Many years ago, there was an Emperor, who was so excessively fond of new clothes, that he spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to go either to the theater or the chase, except for the opportunities then afforded him for displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day; and as of any other king or emperor, one is accustomed to say, "he is sitting in council," it was always said of him, "The Emperor is sitting in his wardrobe."

Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers arrived every day at the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves weavers, made their appearance. They gave out that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, the clothes manufactured from which should have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held, or who was extraordinarily simple in character.

"These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!" thought the Emperor. "Had I such a suit, I might at once find out what men in my realms are unfit for their office, and also be able to distinguish the wise from the foolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately." And he caused large sums of money to be given to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work directly.

So the two pretended weavers set up two looms, and affected to work very busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks; and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms until late at night.

"I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth," said the Emperor to himself, after some little time had elapsed; he was, however, rather embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his office, would be unable to see the manufacture. To be sure, he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person; but yet, he would prefer sending somebody else, to bring him intelligence about the weavers, and their work, before he troubled himself in the affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful property the cloth was to possess; and all were anxious to learn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbors might prove to be.

 "I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers," said the Emperor at last, after some deliberation, "he will be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than be is."

So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working with all their might, at their empty looms. "What can be the meaning of this?" thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. "I cannot discover the least bit of thread on the looms." However, he did not express his thoughts aloud.

The impostors requested him very courteously to be so good as to come nearer their looms; and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colors were not very beautiful; at the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not discover anything on the looms, for a very good reason, viz: there was nothing there. "What!" thought he again. "Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself; and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see the stuff."

"Well, Sir Minister!" said one of the knaves, still pretending to work. "You do not say whether the stuff pleases you."

"Oh, it is excellent!" replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. "This pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell the Emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think them."

"We shall be much obliged to you," said the impostors, and then they named the different colors and described the pattern of the pretended stuff. The old minister listened attentively to their words, in order that he might repeat them to the Emperor; and then the knaves asked for more silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was given them into their knapsacks; and continued to work with as much apparent diligence as before at their empty looms.

The Emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on, and to ascertain whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with the minister; he surveyed the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the empty frames.

"Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the minister?" asked the impostors of the Emperor's second ambassador; at the same time making the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and colors which were not there.

"I certainly am not stupid!" thought the messenger. "It must be, that I am not fit for my good, profitable office! That is very odd; however, no one shall know anything about it." And accordingly he praised the stuff he could not see, and declared that he was delighted with both colors and patterns. "Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty," said he to his sovereign when he returned, "the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent."

The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the Emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense.

And now the Emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while it was still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court, among whom were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as they were aware of the Emperor's approach, went on working more diligently than ever; although they still did not pass a single thread through the looms.

"Is not the work absolutely magnificent?" said the two officers of the crown, already mentioned. "If your Majesty will only be pleased to look at it! What a splendid design! What glorious colors!" and at the same time they pointed to the empty frames; for they imagined that everyone else could see this exquisite piece of workmanship.

"How is this?" said the Emperor to himself. "I can see nothing! This is indeed a terrible affair! Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an Emperor? That would be the worst thing that could happen--Oh! The cloth is charming," said he, aloud. "It has my complete approbation." And he smiled most graciously, and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no account would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others; nevertheless, they all exclaimed, "Oh, how beautiful!" and advised his majesty to have some new clothes made from this splendid material, for the approaching procession. "Magnificent! Charming! Excellent!" resounded on all sides; and everyone was uncommonly gay. The Emperor shared in the general satisfaction; and presented the impostors with the riband of an order of knighthood, to be worn in their button-holes, and the title of "Gentlemen Weavers."

The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning, so that everyone might see how anxious they were to finish the Emperor's new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut the air with their scissors; and sewed with needles without any thread in them. "See!" cried they, at last. "The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"

And now the Emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers; and the rogues raised their arms, as if in the act of holding something up, saying, "Here are your Majesty's trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the mantle! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb; one might fancy one has nothing at all on, when dressed in it; that, however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth."

"Yes indeed!" said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this exquisite manufacture.

"If your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit on the new suit, in front of the looking glass."

The Emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him in his new suit; the Emperor turning round, from side to side, before the looking glass.

"How splendid his Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!" everyone cried out. "What a design! What colors! These are indeed royal robes!"

"The canopy which is to be borne over your Majesty, in the procession, is waiting," announced the chief master of the ceremonies.

"I am quite ready," answered the Emperor. "Do my new clothes fit well?" asked he, turning himself round again before the looking glass, in order that he might appear to be examining his handsome suit.

