Making a Difference

Mark was walking home from school one day when he noticed the boy ahead of him had tripped and dropped all of the books he was carrying, along with two sweaters, a baseball bat, a glove and a small tape recorder. Mark knelt down and helped the boy pick up the scattered articles. Since they were going the same way, he helped to carry part of the burden. As they walked Mark discovered the boy’s name was Bill, that he loved video games, baseball and history, that he was having a lot of trouble with his other subjects and that he had just broken up with his girlfriend.

They arrived at Bill’s home first and Mark was invited in for a drink and to watch some television. The afternoon passed pleasantly with a few laughs and some shared small talk, then Mark went home. They continued to see each other around school, had lunch together once or twice, then both graduated from junior high school. They ended up in the same high school where they had brief contacts over the years. Finally the long awaited senior year came and three weeks before graduation, Bill asked Mark if they could talk.

Bill reminded him of the day years ago when they had first met. “Do you ever wonder why I was carrying so many things home that day?” asked Bill. “You see, I cleaned out my locker because I didn’t want to leave a mess for anyone else. I had stored away some of my mother’s sleeping pills and I was going home to commit suicide. But after we spent some time together talking and laughing, I realised that if I had killed myself, I would have missed that time and so many others that might follow. So you see, Mark, when you picked up my books that day, you did a lot more. You saved my life.”

-John W. Schlatter

Once upon a time ...

A farmer planted a peach tree in fertile soil.

Underneath the peach tree there lived a big earthworm, called a night crawler. It went through the soil by digging tunnels, and then using those tunnels to travel. It came up, usually at night and sometimes on wet rainy days, to eat the rotting leaves laying on top of the ground. It helped recycle the leaves by eating them and then turning them into castings to fertilize the soil. It went deep into the ground if the weather above was too hot or too cold.

Now the peach tree grew fast. Every Spring, it woke up. It had to bloom, grow leaves and bigger branches, and finally when it was old enough, have fruit by Summer. Else the farmer might chop it down.

Then in the Fall when it got colder, its leaves would change color and fall onto the ground. It was dormant all Winter long.

As the peach tree grew, it found out how difficult it was to grow its roots directly into the hard dirt. It looked for an easier way. So it began to grow its roots into the tunnels the night crawler had made. As the tree grew, its roots also grew, and soon the night crawler's tunnels were plugged shut.

The night crawler could not come up for food. So, in order to stay alive and keep from starving, it had to dig more tunnels. It did not like to do this, because, night crawlers are sort of lazy.

And the peach tree didn't like shedding its leaves each Fall just before the cold Winter.

But do you know what?

They were both helping each other, and by doing this, they were actually helping themselves.

The peach tree had to shed its leaves which the earthworm ate and the earthworm's castings fed the peach tree.

And the earthworm had to dig more tunnels which allowed the peach tree to grow bigger so that in the Fall there were plenty of good leaves (and maybe a peach or two that the farmer missed) for the earthworm to eat.

"And they lived happily ever after."

This is a story: about how what you do may unknowingly help the people around you. It is also a story about gratitude, hard work and working together.

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.  It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss.  What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry.  Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional.

Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives.  I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep.  But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

I was responding to a call from a small  brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick  up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a  worker heading  to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.   When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single  light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away.  But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of  danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.

"Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice.  I could hear something being dragged across the floor.  After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me.  She was wearing a print  dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.  The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years.  All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters, in the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.  I took the suitcase and walked slowly toward  the curb.  She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing", I told her.  "I just try to treat my passengers the  way I would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.  When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said.  "I'm in no hurry.  I'm on my way to a hospice".  I looked in the rearview mirror.  Her eyes were glistening.  "I don't have  any family left," she continued.  "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She  showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived  when they were newlyweds.  She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."   We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low  building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we  pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.  I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.

The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.  "How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.  She held onto  me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.  "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.  Behind me, a door shut.  It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift.  I drove aimlessly, lost in thought.  For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to  end his shift? What if I had  refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?  On a quick  review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully  wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER  EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

Kent Nerburn

A friend of mine was walking through the jungle. As he walked along, he saw another man in a distance, who seemed to be clapping into the air non-stop.

