So never forget this. Life is not determined by the shape of your branches or by the size of your trunk. It's not about your shape. It's about your heart. It's about endurance. So, yes, winter is hell, but winter ends. Now stay in your spot and thrive. It never dies. When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself.
The Lotus Sûtra - The Parable of the Burning House
Bury your face in the dust— there may yet be hope. Enter the silence. Bow in prayer. Take it full-face. Isaiah The country will look like pine and oak forest.
The Parable of Fire
Every tree a stump, a huge field of stumps. How to Do the Impossible. September 5, Does God Have a Tattoo? August 31, How to Overcome the Raven. August 22, How to Survive Anything. August 15, August 2, July 27, October 24, October 5, May 10, The Parable of the Prodigal Demon. May 9, Recent Posts. May 12, Featured Posts. Robert Stofel.
Vintage Faith. Search By Tags. September 1. August 4. July 1. October 2. Janowski slept through part of each lesson, except that whenever he made a mistake, Mr. The doorbell rang. Randy stopped while Mr. Janowski answered it. A father and his daughter appeared in the doorway. I talked to you on the phone about starting my daughter with flute lessons. We just moved into town. Randy whispered the name to himself. As they came inside, Randy stood up, hoping for an introduction, but Mr. Janowski ignored him. The two adults left the room, leaving Randy and Michelle alone.
He watched while she took the flute out of the case and assembled it. A minute later she happened to drop her lesson book. The fishbowl nearly fell too, but he grabbed it at the last second.
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Finally he reached her book on the floor and handed it to her. On hands and knees they picked up the scattered sheet music. He was close enough to sense a delicious smell.
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He closed his eyes and sniffed. She picked up her flute and, unaware he was so close, quickly turned around. He had to duck to avoid being hit by the end of the flute as she swung around. Falling sideways, he crashed into the coffee table, knocking over another stack of music. The fishbowl fell to the floor and shattered. The goldfish flopped helplessly on the soggy music. He scooped it up in his hands and desperately looked around for some water.
Time was running out for the goldfish. Then he saw the open bathroom door.
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In the bathroom, he closed the drain to the wash basin, turned on the water and gently dropped the fish in. Then he looked in the mirror and practiced saying the word Michelle. She returned with a large soup pan.
He plunged his hand into the water, splashing water on himself, but coming up without the goldfish. He placed his hand on the drain mechanism, preparing to open it a little at a time. At that moment Mr. He looked over at the two scowling adults. When he looked back at the wash basin, the goldfish was gone. We were trying to save its life. Randy shrugged his shoulders and returned to the music room to put his trumpet in its case.
The phone rang and it was for his father. Randy quickly finished eating and went to his room to study. How about if we go for a pizza. A few minutes later, they sat down in the restaurant and ordered a pizza. My companion and I were working in Long Island. On one rainy day, we had to go to the mission office for supplies. Somewhere between leaving the car and walking into the mission home, I must have stepped in some mud. I saw the material we needed and walked over to get it.
That night after our meeting we got a call from one of the office elders. He told us that President West, our mission president, had seen the mess and told the housekeeper to leave it. He wanted us to go back the next morning and clean up our muddy footprints. They wanted us to drive all the way into the city through all the traffic and clean up our mess.
He told us that in life, try as we may, we all leave muddy footprints. I always remembered that. He called it the Parable of the Muddy Footprints. Does he have a dog? Did the fishbowl have a filter system on it? Why do you suppose he went to the trouble? Maybe he kept it for company.
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Maybe it gave him something to care for. Maybe he imagined the fish liked music. Maybe sometimes he talked to it, or had a name for it.