Category Archives: Story
At the beginning of a busy week, I boarded my flight from Los Angeles to Detroit and settled into an aisle seat, grateful that the client I was going to visit had agreed to pay for first-class travel. A young man in a charcoal-gray suit, with a neatly trimmed beard, hoisted his luggage into an overhead bin, folded his jacket neatly on top of his roll-on bag, and took the seat across the aisle from me. A female flight attendant took orders for drinks; I asked for water. The young man wanted nothing.
The second characteristic of a person with a caring mindset is being thoughtful. By thoughtful I mean that the person is attentive to others, considerate, unselfish, and helpful. When we place ourselves in another person’s shoes, or see things from another’s point of view, and then act for their benefit—when we are being empathetic—we are practicing what it means to be thoughtful.
As the flight attendant was serving drinks to the passengers in first class, the people flying coach began to board. Among them was an elderly, frail-looking man with wispy white hair. He took the aisle seat in the first row behind the bulkhead separating the first-class and coach sections of the plane. When the attendant was finished taking care of those of us in first class, she paused near the man. Looking up, he asked her for a glass of water. The attendant explained that drinks were not served in the coach section until after takeoff.
He persisted, repeating his request again, saying, “I’m very thirsty. Can’t you please get me a glass of water?” The attendant again refused to accommodate his request, using the same dismissive, rather official tone she had used in response to his first request. Her voice had a robotic quality to it—it was clear she did not care whether or not this older gentleman was thirsty—only that it was “against the rules” to provide a simple glass of water. I understood that she was following the airline’s policy, but was nonetheless surprised and somewhat put off that she denied the elderly man’s request. Others in the first-class section seemed perturbed and concerned as well; we looked at one another anxiously, searching for an ally, but no one got up or said anything to the attendant. Suddenly the young man across the aisle from me left his seat, went to the attendant’s galley, and returned with a glass of water. He handed the glass of water to the man and returned to his seat, ignoring the glare of the attendant, who seemed dumbfounded and annoyed by his actions. The rest of us near the old man who witnessed the incident gave the young man a round of applause. Feeling relieved for the old man, but a bit ashamed that I didn’t get him a glass of water myself, I vowed to myself that going forward, I would be as thoughtful and action-oriented as the young man was.
During a trip to India, I was in a taxi in Calcutta, the capital of the Indian state of West Bengal, stuck in traffic. Once India’s leading city, Calcutta has been in steady economic decline for many years. It is perhaps best known for its crowded, fetid slums, rickshaws—and Mother Teresa, who lived there. It is a chaotic, crazy place: the traffic, the noise, the colors, the jarring juxtaposition of the richest of the rich rubbing shoulders with the poorest of the poor. The city is a storm of sounds, smells, colors that assault your senses.
My taxi was inching along a street teeming with people. There was a Mercedes in front of us, a rickshaw behind us, a cow, an overcrowded bus, shouting vendors, and men on mopeds whizzing by on either side. A man clad in rags slept on a filthy blanket on the sidewalk. Through the window of the car I saw a naked child, seven or eight years old, reaching his hand in a street drain.
I asked my cabdriver what the child was doing.
The driver told me, “Sir, don’t look at it. Just ignore it.” I was flabbergasted that he referred to the young boy as “it.”
I said, “No, no. I want to understand. What is he doing? ” Once again he told me to ignore the child.
Frustrated, I said, “Just stop here.”
I got out of the car and, using the local language, I asked the child what he was doing.
He said, “Sir, I’m just seeing if any food is passing through this drain.”
“What do you do with the food? ” I asked. He said, “I dig it out, wash it, and eat it.”
I was speechless. I did not know what to say. I was completely frozen for several seconds that seemed a lot longer.
When I regained my wits, I took the boy to a sweet shop nearby and told the man behind the counter, “Whatever this child wants, give it to him.” He chose a few things, I paid for them, and then we parted. My taxi had not advanced very far and I got in again.