The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty's train felt about on the ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle; and pretended to be carrying something; for they would by no means betray anything like simplicity, or unfitness for their office.

So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital; and all the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, "Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!" in short, no one would allow that he could not see these much-admired clothes; because, in doing so, he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly, none of the Emperor's various suits, had ever made so great an impression, as these invisible ones.

"But the Emperor has nothing at all on!" said a little child.

"Listen to the voice of innocence!" exclaimed his father; and what the child had said was whispered from one to another.

"But he has nothing at all on!" at last cried out all the people. The Emperor was vexed, for he knew that the people were right; but he thought the procession must go on now! And the lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold.

Once upon a time as a merchant set off for market, he asked each of his three daughters what she would like as a present on his return. The first daughter wanted a brocade dress, the second a pearl necklace, but the third, whose name was Beauty, the youngest, prettiest and sweetest of them all, said to her father:

"All I'd like is a rose you've picked specially for me!"

When the merchant had finished his business, he set off for home. However, a sudden storm blew up, and his horse could hardly make headway in the howling gale. Cold and weary, the merchant had lost all hope of reaching an inn when he suddenly noticed a bright light shining in the middle of a wood. As he drew near, he saw that it was a castle, bathed in light.

"I hope I'll find shelter there for the night," he said to himself. When he reached the door, he saw it was open, but though he shouted, nobody came to greet him. Plucking up courage, he went inside, still calling out to attract attention. On a table in the main hall, a splendid dinner lay already served. The merchant lingered, still shouting for the owner of the castle. But no one came, and so the starving merchant sat down to a hearty meal.

Overcome by curiosity, he ventured upstairs, where the corridor led into magnificent rooms and halls. A fire crackled in the first room and a soft bed looked very inviting. It was now late, and the merchant could not resist. He lay down on the bed and fell fast asleep. When he woke next morning, an unknown hand had placed a mug of steaming coffee and some fruit by his bedside.

The merchant had breakfast and after tidying himself up, went downstairs to thank his generous host. But, as on the evening before, there was nobody in sight. Shaking his head in wonder at the strangeness of it all, he went towards the garden where he had left his horse, tethered to a tree. Suddenly, a large rose bush caught his eye.

Remembering his promise to Beauty, he bent down to pick a rose. Instantly, out of the rose garden, sprang a horrible beast, wearing splendid clothes. Two bloodshot eyes, gleaming angrily, glared at him and a deep, terrifying voice growled: "Ungrateful man! I gave you shelter, you ate at my table and slept in my own bed, but now all the thanks I get is the theft of my favorite flowers! I shall put you to death for this slight!" Trembling with fear, the merchant fell on his knees before the Beast.

"Forgive me! Forgive me! Don't kill me! I'll do anything you say! The rose wasn't for me, it was for my daughter Beauty. I promised to bring her back a rose from my journey!" The Beast dropped the paw it had clamped on the unhappy merchant.

"I shall spare your life, but on one condition, that you bring me your daughter!" The terror-stricken merchant, faced with certain death if he did not obey, promised that he would do so. When he reached home in tears, his three daughters ran to greet him. After he had told them of his dreadful adventure, Beauty put his mind at rest immediately.

"Dear father, I'd do anything for you! Don't worry, you'll be able to keep your promise and save your life! Take me to the castle. I'll stay there in your place!" The merchant hugged his daughter.

"I never did doubt your love for me. For the moment I can only thank you for saving my life." So Beauty was led to the castle. The Beast, however, had quite an unexpected greeting for the girl. Instead of menacing doom as it had done with her father, it was surprisingly pleasant.

In the beginning, Beauty was frightened of the Beast, and shuddered at the sight of it. Then she found that, in spite of the monster's awful head, her horror of it was gradually fading as time went by. She had one of the finest rooms in the Castle, and sat for hours, embroidering in front of the fire. And the Beast would sit, for hours on end, only a short distance away, silently gazing at her. Then it started to say a few kind words, till in the end, Beauty was amazed to discover that she was actually enjoying its conversation. The days passed, and Beauty and the Beast became good friends. Then one day, the Beast asked the girl to be his wife.

Taken by surprise, Beauty did not know what to say. Marry such an ugly monster? She would rather die! But she did not want to  hurt the feelings of one who, after all, had been kind to her. And she remembered too that she owed it her own life as well as her father's.

"I really can't say yes," she began shakily. "I'd so much like to..." The Beast interrupted her with an abrupt gesture.

