didnt tell it by way of complaint. In fact, every other sentence was preface with a 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 childrens 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 wont 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 dont seem to mind. I told him he was welcome to come again. 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 theyd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a. m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us. During 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 with 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 will always 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, Id 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 wouldnt mind starting out in this old pail. Its just for a little while, until I can put it out in the garden. She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining such a scene in heaven. Heres an especially beautiful one, God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. He wont mind starting in this small body. All this happened long ago and now, in Gods garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand. Mary Bartels Bray Mother and Son My mom only had one eye. I hated her, she was such an embarrassment. My mom ran a small shop at a flea market. Sh e collected little weeds and such to sell, anything for the money we needed she was such an embarrassment. There was this one day during elementary school. I remember that it was field day, and my mom came. I was so embarrassed. How could she do this to me? I threw her a hateful look and ran out. The next day at school Your mom only has one eye?! and they taunted me. I wished that my mom would just disappear from this world so I said to my mom, Mom, why dont you have the other eye?! Youre only going to make me a laughingstock. Why dont you just die? My mom did not respond. I guess I felt a little bad, but at the same time, it felt good to think that I had said what Id wanted to say all this time. Maybe it was because my mom hadnt punished me, but I didnt think that I had hurt her feelings very badly. That night I woke up, and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. My mom was crying there, so quietly, as if she was afraid that she might wake me. I took a look at her, and then turned away. Because of the thing I had said to her earlier, there was something pinching at me in the corner of my heart. Even so, I hated my mother who was crying out of her one eye. So I told myself that I would grow up and become successful, because I hated my one-eyed mom and our desperate poverty. Then I studied really hard. I left my mother and came to Seoul and studied, and got accepted in the Seoul University with all the confidence I had. Then, I got married. I bought a house of my own. Then I had kids, too. Now Im living happily as a successful man. I like it here because its a place that doesnt remind me of my mom. This happiness was getting bigger and bigger, when someone unexpected came to see me What?! Whos this?! It was my mother Still with her one eye. It felt as if the whole sky was falling apart on me. My little girl ran away, scared of my moms eye. And I asked her, Who are you? I dont know you!!! as if I tried to make that real. I screamed at her How dare you come to my house and scare my daughter! Get out here now! And to this, my mother quietly answered, oh, Im so sorry. I may have gotten the wrong address, and she disappeared. Thank good ness she doesnt recognize me. I was quite relieved. I told myself that I wasnt going to care, or think about this for the rest of my life. Then a wave of relief came upon me one day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house. I lied to my wife saying that I w as going on a business trip. After the reunion, I went down to the old shack, that I used to call a house just out of curiosity there, I found my mother fallen on the cold ground. But I did not shed a single tear. She had a piece of paper in her hand. it was a letter to me. My Son, I think my life has been long enough now. And I wont visit Seoul anymore but would it be too much to ask if I wanted you to come visit me once in a while? I miss you so much. And I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I decided not to go to the school. For you Im sorry that I only have one eye, and I was an embarrassment for you. You see, when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost your eye. As a mother, I couldnt stand watching you having to grow up with only one eye o I gave you mine I was so proud of my son that was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye. I was never upset at you for anything you did. The couple times that you were angry with me. I thought to myself, its because he loves me. I miss the times when you were still young around me. I miss you so much. I love you. You mean the world to me. My world shattered! Then I cried for the person who lived for me. My Mother. Passing Along A Little Spark Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys! begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mothers dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn. Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson hed always say, My moms going to hear me play someday. But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pic k him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in. Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching! Several weeks later I mailed to the students homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. Miss Hondorf Ive just got to play! he insisted. I dont know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be all right. The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my curtain closer. Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like hed run an eggbeater through it. Why didnt he dress up like the other students? I thought. Why didnt his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night? Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozarts Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on pianissimo to fortissimo from allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by a person his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. Ive never heard you play like that Robby! Howd you do it? Through the microphone Robby explained: Well Miss Hondorf remember I told you my mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well. she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special. There wasnt a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be p laced into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. No, Ive never had a protigi but that night I became a protigi of Robbys. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you dont know why. (A footnote to this story) After serving in Desert Storm, Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he was reportedly. playing the piano. And now, a footnote to the story. This story has been passed around by e-mail. It has not yet been proven to be a true story as no mention has been made of the exact name of the music teacher nor of the boy. The story proves that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities a day to help realize Gods plan. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a spark of the Divine? Special Delivery Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the Surgeon come out of the operating room, saying: How is my little boy? Is he going to be O. K.? When can I see him? The surgeon responded, Im sorry, we did all we could. Sally said, Why do little children get cancer, doesnt GOD care any more? GOD, where were you when my son needed you? The surgeon softly told her, One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes to let you spend time with your sons remains before its transported to the university. Sally asked that the nurse stay with her while she said good-bye to her son. As she ran her fingers through his thick red curly hair, the nurse said, Would you like a lock of his hair? Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of his hair and p ut it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally. She gazed at her son’s body as she spoke to the nurse. It was Jimmys idea to give his body to the university for study. He said it might help somebody else, and that is what he wanted. I said, no at first, but Jimmy said, ‘Mom I wont be using it after I die, maybe it will help some other little boy to be able to spend one more day with his mother’. My Jimmy had a heart of gold, always thinking of someone else and always wanting to help others if he could. Sally walked out of the Childrens Hospital for the last time now after spending most of the last 6 months there. She sat the bag with Jimmys things in it on the seat beside of her in the car. The drive home was hard and it was even harder to go into an empty house. She took the bag to Jimmys room and started placing the model cars and things back in his room exactly where he always kept them. She lay down across his bed and cried herself to sleep holding his pillow. Sally woke up about midnight and lying beside her on the bed, was a letter folded up. She opened the letter, it said: Dear Mom, I know youre going to miss me, but dont think that I will ever forget you or stop loving you because Im not around to say I LOVE YOU. Ill think of you every day mom and Ill love you even more each day. Some day we will see each other again. If you want to adopt a little boy so you wont be so lonely, he can have my room and my old stuff to play with. If you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldnt like the same things as us boys do, so you will have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like. Dont be sad when you think about me, this is really a great place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything here. The Angels are so friendly, and I love to watch them fly. Jesus doesnt look like any of the pictures I saw of Him, but I knew it was Him as soon as I saw Him. Jesus took me to see GOD! And guess what mom? I got to sit on GODS knee and talk to Him like I was somebody important. I told GOD that I wanted to write you a letter and tell you good-bye and everything, but I knew that wasnt allowed. God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter with. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel that is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him about â€Å"Where was He when I needed him? † God said, The same place He was when Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children. Oh, by the way Mom, nobody else can see what is written on this paper but you. To everyone else, it looks like a blank piece of paper. I have to give God His pen back now, He has some more names to write in the Book Of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. Im sure the food will be great. I almost forgot to let you know now I dont hurt anymore, the cancer is all gone. Im glad because I couldnt stand that pain anymore and God couldnt stand to see me suffer the pain either, so He sent The Angel of Mercy to get me. The Angel said I was Special Delivery!

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