I did not think ahead before taking the child to the shop. It was an instantaneous reaction, much like the actions of the young man on the plane. Having witnessed extreme poverty during my childhood in Bangladesh, I knew that any human being, if they were hungry enough, might be forced to gather food from the gutter. If someone is starving and cannot afford anything to eat, and I can afford it, should I not help? Of course, I realize I cannot help to feed all of the hungry people in the world. But in that moment, it was my responsibility to help that child. Nothing more, nothing less. For that one moment I was able to have a small positive impact on the world around me, just as the young man on the plane that day made a difference to the elderly man.
I believe there are moments like that in everyone’s day, although perhaps not so extreme or dramatic. Metaphorically, these are moments when a colleague, a friend, or a family member has a hand in a drain, searching for something they need in a difficult time, or who simply needs a “glass of water.” Those moments are opportunities to act in a thoughtful way: to be attentive to others, considerate, unselfish, and provide comfort or aid.
Barbara, the wife of Kent, a good friend of mine, hurt her back, and given the pain, went to see a top back doctor. The doctor recommended surgery for a disk problem. She postponed the procedure for eight months, until the pain became so severe that she could not stand up straight. At that point her doctor, alarmed, told her, “Tomorrow morning, six a.m., you show up for surgery.” The next morning he did the procedure.
Kent was in the waiting room while Barbara was in surgery. After forty-five minutes, the surgeon sent a nurse to tell him, “The operation will take another forty-five minutes, but the doctor will see to it that your wife’s pain is gone.”
After the surgery was completed, the surgeon came to the waiting room to tell Kent that all had gone well and that Barbara was in the recovery area. Kent and the doctor knew each other; they had friends in common and sometimes showed up at the same social events.
Kent told the doctor, “Thank you for letting me know that Barbara will be okay. Thank you for also sending the nurse to reassure me.”
The doctor said, “Normally the kind of surgery I do can take four or five hours, sometimes more. So I try to keep the patient’s family in mind. I know that they are concerned and that they worry. So I do my best to keep them informed.”
Then Kent asked him the question that was on his mind. “Did you have the nurse come out especially for me, or is that something you always do? ” And was the practice part of the doctor’s training or a policy of the hospital? In other words, was this common among doctors?
With a smile, the doctor said, “No, it is not a policy of the hospital. Nor was it part of my training. I just feel it is the thoughtful thing to do—for all my patients, not just the ones I know personally.”
Being thoughtful is a two-step process. The first step involves listening: at work, to your customers and your employees; at home, to your spouse and to your children; in your personal life, to your doctor, elders, trusted friends, or experts. A typical study on our ability to listen (there are many out there) suggests that we listen about 45 percent of the time we spend communicating with others. But results of such studies vary widely and depend on the group of people in the study. For example, a 1980 study of United States college students reported that they listen 53 percent of the time spent in communication with others, while a study conducted in 2006 reported the time spent listening was as little as 24 percent.
Despite the wide variations in results, it is clear to me that we can draw two conclusions. First, listening is the communication skill we use most often. Second, we are generally not very good at it. One study reports that the average person listens at only about 25 percent efficiency. A study of more than eight thousand people found that almost all of them believed they communicate as effectively as, or more effectively than, their co-workers. But of course that is not possible; everybody cannot be average or above average.
Whatever the amount of time we spend listening, I think we can all agree that listening is a critically important skill, and that we can do better. If you don’t listen to others, you cannot possibly be thoughtful. Yet most of us do not believe that we need to improve our listening skills; we overestimate our ability to listen purposefully and thoughtfully. We often mistake listening casually to someone speak as understanding what they’re saying. Yet too often we’re thinking about what we’re going to say in reply when it’s our turn to talk.
At the end of the day, our ability to truly listen to others is in our hands. We can all improve our ability to listen.