"I quite understand! And I'm not offended by your refusal!" Life went on as usual, and nothing further was said. One day, the Beast presented Beauty with a magnificent magic mirror. When Beauty peeped into it, she could see her family, far away.

"You won't feel so lonely now," were the words that accompanied the gift. Beauty stared for hours at her distant family. Then she began to feel worried. One day, the Beast found her weeping beside the magic mirror.

"What's wrong?" he asked, kindly as always.
           
"My father is gravely ill and close to dying! Oh, how I wish I could see him again, before it's too late!" But the Beast only shook its head.

"No! You will never leave this castle!" And off it stalked in a rage. However, a little later, it returned and spoke solemnly to the girl.

"If you swear that you will return here in seven days time, I'll let you go and visit your father!" Beauty threw herself at the Beast's feet in delight.

"I swear! I swear I will! How kind you are! You've made a loving daughter so happy!" In reality, the merchant had fallen ill from a broken heart at knowing his daughter was being kept prisoner. When he embraced her again, he was soon on the road to recovery. Beauty stayed beside him for hours on end, describing her life at the Castle, and explaining that the Beast was really good and kind. The days flashed past, and at last the merchant was able to leave his bed. He was completely well again. Beauty was happy at last. However, she had failed to notice that seven days had gone by.

Then one night she woke from a terrible nightmare. She had dreamt that the Beast was dying and calling for her, twisting in agony.

"Come back! Come back to me!" it was pleading. The solemn  promise she had made drove her to leave home immediately.

"Hurry! Hurry, good horse!" she said, whipping her steed onwards towards the castle, afraid that she might arrive too late. She rushed up the stairs, calling, but there was no reply. Her heart in her mouth, Beauty ran into the garden and there crouched the Beast, its eyes shut, as though dead. Beauty threw herself at it and hugged it tightly.

"Don't die! Don't die! I'll marry you . . ." At these words, a miracle took place. The Beast's ugly snout turned magically into the face of a handsome young man.

"How I've been longing for this moment!" he said. "I was suffering in silence, and couldn't tell my frightful secret. An evil witch turned me into a monster and only the love of a maiden willing to accept me as I was, could transform me back into my real self. My dearest! I'll be so happy if you'll marry me."

The wedding took place shortly after and, from that day on, the young Prince would have nothing but roses in his gardens. And that's why, to this day, the castle is known as the Castle of the Rose.

It was autumn again. Sucking in the warm morning breeze, Mary smiled as she stretched her arms wide, as though embracing the beauty of nature. Jumping up and down in glee, she swirled around in the garden, with her long silky jet-black hair dancing behind her. By anyone’s standards, she was beautiful. Her cherry lips often gave way to smiles and laughter and her eyes a beautiful shade of blue.

She let the wind sting her cheeks as she ran around the garden, shrieking in joy, when she skidded on the fallen leaves only to find herself resting on the strong grasp of a hand. Opening her eyes, her heart momentarily stopped beating as she came face to face with a freckled-faced man. He grinned, revealing a row of yellowish teeth, and then opened his mouth, sending out a weave of nasty stench which smelled like a thousand rotten apples. Mary widened her eyes in horror, shocking the man as he lost grip of her and she fell on the floor.

Moaning miserably, she got up slowly from her supine position and grunted, flinging expletives at the bewildered man. But he only looked down without a word. “Are you mute! Can’t you even say sorry!” Mary cried out in frustration and stomped off. The man sighed and shook his head, picking up his broom to continue sweeping the fallen leaves.

The next day, Mary sat under a tree in the same garden, burying her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Suddenly, she felt her nose twitch as an unbearable stench gushed into her nostrils and she looked up, only to see a white handkerchief.

“You again” she folded her arms, obviously annoyed. The man lifted his right hand to the side of his forehead, an indication that he was sorry. He then pointed to the handkerchief, motioning her to wipe her tears. “A-Are you really… mute?” Mary stammered, afraid to know the answer. Instead, the man smiled, and distorted his face using his hands so he looked hilariously frightful. Mary laughed, and he whipped out a piece of paper from his back pocket and started scribbling. Like this, a few hours passed.

“If only my boyfriend was as understanding as you, John…” She mused sadly and continued, “But it doesn’t matter anymore.” And they sat in silence in the middle of the garden where brown leaves scattered, and where a beautiful friendship was already blossoming.

