Weekly Readings

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	Sep 3, 2010
	Slow Down
	by Author Unknown
	A young and very successful executive named Josh was traveling down a neighborhood street. He was going a bit too fast in his sleek, black, Jaguar, which was only two months old. As his car passed a brick sailed out and smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes, ground the gears into reverse spun the Jaguar back to the spot from where the brick had been thrown. Josh jumped out of the car, grabbed the kid and pushed him up against a parked car. He shouted at the kid, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing?!" Building up a head of steam, he went on. "That's my new Jag, that brick you threw is gonna cost you a lot of money. Why did you throw it?" "Please, mister, please...I'm sorry! I didn't know what else to do!" pleaded the youngster. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop!" Tears were dripping down the boy's chin as he pointed around the parked car. "It's my brother, mister," he said. "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up." Sobbing, the boy asked the executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me." Moved beyond words, the young executive tried desperately to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. Straining, he lifted the young man back into the wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes and cuts, checking to see that everything was going to be OK. He then watched the younger brother push him down the sidewalk toward their home. It was a long walk back to the sleek, black, shining, Jaguar -- a long and slow walk. Josh never fixed the side door of his Jaguar. He kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at him to get his attention.
	Aug 26, 2010
	The Old Fisherman
	Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients. One evening there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. I stared at the stooped, shrivelled body. But the appalling thing was his face -- lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning." He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success. "I guess it's my face...I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments..." For a moment I hesitated, and then I told him we would find him a bed. It didn't take long to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with gratitude. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He was thankful he was given the strength to keep going. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and he was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but before he left, as if asking a great favour, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." I told him he was welcome. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us. Knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. I often thought of a comment our neighbour made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But if only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude. (by Mary Bartels Bray) How many of us judge people and dismiss them based on their looks. When we do we only short change ourselves, we miss out on meeting an amazing soul who could teach us something and inspire us. Take time to notice if you find yourself doing this.
	Jul 29, 2010
	Two Choices
	by Francie Baltazar-Schwartz
	Jul 23, 2010
	A Simple Gesture
	By John W. Schlatter (true story)