a story we all could remember...

[Guest guest]

The Sandpiper

by

She was six years old when I first met her on the

beach near where I live.

I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four

miles, whenever the world

begins to close in on me She was building a sand

castle or something

and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

" Hello, " she said.

I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to

bother with a small child.

" I'm building, " she said.

" I see that. What is it? " I asked, not really

caring.

" Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand. "

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.

A sandpiper glided by.

" That's a joy, " the child said.

" It's a what? "

" It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us

joy. "

The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I

muttered to myself,

hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed,

my life seemed

completely out of balance.

" What's your name? " She wouldn't give up.

" , " I answered. " I'm . "

" Mine's ... I'm six. "

" Hi, . "

She giggled. " You're funny, " she said.

In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.

Her musical giggle followed me.

" Come again, Mr. P, " she called. " We'll have another

happy day. "

The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy

Scouts, PTA meetings,

and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning

as I took my hands out

of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to

myself, gathering up my coat.

The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me.

The breeze was

chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the

serenity I needed.

" Hello, Mr. P, " she said. " Do you want to play? "

" What did you have in mind? " I asked, with a twinge of

annoyance.

" I don't know. You say. "

" How about charades? " I asked sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. " I don't

know what that is. "

" Then let's just walk. "

Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her

face.

" Where do you live? " I asked.

" Over there. " She pointed toward a row of summer

cottages.

Strange, I thought, in winter.

" Where do you go to school? "

" I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation. "

She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the

beach, but my mind was

on other things. When I left for home, said it

had been a happy day.

Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and

agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of

near panic. I was in no

mood to even greet . I thought I saw her mother

on the porch and felt

like demanding she keep her child at home.

" Look, if you don't mind, " I said crossly when

caught up with me, " I'd

rather be alone today. " She seemed unusually pale and

out of breath.

" Why? " she asked.

I turned to her and shouted, " Because my mother died! "

and thought,

My God, why was I saying this to a little child?

" Oh, " she said quietly, " then this is a bad day. "

" Yes, " I said, " and yesterday and the day before and

-- oh, go away! "

" Did it hurt? " she inquired.

" Did what hurt? " I was exasperated with her, with

myself.

" When she died? "

" Of course it hurt! " I snapped, misunderstanding,

wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the

beach, she wasn't there.

Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I

missed her, I went up

to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door.

A drawn looking

young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

" Hello, " I said, " I'm . I missed your

little girl today

and wondered where she was. "

" Oh yes, Mr. , please come in. spoke of

you so much.

I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a

nuisance,

please, accept my apologies. "

" Not at all -- she's a delightful child. " I said,

suddenly realizing

that I meant what I had just said.

" died last week, Mr. . She had

leukemia.

Maybe she didn't tell you. "

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my

breath.

" She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we

couldn't say no.

She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what

she called happy days.

But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly... " Her

voice faltered, " She left

something for you, if only I can find it. Could you

wait a moment while I look? "

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say

to this lovely young

woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with " MR. P "

printed in bold

childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright

crayon hues -- a yellow beach,

a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was

carefully printed:

A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had

almost forgotten to love

opened wide. I took 's mother in my arms. " I'm

so sorry, I'm so sorry,

I'm so sorry, " I uttered over and over, and we wept

together. The precious little

picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six

words -- one for each year

of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage,

and undemanding love.

A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the

color of sand

-- who taught me the gift of love.

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NOTE: This is a true story sent out by

. It happened over 20

years ago and the incident changed his life forever.

It serves as a reminder

to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living

and life and each other.

The price of hating other human beings is loving

oneself less.

Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of

everyday traumas

can make us lose focus about what is truly important

or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.

This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra

hug, and by all means,

take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to

stop and smell the roses.

This comes from someone's heart, and is read by many

and now I share it with you...

May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are

NO coincidences!

Everything that happens to us happens for a reason.

Never brush aside

anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can

teach us?

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I wish for you, a sandpiper.

Spiritual freedom is my birthright.

I am a free thinker. I am able to rise above mental

prejudices and stereotypes of others.

I am a free thinker. Nobody and nothing can manipulate

me or deceive me.

I am a free thinker. I freely choose truth and love.

Today, I embrace a greater degree of spiritual

freedom.

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