Inspirational Story

He almost didn’t see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so....was he going to hurt her?

He did not look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you. He said, "I’m here to help you ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it is warm? By the way, my name is Bryan."

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him.

She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She could not thank him enough for coming to her aid. Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, "... and think of me."

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out-of-work actor-it didn’t ring much.

Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.

After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get change for her hundred-dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on the napkin under which was four $100 bills. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: "You don’t owe me anything, I have been there too.

Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you."

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day.

That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard.

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything’s going to be all right; I love you, Bryan." There is an old saying "What goes around comes around." Let this light shine.

Thoughts For Today:

Maybe God wanted us to meet the wrong people
before meeting the right ones,
so that when we finally meet them
we will know how to be grateful for the gift.

There are moments in life
when you miss someone so
much that you just want
to pick them from your dreams
and hug them for real.

A Story in form of letter

Dear Patrick,

I was then an only child who had everything I could ever want. But even a pretty, spoiled and rich kid could get lonely once in a while so when Mom told me that she was pregnant, I was ecstatic. I imagined how wonderful you would be and how we’d always be together and how much you would look like me.

So, when you were born, I looked at your tiny hands and I showed you proudly to my friends. They would touch you and sometimes pinch you, but you never reacted. When you were five months old, some things began to bother Mom. You seemed so unmoving and numb, and your cry sounded odd – almost like a kitten’s.

So, we brought you to many doctors. The thirteenth doctor who looked at you quietly said you have the "cry du chat" (kree-do-sha) syndrome (cry of the cat in French). When I asked what that meant, he looked at me with pity and softly said, "Your brother will never walk or talk."

The doctor told us that it is a condition that afflicts one in 50,000 babies, rendering victims retarded. Mom was shocked and I was furious. I thought it was unfair.

When we went home, Mom took you in her arms and cried. I looked at you and realized that word will get around that you’re not normal. So to hold on to my popularity, I did the unthinkable…I disowned you. Mom and Dad didn’t know but I steeled myself not to love you as you grew.

Mom and Dad showered you with love and attention and that made me bitter. And as the years passed, that bitterness turned to anger, and then hate.

Mom never gave up on you. She knew she had to do it for your sake. Every time she put your toys down, you would roll instead of crawl. I watched her heart break every time she took away your toys and strapped your tummy with foam so you couldn’t roll. You’d struggle and you’d cry in that pitiful way, the cry of the kitten. But she still didn’t give up.

And then one day, you defied what all your doctors said – you crawled. When Mom saw this, she knew that you would eventually walk. So when you were still crawling at age four, she’d put you on the grass with only your diapers on knowing that you hate the feel of the grass on your skin. Then she’d leave you there.

I would sometimes watch from the window and smile at your discomfort. You would crawl to the sidewalk and Mom would put you back. Again and again, Mom repeated this on the lawn. Until one day, Mom saw you pull yourself up and toddle off the grass as fast as your little legs could carry you.

Laughing and crying, she shouted for Dad and I to come. Dad hugged you crying openly. I watched from my bedroom window this heartbreaking scene. Over the years, Mom taught you to speak, read and write. From then on, I would sometimes see you walk outside, smell the flowers, marvel at the birds, or just smile at no one.

I began to see the beauty of the world around me, the simplicity of life and the wonders to this world through your eyes. It was then that I realized that you were my brother and no matter how much I tried to hate you, I couldn’t because I had grown to love you.

During the next few days, we again became acquainted with each other. I would buy you toys and give all the love that a sister could ever give to her brother. And you would reward me by smiling and hugging me. But I guess, you were never really meant for us.

On your tenth birthday, you fell severe headaches. The doctor’s diagnosis – leukemia. Mom gasped and Dad held her, while I fought hard to keep my tears from falling. At that moment, I loved you all the more. I couldn’t even bear to leave your side.

Then the doctors told us that your only hope was to have bone marrow transplant. You became the subject of a nationwide donor search. When at last we found the right match, you were too sick, and the doctor reluctantly ruled out the operations.

Since then, you underwent chemotherapy and radiation. Even at the end, you continued to pursue life. Just a month before you died, you made me draw up a list of things you wanted to do when you got out of the hospital.

Two days after the list was completed, you asked the doctors to send you home. There, we ate ice-cream and cake, run across the grass, flew kites, went fishing, took pictures of one another and let the balloons fly.

I remember the last conversation we had. You said that if you die, and if I need help, I could send you a note to heaven by tying the note on the string of a balloon and letting it fly. When you said this, I started crying. Then you hugged me. Then again, for the last time, you got sick.

That last night, you asked for water, a back rub, a cuddle. Finally, you went into seizure with tears streaming down your face. Later, at the hospital, you struggled to talk but the words wouldn’t come. I know what you wanted to say.

"I hear you." I whispered. And for the last time, I said, "I’ll always love you and I will never forget you. Don’t be afraid. You’ll soon be with God in heaven." Then, with my tears flowing freely, I watched the bravest boy I had ever known finally stop breathing.

Dad, Mom and I cried until felt as if there were no more tears left. Patrick was finally gone, leaving us behind. From then on, you were my source of inspiration. You showed me how to love life and live life to the fullest. With you simplicity and honesty, you showed me a world full of love and caring. And you made me realize that the most important thing in this life is to continue loving without asking why or how and without setting any limit.

With this letter and this balloon, I fly my love to you. Thank you my little brother for all these.

Sarah