Handwriting on the Wall
By: Author Unknown

A weary mother returned from the store,
Lugging groceries through the kitchen door.
Awaiting her arrival was her 8 year old son,
Anxious to relate what his younger brother had done.

“While I was out playing and Dad was on a call,
T.J. took his crayons and wrote on the wall!
It’s on the new paper you just hung in the den.
I told him you’d be mad at having to do it again.”

She let out a moan and furrowed her brow,
“Where is your little brother right now?”
She emptied her arms and with a purposeful stride,
She marched to his closet where he had gone to hide.

She called his full name as she entered his room.
He trembled with fear–he knew that meant doom!
For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved
About the expensive wallpaper and how she had saved.

Lamenting all the work it would take to repair,
She condemned his actions and total lack of care.
The more she scolded, the madder she got,
Then stomped from his room, totally distraught!

She headed for the den to confirm her fears.
When she saw the wall, her eyes flooded with tears.
The message she read pierced her soul with a dart.
It said, “I love Mommy,” surrounded by a heart.

Well, the wallpaper remained, just as she found it,
With an empty picture frame hung to surround it.
A reminder to her, and indeed to all,
Take time to read the handwriting on the wall

TRUE WEALTH IS WHAT IS LEFT AFTER ALL MATERIAL THINGS ARE GONE

Giving When It Counts
By: Author Unknown

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital,
I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from
a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery
appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year-old
brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and
had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.
The doctor explained the situation to her little brother,
and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his
blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment
before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes, I’ll do it if
it will save her.”

As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his
sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning
to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice,
“Will I start to die right away?”.

Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he
thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his
blood in order to save her.

Beautiful Pearls
By: Author Unknown

Jenny was a bright-eyed, pretty five-year-old girl.

One day when she and her mother were checking out at the
grocery store, Jenny saw a plastic pearl necklace priced at
$2.50. How she wanted that necklace, and when she asked her
mother if she would buy it for her, her mother said, “Well,
it is a pretty necklace, but it costs an awful lot of money.
I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you the necklace, and when we
get home we can make up a list of chores that you can do to
pay for the necklace. And don’t forget that for your
birthday Grandma just might give you a whole dollar bill,
too. Okay?” Jenny agreed, and her mother bought the pearl
necklace for her.

Jenny worked on her chores very hard every day, and sure
enough, her grandma gave her a brand new dollar bill for her
birthday. Soon Jenny had paid off the pearls. How Jenny
loved those pearls. She wore them everywhere, to
kindergarten, bed and when she went out with her mother to
run errands. The only time she didn’t wear them was in the
shower. Her mother had told her that they would turn her
neck green!

Now Jenny had a very loving daddy. When Jenny went to bed,
he would get up from his favorite chair every night and read
Jenny her favorite story.

One night when he finished the story, he said, “Jenny, do
you love me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you,” the little girl said.

“Well, then, give me your pearls.”

“Oh! Daddy, not my pearls!” Jenny said. “But you can have
Rosy, my favorite doll. Remember her? You gave her to me
last year for my birthday. And you can have her tea party
outfit, too. Okay?”

“Oh no, darling, that’s okay.” Her father brushed her cheek
with a kiss. “Good night, little one.”

A week later, her father once again asked Jenny after her
story, “Do you love me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.”

“Well, then, give me your pearls.”

“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls! But you can have Ribbons, my toy
horse. Do you remember her? She’s my favorite. Her hair is
so soft, and you can play with it and braid it and
everything. You can have Ribbons if you want her, Daddy, the
little girl said to her father.

“No, that’s okay,” her father said and brushed her cheek
again with a kiss. God bless you, little one. Sweet dreams.”

Several days later, when Jenny’s father came in to read her
a story, Jenny was sitting on her bed and her lip was
trembling. ” Here, Daddy,” she said, and held out her hand.
She opened it and her beloved pearl necklace was inside. She
let it slip into her father’s hand.

With one hand her father held the plastic pearls and the
other he pulled out of his pocket a blue velvet box. Inside
of the box were real, genuine, beautiful pearls. He had had
them all along. He was waiting for Jenny to give up the
cheap stuff so he could give her the real thing.

So it is in life. It isn’t necessarily true that everything
expensive is good, but sometimes you need to trust in
yourself, to know who to trust and to know when to give
something up as something better is coming along.

Mother’s Day Rose
By: Author Unknown

A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be
wired to his mother who lived two hundred miles away. As he
got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the
curb sobbing.

He asked her what was wrong and she replied, “I wanted to
buy a red rose for my mother. But I only have seventy-five
cents, and a rose costs two dollars.”

The man smiled and said, “Come on in with me. I’ll buy you a
rose.”

He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own
mother’s flowers.

As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home.

She said, “Yes, please! You can take me to my mother.”

She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on
a freshly dug grave.

The man returned to the flower shop, canceled the wire
order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles
to his mother’s house.