THE BEAUTIFUL HEART
People literally spend millions and millions of dollars every year on beauty aids, enhancements, and surgeries just so they can look younger, prettier, sexier, etc. The sad thing is this: no matter how much time and effort a person tries to make themselves appear younger or look better, they will still get old. So…what should a person focus their time and energy on each day? The answer is this…THEIR HEART because this is what a person is REALLY made of. The following story is a terrific example of this concept. It illustrates to us in a picturesque way about the true beauty of an individual.
One day, in a heavily crowded place, a young man was shouting at the crowd.
“People look at me; I have the most beautiful heart in the world.”
Many people looked at him and were stunned to see the beautiful heart in a perfect shape, no little flaw, which looked quite amazing. Most of the people who saw his heart was mesmerized by the beauty of his heart and praised him.
However, there came an old man and challenged the young man, “No my son, I have got the most beautiful heart in the world!”
The young man asked, “Show me your heart, then!”
The old man showed his heart to him. It was very rough, uneven, and had scars all over the heart. Also, the heart was not in shape, appeared like bits and pieces joined together in various colors. There were some rough edges, some part of the heart were removed and filled with other pieces.
The heart of the old man simply looked like various pieces of heart joined together and formed as a heart.
The young man started laughing at his heart, “My dear old man, are you mad? See, my heart! How beautiful and flawless it is. You cannot find even a bit of imperfection in my heart. See, yours. It is full of scars, wounds and blemishes. How can you say your heart is beautiful?”
“Dear boy, my heart is just so beautiful as your heart is. Did you see the scars? Each scar represents the love I shared with a person. I share a piece of heart with others when I share love and in return I get a piece of heart, which I fix at the place where I had torn a piece!” said the old man.
The young man was shocked.
And the old man continued. “Since the pieces of heart I shared were neither equal nor in the same shape or size, my heart is full of uneven edges and bits and pieces.” “My heart is not in shape because sometimes I never get the love in return from those I gave it. So where do you see the real beauty? Your heart which looks fresh and fuller with no scars which indicates you never shared love with anybody. Did you?”
The young man stood still and never spoke a word. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He walked to the old man, tore a piece of his heart and gave the piece to the old man.
Many people give importance and respect to physical beauty. Yet, physical appearance isn’t the real beauty…the heart is! Like the old adage says: “Beauty really is only skin deep!”
LAS LAJAS SANCTUARY, COLUMBIA
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ROADS THROUGH TREES
This an amazing account of incredible sacrifice during World War 2 involving simple towns people.
The story is of a man, Andrew, who was known all his life for selfless sacrifice and good works. He always stood in defense of the defenseless, and toiled without tiring, standing up for the downtrodden and underprivileged. As he grew old, and people tried to honor him for his well-lived life of service, he was reluctant to accept the praise and attention that his community desired to heap upon him. It was then, for the first time, that he told a story that had burned deep in his heart and was hard for him to relate.
Andrew was a young man, thirteen years old and living in Austria, when the Germans invaded. The Austrians, brave and proud, decided to fight back. In the town where Andrew lived, the men and teenage boys organized and destroyed a power plant that the Germans relied on to continue their war effort. The men and boys all knew this would cause great hardship on themselves as well, for they also relied on the power from the plant. But the thing they had not counted on was the swift and severe retribution that would come from the Nazi invaders.
The next morning, before the sun was even up, trucks rolled into town. Soon, the sound of marching soldiers was heard in the streets. The men and boys of the town, twelve years old and older, were ordered to the town square. Andrew found himself standing in a line with the other men and boys, still trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes.
The commanding officer berated them, and told them they were fools to think they could stand against the might of the German army. He told them they were nothing, and their minuscule efforts would not slow down the German war effort, but it would hurt them because a price was going to be paid for their rebellion. He then said that every 20th man in the line would be shot.
As each 20th man was pulled from the line and marched away, Andrew looked down the line and started counting. With horror, he realized that he stood in a 20th position. He trembled with fear as the soldiers moved closer and closer to him, and the shots started to ring out at the edge of town where the unfortunate men were being taken.
As the Germans continued to move down the line, Andrew could see others counting and their eyes turning to him with a look of pity and concern. Andrew found himself wanting to flee, but too frightened to move. Even if he tried to run, the soldiers on the trucks, with the mounted machine guns, would cut him down before he could get ten yards.
But then, in the instant that the last man before Andrew was pulled from the line, the Germans turned their eyes away, and Andrew felt a hand on his shoulder. The hand tightened quickly, and before he knew what had happened, he was jerked forcibly over one spot, and the old man who had been standing next to him moved swiftly to switch positions.
Andrew looked up at the silver haired man and the man smiled. Just before he was taken from the line and led away, the old man spoke quietly to Andrew. “Your life is no longer just your own. Live it for both of us.”
Andrew watched silently as the old man disappeared from view toward the edge of the village. His heart jumped as the shots sounded, shots that Andrew knew should have been his own. In that instant, tears flowing down his face, he determined he would indeed live his life for both of them. From that day he had tried to live so that the unknown old man would have felt his sacrifice was well repaid.
Each time I consider the flags flying by the many graves in the cemetery, thinking back on Andrew’s story, I realized that no one’s life belongs just to them. Each of us owes a debt to many who have paid prices through hardship, hard work, and even the sacrifice of their lives, from which we have benefited.
With the wind gently whipping the flags in the breeze, I, too, renewed my own dedication in how I live my life.
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