As my friend approached, he still cannot see what the other man was clapping into the air was for. A dance of sorts, perhaps? My friend was puzzled and approached the man. “Hello. What are you doing?”

The man replied. “I’m killing mosquitoes.”

“But there is simply too many of them. Can’t  you see that you’re still being bitten?”

The man smiled and clapped into the air. “Make a difference to that one!”

Once upon a time there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day he was walking along the shore. As he looked down the beach, he saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself to think someone who would dance to the day. So he began to walk faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he saw that it was a young man and the young man wasn’t dancing, but instead he was reaching down to the shore, picking up something and very gently throwing it into the ocean.

As he got closer he called out, “Good morning! What are you doing?” The young man paused, looked up and replied, “Throwing starfish in the ocean.”

“I guess I should have asked, why are throwing starfish in the ocean?”

“The sun is up and the tide is going out. And if I don’t throw them in they will die.”

“But young man, don’t you realise that there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it. You can’t possibly make a difference!”

The young man listened politely. Then bent down, picked another starfish and threw it into the sea, past the breaking waves and said, “it made a difference for that one.”

There is something very special in each and everyone of us. We have all been gifted with the ability to make a difference. And if we can become aware of that gift, we gain through the strength of our visions, the power to shape the future.

We must each find our starfish. And if we throw our stars wisely and well, the world will be blessed.

Once upon a time, a king had a great highway built for the people who lived in his kingdom. After it was completed, but before it was opened to the public, the king decided to have a contest. He invited as many of his subjects as desired to participate. The challenge was to see who could travel the highway the best, and the winner was to receive a box of gold.

On the day of the contest, all the people came. Some of them had fine chariots, some had fine clothing and fancy food to make the trip a luxurious journey. Some wore their sturdiest shoes and ran along the highway on their feet to show their skill. All day they travelled the highway and each one, when he arrived at the end, complained to the king about a large pile of rocks and debris that had been left almost blocking the road at one point, that got in their way and hindered their travel.

At the end of the day, a lone traveler crossed the finish line warily and walked over to the king. He was tired and dirty, but he addressed the king with great respect and handed him a small chest of gold. He said, “I stopped along the way to clear a pile of rocks and debris that was blocking the road. This chest of gold was under it all. Please have it returned to its rightful owner.”

The king replied, “You are the rightful owner.” “Oh no,” said the traveller, “This is not mine. I’ve never known such money.”

“Oh yes,” said the king. “You’ve earned this gold, for you won my contest. He who travels the road best is he who makes the road better for those who follow behind.”

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.

Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so she brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it so slowly, and then asked, How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she replied. “Mother has taught us never to accept pay for kindness.” He said…”Then I thank you from my heart.”

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

Many years later that same young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.

Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room. Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognised her at once.

He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to her case.

After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words…..

“Paid in full with one glass of milk” (Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed: “Thank You God, that Your love has spread broad through human hearts and hands.”

There’s a saying which goes something like this: Bread cast on the waters comes back to you. The good deed you do today may benefit you or someone you love at the least expected time. If you never see the deed again at least you will have made the world a better place.

And, after all, isn’t that what life is all about? The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which - To burn…

His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer.

One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.

The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman’s sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.

“I want to repay you,” said the nobleman. “You saved my son’s life.”

“No, I cant accept payment for what I did,” the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the offer.

At that moment, the farmer’s own son came to the door of the family hovel. “Is that your son?” the nobleman asked.

“Yes,” the farmer replied proudly.

“I’ll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy. If the lad is anything like his father, he’ll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of.”

And that he did. 

Farmer Fleming’s son attended the very best schools and in time, he graduated from St. Mary’ Hospital Medical School in London, and went onto become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discover of Penicillin.

Years afterward, the same nobleman’s son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia. What saved his life this time?

Penicillin.

The name of the noble man? Lord Randolph Churchill.

His son’s name? Sir Winston Churchill

Someone once said:

“What goes around comes around.

Work like you don’t need the money.

Love like you’ve never been hurt.

Dance like nobody’s watching.

Sing like nobody’s listening.

Live like it’s Heaven on Earth.”