Listening to others purposefully involves not just hearing what they have to say, but trying to put yourself in their shoes. It involves empathy and understanding. Simply imagining that you understand what the other person is trying to say, without attempting to fully grasp why the other person is telling you what they are saying, does not demonstrate good listening skills. Yet I see this all the time in my consulting work. It is especially true of managers who are in other ways very smart people. They are so busy that they often don’t fully hear what the other person is trying to communicate; as a result, they jump to conclusions about what is being said, when they really only have half the picture. Why? They didn’t listen carefully enough, with purpose.
I have been thinking, thinking too hard. I have been thinking about a certain girl. I have tried distracting myself with fun and boring events. I have tried to get her out of my mind. And then today I heard a quote, that was supposedly intended to make me feel better about this girl, but after I had heard some song whose search has been consuming most of my brain power, my mind came back to this girl again.
There is nothing special about this girl, just that I saw myself in her, like déjà vu. She is around 6 or 7 years, slightly emaciated, and generally weak. I was in town (Nairobi, Kenya) two days ago, and I felt a soft hand touch my left hand, kinda like I still reserve the autonomy to listen, and the fact is, I didn’t. I continued to walk. She followed me holding my wrist, and after walking some few meters, I finally decided to look. It was some young girl holding some sweets up high in the hope that I may buy one. I kindly took her hand off my wrist and told her “next time.” Immediately after, I felt so deeply awful about myself that I looked back, but when I almost turned back, I convinced myself that I will find her there when I am coming back. I usually give out coins to the unfortunate in the streets, and once a hundred. I had coins, in fact I had one in my hand, several other in my pocket, few hundreds, and one or two thousand. I was going to use then to buy some pants.
But this girl wasn’t begging, she was asking me to buy her sweets at whatever cost I feel fair, just so maybe she may add the profit to her savings to buy some food. I bet her mom was around, probably breast-feeding her younger brother. The probable reason I didn’t buy is because I had a lot in my mind, or I just didn’t care, or maybe am changing. My kindness is leaving my soul. And this is frightening to the bones.
I am planning of starting a software company, how will I make it against the great tide of corruption, injustice, and morally ill society? If I can’t be kind to those below me, how do I expect those above me to sign me business contracts? Humility has always been something I have prided myself of possessing, but I don’t feel the same anymore. However, this incident brought me back to my roots, hopes and dreams. I want to start a company to find money to build a children’s home. And a hospital and school for them. And I will.
The quote I read was
“The production of too many useful things results in too many useless people.”
― Karl Marx
This quote implies that excess is harmful and dangerous, and it does not matter if it is the excessive creation of something really good, as even in positive things excess turns into negative consequences. I like the quote because it’s different and twisted, but what bad could happen if everybody loved, cared and treated their neighbor with respect, honor and as equal to themselves?
Holiness is not righteousness. Holiness is not goodness. Holiness is uprightness. Holiness is a lifestyle of genuine goodness and pure righteousness from the inside the inside to the outside. The direction is key, from the inside to the outside. Your soul needs to walk holiness before your body does, but your body must also walk holiness.
Goodness is the state of being kind, caring and loving. Absolute goodness is being sincerely selfless, it doesn’t require love, or kindness, or care. It just requires, sincere selflessness. Absolute goodness is difficult to live by, but we can have moments of experiencing it… it is when you feel like you can do something that has never been done, or have never imagined yourself doing, in order to save some soul that is completely strange to you, just before you ask yourself “why me!”
Righteousness is a lifestyle of a conscious soul that is self-aware of its part and role in the universe, when you understand what is right and wrong, what is right but should not be done, and what is wrong and can be done if need be.
Uprightness is being fatherly to all children, even those that you have not sired, it is being motherly to all kids, it is being sisterly to all of your age; prostitutes, prisoners, and nuns. Uprightness is in the knowledge of when to be Just and when to be Fair. Uprightness is a competition against one’s self ability to heal the suffering of others, to be wise, to be kind, to love and to be the best version of your real you.
