How Poor We Really Are

One day, a wealthy family man took his son on a trip to the country so he could have his son see how poor country people were.

They stayed one day and one night in the farmhouse of a very humble farm. On the way back home at the end of the trip the father asked the son, "What did you think of the trip?"

The son replied, "Very nice, Dad."

The father then asked, "Did you notice how poor they were?"

The son replied, "Yes, I guess so."

The father then added, "And what did you learn?"

To this question, the son thought for a moment and answered slowly, "I learned that we have one dog in the house and they have four. We have a fountain in the garden and they have a stream that has no end.

"We have fancy lanterns in our garden, while they have the stars. Our garden goes to the edge of our yard, but for their back yard, they have the entire horizon!"

At the end of the son's reply, the rich father was speechless. His son then added: "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we really are."

While having money is definitely an added perk it in no way ensures happiness. Eizehu Ashir? HaSameach Bicholko; Who is rich? He who is happy with his lot. It's easy to stand from a  distance and look at those more well off and wish we could be like them or speculate that they have everything. This though is falsehood for we have no way of knowing what is really going on in their lives and if in fact we are the ones who are actually "richer."


 "The real measure of your wealth is how much you'd be worth if you lost all your money."

Who Packs Your Parachute?

Charles Plumb, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate, was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane as destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"

"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.

"I packed your parachute," the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!" Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn’t be here today."

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning, how are you?' or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."

Plumb thought of the man hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory-he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety.

Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason.

As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize the people who pack your parachute.

The Most Beautiful Flower

I’ve recently been doing some “fall” cleaning and decided to tackle the bin in my room that contains all my school stuff. Call me sentimental or maybe just a good ole' hoarder but I have every notebook and folder from my entire High School years. Sifting through my papers I came across a poem that I actually clearly remember reading in school and enjoying. I’m a firm believer in, and I’m sure I’ve mentioned it in previous posts, the concept of Hashgacha Pratis. That there is absolutely no such thing as coincidence and everything down to the most minute of details happens for a reason. My finding this poem when I did was exactly the pick me upper I needed.


The Most Beautiful Flower


The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read 
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree 
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown  
For the world was intent on dragging me down. 


And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, 
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play. 
He stood right before me with his head tilted down  
And said with great excitement, "Look what I  found!" 


In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,  
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.  
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, 
I faked a small smile and then shifted away. 


But instead of retreating he sat next to my side 
And placed the flower to his nose  
And declared with overacted  surprise,  
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. 
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you." 


The weed before me was dying or dead.  
No vibrant colors: orange, yellow or red. 
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.  
So I reached for the flower and replied.  "Just what I need." 


But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,  
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.  
It was then that I noticed for the very first time  
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind. 


I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun  
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.  
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see  
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me. 


And for all of those times I myself had been blind,  
I vowed to see the beauty in life, 
And appreciate every second that's mine.  
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose  
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose  
And smiled as I watched that young boy,  
Another weed in his hand,  
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.  

It’s so easy for me when I’m feeling down or something isn’t going as I planned for it to,  for me to mope about and feel sorry for myself.

But every minute I waste being upset is taking away a minute of my life that I can be happy.

There is so much love and beauty out there, so much to be valued and cherished why waste time dwelling on something “bad” that most likely is out of my control to change anyways.

If only to take one minute and find the splendor of that graceful rose in the wilting weed; for it is actually the weeds that give growth and strength for the emerging rose to shine.

Look at life’s obstacles not as stumbling blocks or hindrances but rather as stepping stones for the great things that are yet to come.

A wonderful Succos to you all!

Imperfectly Perfect

An elderly woman and her little grandson, whose face was sprinkled with bright freckles, spent the day at the zoo. Lots of children were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws.

"You've got so many freckles, there's no place to paint!" a girl in the line said to the little fellow.

Embarrassed, the little boy dropped his head. His grandmother knelt down next to him. "I love your freckles. When I was a little girl I always wanted freckles," she said, while tracing her finger across the child's cheek. "Freckles are beautiful."

The boy looked up, "Really?"

"Of course," said the grandmother. "Why just name me one thing that's prettier than freckles."

The little boy thought for a moment, peered intensely into his grandma's face, and softly whispered, "Wrinkles."

Not sure if this story actually happened or not but I love the lesson it brings out.

We live in a shallow vain world where it’s very easy to pick ourselves apart and feel insecure.

I believe there are no such things as physical flaws; just different imperfections that make us unique in our own special way :)

If You Wouldn't Write It and Sign It, Don't Say It. --Earl Wilson

So Yom Kippur is done and over with and a brand new year lies ahead of us. The slate has been wiped clean and we find ourselves once again trying to keep it clean.

I came across this next story and thought it was a good lesson to start off.

More than all the good I hope to accomplish this upcoming year I feel very strongly about working on some things I should refrain from doing. As someone who loves to talk (maybe a little bit too much at times) I often don’t realize just how much of what I say can be idle talk or G-d forbid harmful talk.

There once was a little girl who could not control her bad temper. So, her mother gave her a bag of nails and told her that every time she lost her temper, she must hammer a nail into the back of the fence.

The first day the girl had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as she learned to control her anger, the number of nails she hammered daily gradually dwindled down. She discovered it was easier to hold her temper than to drive those nails into the fence.

Finally the day came when the girl didn't lose her temper at all. She told her mother about this and her mother suggested that now she pull out one nail for each day that she was able to hold her temper. The days passed and the young girl was finally able to tell her mother that all the nails were gone. The mother then took her daughter by the hand and led her to the fence.

She said, "You have done well, my daughter, 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 stick a knife into a person and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say "I'm sorry," the wound is still there. A verbal wound can be as bad as a physical one.

Your friends are rare jewels indeed. They will make you smile and laugh, and encourage you to succeed or dissuade you from doing wrong. They lend an ear, they share words of praise and they always want to open their hearts. So, cherish your friends, and beware of moments when anger or the wrong choice of words may cut deeper than a knife.

Here's to a year where I really, truly think twice before I say something.

The kindest word in all the world is the unkind word, unsaid.