A teacher in New York decided to honour each of her seniors in high school by telling them the difference they each made. Using a process developed by Helice Bridges of Del Mar, California, she called each student to the front of the class, one at a time. First she told them how the student made a difference to her and the class. Then she presented each of them with a blue ribbon imprinted with gold letters which read, “Who I Am Makes a Difference.”

Afterwards the teacher decided to do a class project to see what kind of impact recognition would have on a community. She gave each of the students three more ribbons and instructed them to go out and spread this acknowledgement ceremony. Then they were to follow up on the results, see who honoured whom and report back to the class in about a week.

One of the boys in the class went to a junior executive in a nearby company and honoured him for helping him with his career planning. He gave him a blue ribbon and put it on his shirt. Then he gave him two extra ribbons, and said, “We’re doing a class project on recognition, and we’d like you to go out, find somebody to honour, give them a blue ribbon, then give them the extra blue ribbon so they can acknowledge a third person to keep this acknowledgment ceremony going. Then please report back to me and tell me what happened.”

Later that day the junior executive went in to see his boss, who had been noted, by the way, as being kind of a grouchy fellow. He sat his boss down and he told him that he deeply admired him for being a creative genius. The boss seemed very surprised. The junior executive asked him if he would accept the gift of the blue ribbon and would he give him permission to put it on him. His surprised boss said, “Well, sure.”

The junior executive took the blue ribbon and placed it right on his boss’s jacket above his heart. As he gave him the last extra ribbon, he said, “Would you do me a favour? Would you take this extra ribbon and pass it on by honouring somebody else? The young boy who first gave me the ribbons is doing a project in school and we want to keep this recognition ceremony going and find out how it affects people.”

That night the boss came home to his 14 –year old son and sat him down. He said, “The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my office and one of the junior executive came in and told me he admired me and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. Imagine. He thinks I’m a creative genius. Then he put this blue ribbon that says “Who I Am Makes A Difference” on my jacket above my heart. He gave me an extra ribbon and asked me to find somebody else to honour. As I was driving home tonight, I started thinking about whom I would honour with this ribbon and I thought about you. I want to honour you.

“My day are really hectic and when I come home I don’t pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting good enough grades in school and for your bedroom being a mess, but somehow tonight, I just wanted to sit here and, well, just let you know that you do make a difference to me. Besides your mother, you are the most important person in my life, You’re a great kid and I love you!”

The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he couldn’t stop crying. His whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears, “I was planning on committing suicide tomorrow, Dad, because I didn’t think you loved me. Now I don’t need to.” 

Helice Bridges

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived half full.

For two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made.

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologise to you.” “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my sides causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all this work and don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took noticed of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the pat, and this cheered it up a bit. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again apologised to the bearer for its failure. 

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side?” That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I put it to good use. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and everyday while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them.

For two years, I have been able to pick these beautiful flower to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace this house.”

The moral of this story: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We’re all cracked pots. In this world, nothing goes to waste. You may think like the cracked pot that you are inefficient or useless in certain areas of your life, but somehow these flaws can turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Remember that nobody is perfect. 

“We don’t aim to be 100% better at one thing, but 1 % better at 100 things.”

It was the district track meet – the one we had been training for all season, My foot still hadn’t healed from an earlier injury. As a matter of fact I had debated whether or not I should attend the meet, But there I was, preparing for the 3200 meter run.

“Ready…set..” The gun popped and we were off. The other girls darted ahead of me. I realised I was limping and felt humiliated as I fell farther and farther behind.

The first –place runner was two laps ahead of me when she crossed the finish line. “Hooray!” shouted the crowd. It was the loudest cheer I had ever heard at a meet.

“Maybe I should quit,” I thought as I limped on. “Those people don’t want to wait for me to finish this race.” Somehow, though, I decided to keep going. During the last two laps, I ran in pain and decided not to compete in track next year. It wouldn’t be worth it, even if my foot did heal. I could never beat the girl who lapped me twice.

When I finished, I heard a cheer – just as enthusiastic as the one I’d heard when the first girl passed the finish line. “What was that all about?” I asked myself. I turned around and sure enough, the boys were preparing for their race. “That must be it; they’re cheering for the boys.” 

I went straight to the bathroom where a girl bumped into me. “Wow, you’ve got courage!” she told me.