Uprightness is when you try to live the most moments of your life trying to be absolutely good, trying to understand others and yourself, trying to be humble in your thinking and living, it is trying to literally experience what others experience not so that you might just help them, but so you can respect their strength in enduring. It is being diligent at work, it is being without red blemish, it is singing to your soul a song of meekness. Uprightness is being keen to instructions and kind to knowledge.
Religion is simply a form of Meditation...
A friend of mine, an atheist friend of mine couldn’t stand my strong co-existence full belief of a supernatural deity, and a perfect understanding and acceptance of science. So he said I was suffering from Pascal’s wager. For description purposes, Pascal’s wager is the ability to harmoniously harbor two conflicting ideas.
I have always considered myself an apologetic given by the number of incidences I stood up for religion and Christianity truth, but my comfort and most of my recognition comes from cutting all paranoia I religion, basically saying what is pure truth, not just the bible truth. There is one incidence that that scared me when I read the book of Urantia, and wanted to consult its authenticity, but there is no one, even the most educated pastors and bishops who even had the idea that such a book existed. One very prominent tried to call it a bible comentally, his ignorance scared me to the bone.
According to a certain theory of the origin of knowledge, one is born with all the knowledge, but in the process of birth they forget everything, so they spend their lifetime trying to re-call and remember what they forgot at birth. The other theory of course says the opposite but my point is…I have personally managed to attain answers to some of my most difficult questions by merely meditating and continually thinking over a topic for a considerable good time, sometimes even a year.
There is one instance I was walking to work and something just came into my mind, “Religion is Meditation.” I know I had been previously advocating this notion earlier but this time it was heavier. I always believed, that God is greater than religion, greater than the bible and greater than everything else, including our comprehension. But now, if religion is meditation, then that makes every concept of religion physical, not divine.
So, is there a God? A Force? Or an Energy that controls anything? Id answer that question with… “First, there is obviously a time for everything, an opportunity or a chance for every event. Second, there exists a watch man that watches over every event and assists everything remain in balance. And third, there also exists a watch maker, the uncaused cause, the immovable mover.” It is my understanding this sounds poetic or artistic, but truth be said, we are all part of a bigger endless, but finite game. Some are pones, others are queens, others are born kings, others just provide the playground, we call them the king makers.
I have a dream,
My future, can I trust you with my dream?
My dream, can I trust you with my youth?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have a secret,
My spouse, can I trust you with my secret?
My secret, can I trust you with my weakness?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have a story,
My friend, can I trust you with my story?
My story, can I trust you with my past?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have some faith,
My church, can I trust you with my faith?
My faith, can I trust you with my logic?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have some cash,
My today, do I trust you with my cash?
My cash, do I trust you with my tomorrow?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have education,
Mr. Employer, can I trust you will consider my education?
My education, can I trust you in my interview?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have a freewill,
My freedom, can I trust you with my freewill?
My freewill, can I trust you with my character?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have principles,
My life, can I trust you will live my principles?
My principles, can I trust you with my humanity?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I have emotions,
My steadfastness, can I trust you with my emotions?
My emotions, can I trust you with my moods?
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
I listen carefully,
Do I trust you have good intentions?
How do I trust you don’t intend me to open up?
What do you want to know when I start to open up?
I fear, am afraid, I fear, I don’t want to speak…
Who is trustworthy, who do I trust?
…one night as his wife was serving dinner, he held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.
She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions. She didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month, we both try to live as normal a life as possible. Her reason for this conditions were simple. Our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that every day for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.
I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me. She had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last-minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, it was just like our wedding day.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy. I drove to office and jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The sales girl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, “I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart”.
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed – dead.
My wife had been fighting cancer for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son— I’m a loving husband.
Moral: The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. And have a real happy marriage.
Safaricom is Kenya’s best mobile service provider…but they suck, they are disgusting, they exploit, the only care about their profits, and their customer care line is always busy…ever busy!!