I thought, “Courage? She must be mistaking me for someone else. I just lost a race!”

“I would have never been able to finish those two miles if I were you. I would have quit on the first lap. What happened to your foot? We were cheering for you. Did you hear us?”

I couldn’t believe it. A complete stranger had been cheering for me – not because she wanted me to win, but because she wanted me to keep going and not give up. Suddenly I regained hope. I decided to stick with track next year. One girl saved my dream.

That day I learned two things:

First, a little kindness and confidence in people can make a great difference to them.

And second, strength and courage aren’t always measured in medals and victories. They are measured in struggles we overcome. The strongest people are not always the people who win, but the people who don’t give up when they lose.

I only dreamt that someday – perhaps as a senior – I will be able to win the race with a cheer as big as the one I got when I lost the race as a freshman.

-Ashley Hodgeson

In a land far away, once upon a time there was great poverty: only the rich could manage without great problems. Three of those rich men, and their servants, were traveling on the same road, in a convoy, when they came to a very poor village. Seeing this poverty provoked different reactions in all three rich men.

The first couldn't stand to see it, so he took all the gold and jewels from his wagons and shared them out among the villagers. He wished them all the best of luck, and he left.

The second rich man, seeing the desperate situation, stopped for a short time, and gave the villagers all his food and drink, since he could see that money would be of little use to them. He made sure that each villager received their fair share and would have enough food to last for some time. Then, he left.

The third rich man, on seeing such poverty, speeded up and traveled straight through the village without stopping. The two other rich men saw this from a distance, and commented with each other how the third rich man lacked decency and compassion. It was good that they had been there to help the poor villagers...

However, three days later, they met the third rich man who was traveling in the opposite direction. He was still traveling quickly, but his wagons, instead of the gold and valuables they had been carrying, were now full of farming implements, tools, and sacks of seeds and grain. He was heading to the poor village to help them out of poverty.

This happened a long, long time ago, but we can see the very same thing happening today too. There are some generous people who give only so that people can see how much they are giving. They don't want to know anything about the people they are giving to.

Other generous people really try to help others, but only so that they can feel better about themselves.

But there are other generous people: the best kind. To them it doesn't matter what the other kinds of generous people think of them. Nor do they give in a showy way. Instead, they truly worry about how best to improve the lives of those they are helping. They give greatly of something much more valuable than money. They give their time, their vision and their lives

An old man meets a young man who asks:

“Do you remember me?”

And the old man says no.  Then the young man tells him he was his student, And the teacher asks:

“What do you do, what do you do in life?”

The young man answers:

“Well, I became a teacher.”

“ah, how good, like me?” Asks the old man.

“Well, yes.  In fact, I became a teacher because you inspired me to be like you.”

The old man, curious, asks the young man at what time he decided to become a teacher.  And the young man tells him the following story:

“One day, a friend of mine, also a student, came in with a nice new watch, and I decided I wanted it and I stole it, I took it out of his pocket.

Shortly after, my friend noticed the flight and immediately complained to our teacher, who was you. Then you went to the class:

‘This student's watch was stolen during classes today.  Whoever stole it, please return it.’

I didn't give it back because I didn't want to.  Then you closed the door and told us all to get up and you were going to search our pockets one by one until the watch was found.  But you told us to close our eyes, because you would only look for his watch if we all had our eyes closed.

So we did, and you went from pocket to pocket, and when you went through my pocket, you found the watch and took it.  You kept searching everyone's pockets, and when you were done you said ‘open your eyes. We have the watch.’

You didn't tell me and you never mentioned the episode. You never said who stole the watch either.  That day you saved my dignity forever.  It was the most shameful day of my life.

But this is also the day my dignity was saved and I decided not to become a thief, a bad person, etc. You never said anything, nor even scold me or took me aside to give me a moral lesson, I received your message clearly.

And thanks to you, I understood what a real educator needs to do.  Do you remember this episode, professor?

And the professor answers:

‘I remember the situation, the stolen watch, which I was looking for in everyone’s pocket, but I didn't remember you, because I also closed my eyes while looking.’

This is the essence of teaching:

If to correct you must humiliate; you don't know how to teach "