I recently bought their data bundles at 10/= Kenya shilling for 10 MB and 10 SMS. That sounds fair to me as well to everyone since I only wanted to check my email! And before I could finish opening the last email, a message from Safaricom came, “Your Daily Data Bundle balance is below 2.00 MB. Dial *544# to purchase or Okoa Internet bundle.” And then I decided to open my twitter account and after like 1.7 minutes, they sent me a USSD message telling me that I have an option browsing at 0.45 cents per MB. I immediately opened my calculator and started clicking…0.45*20=9…so I can use 20 MB for only 9 bob? Well then I bought nine shillings from my M-Pesa account and started browsing immediately BUT after I first checked how many data bundles I have used since I bought my phone…after like 2 or 3 minutes, another USSD message pops up this time saying I have a remainder of 1 bob. And I thought to myself, maybe something is synchronizing or updating on the background without my knowledge…but the data count should still count those data bundles, eeh? So let me check by how much did the count increase by. To my surprise, believe it or not, I had only used 2 MB extra! So like they only give 10% of what they promise.
Someone should create something better than M-Pesa and we’ll all swim away from Safaricom…they didn’t even create it! They just copyrighted a student’s idea, and it became theirs… According to filtered rumours that reached to my ears, the original owner of the idea was given ground $50,000 while Safaricom earns approximately $125,000 from the implementation of the idea, DAILY!!!
This is what a guy wrote to a Systems Analyst –
(Marriage Software Div);
Dear Systems Analyst,
I am desperate for some help! I recently upgraded my program from Girlfriend 7.0 to Wife 1.0 and found that the new program began unexpected Child Processing and also took up a lot of space and valuable resources.
This wasn’t mentioned in the product brochure. In addition Wife 1.0 installs itself into all other programs and launches during systems initialization and then it monitors all other system activities.
Applications such as “Boys’ Night out 2.5” and “Golf 5.3” no longer run, and crashes the system whenever selected. Attempting to operate selected “Soccer 6.3” always fails and “Shopping 7.1” runs instead. I cannot seem to keep Wife 1.0 in the background whilst attempting to run any of my favorite applications. Be it online or offline.
I am thinking of going back to “Girlfriend 7.0”, but uninstall doesn’t work on this program. Can you please help?
…. The Systems Analyst replied:
This is a very common problem resulting from a basic misunderstanding of the functions of the Wife 1.0 program. Many customers upgrade from Girlfriend 7.0 to Wife 1.0 thinking that Wife 1.0 is merely a UTILITY AND ENTERTAINMENT PROGRAM. Actually, Wife 1.0 is an OPERATING SYSTEM designed by its Creator to run everything on your current platform.
You are unlikely to be able to purge Wife 1.0 and still convert back to Girlfriend 7.0, as Wife 1.0 was not designed to do this and it is impossible to uninstall, delete or purge the program files from the System once it is installed.
Some people have tried to install Girlfriend 8.0 or Wife 2.0 but have ended up with even more problems. (See manual under Alimony/Child Support and Solicitors’ Fees).
Having Wife 1.0 installed, I recommend you keep it Installed and deal with the difficulties as best as you can. When any faults or problems occur, whatever you think has caused them, you must run the………
C:\ APOLOGIZE\ FORGIVE ME.EXE Program and avoid attempting to use the *Esc-Key for it will freeze the entire system.
It may be necessary to run C:\ APOLOGIZE\ FORGIVE ME.EXE a number of times, and eventually hope that the operating system will return to normal.
Wife 1.0, although a very high maintenance programme, can be very rewarding.
To get the most out of it, consider buying additional Software such as “Flowers 2.0” and “Chocolates 5.0” or “HUGS\ KISSES 6.00.0” or “TENDERNESS\ UNDERSTANDING 1.000.0″ or even Eating Out Without the Kids 7.2.1” (if Child processing has already started).
DO NOT under any circumstances install “Secretary 2.1” (Short Skirt Version) or “One Night 3.2” (Any Mood Version), as this is not a supported Application for Wife 1.0 and the system will almost certainly CRASH.
Yours, Systems Analyst.
There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.
Finally the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.
The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, “You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say I’m sorry, the wound is still there.”
A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.