Day after day, Mary would look for John in the garden, where he would be sweeping the leaves. They enjoyed each other’s company immensely, even if it meant communicating through scraps of paper. Many a time, Mary did the talking and John, the listening, always ready with a handkerchief to chase away her sorrows. Whenever Mary was feeling down, John would bring her to the fields in the outskirts of the city where sunflowers bloomed its prettiest and hatred never existed. He would urge her to tell her unhappiness to a tree and then carve a tiny happy face at that portion of the trunk. Months soon passed, and this humble tree was soon filled with many happy faces. This was their paradise.

Unfortunately, their love was soon put to the test. It was past midnight. Mary was returning home from work and had taken the short cut through a deserted alley when two big burly men appeared before her. They had similar nasty stench drifting out of their mouths and snorted furiously like demented bulls.

“Leave John alone! He’s better off without women! He belongs with us to the underworld!” One of them boomed. Mary, frightened, shrieked and closed her eyes, muttering a short prayer as she anticipated her life to end at this juncture. Seconds passed, and she gingerly opened her eyes, to see an outline of a familiar figure wrestling with the two burly men. John was punched and kicked about like a rag doll. Blood trickling from his nose and forehead, he was sprawled on the ground, defenseless. “That’s what you get for betraying us,” they smirked in satisfaction and swaggered away.

“John!” Mary cried out, lifting him up and hugging him tightly. Examining his face carefully, she realised that like those burly men, he was filthy and smelly, but unlike them, he had the kindest and most beautiful eyes ever. She had come to love this man for who he was. It was a love that needed no words. Garnering the last ounce of strength in him, he took out the white handkerchief he always carried and held it out to her. She received the handkerchief with trembling hands. Inhaling sharply, she let Niagara Falls come.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me no matter what happens” She whispered. With quivering hands, he took out a scrap of paper and pen. “I’ll always be with you” He assured her. “I swear”. Smiling, she held out her last finger in which he hooked against his and they hugged.

Although belonging to different worlds, one a law graduate from Harvard and the other from the underworld, they never mentioned about their difference in status. Instead, their love only grew stronger after that fateful incident.

One day, Mary was on her way to the garden when a gush of fluid was flung at her face. Instantly, she felt a burning sensation in her eyes and the flash of light was soaked up by the spreading dark patches before her eyes. Her ear splitting screaming reverberated to John’s ears as he sallied forward towards the sound, only to see Mary already unconscious on the ground, and he knew it was the work of the two burly men.

Mary was rushed to the hospital forthwith but it was too late. She was to lose her sight. Her family was devastated and wailed in pain and anguish. Guilt-ridden to have caused misfortune to befall Mary and her family, John made up his mind. He knew what he had to do.

Packing the essentials, he decided to leave and quitted his job as a sweeper in the garden. Looking at the blissful pictures of Mary and himself, he sighed and threw them away.

“Mary! Can you see me?” Aunts jostled towards the weary girl and waved before her. The image she saw was a blur and she felt groggy. However, it was a great blessing that Mary had regained her sight. Looking into the mirror, she was startled to find that her eyes looked somewhat different. They were the same shade of blue, but now they exuberated great warmth and compassion.

Unfortunately, Mary soon realized that John had left her and was devastated. She bawled her heart out and pinned for him day and night. Thinking back on the promise he made to her, she hated him all the more.

One day, she decided to visit their place of paradise to relieve their happy days together. She walked to the tree where she used to pour out her unhappiness and leaned close to the trunk and touched its rough surface filled with happy faces. She wept uncontrollably as she ran her fingers down the trunk. Unexpectedly, she saw the words ‘I’ll be with you’ engraved on the foot of the tree trunk. Glimmers of hope began to light the darkness as she looked earnestly around, but what she saw left her dumbfounded.

On the bench sat a man with a pair of sunglasses and a walking stick. Under the scorching sun, he was sweating profusely and fished out a white handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe the perspiration. Coincidentally, a photo fell out from the pocket as well. With manifold feelings, Mary picked up the photo and looked at herself in the picture and was shocked. The man groped his back pocket for the photo and became flustered when it was no longer there. Slowly, Mary walked over and placed the photo in the man’s hands. It was only then that she tasted the warm salty wetness of her own tears and realized how hard she was crying.

The man bowed in gratitude and flashed his yellowish teeth which glistened in the morning sun.

“I’ll always be with you… “

Looking at the man who loved her so deeply, she smiled. Touching her eyes which were once his, tears streaked down her cheeks. His eyes brimming with her tears.

On a cold winter day Akbar and Birbal took a walk along the lake. A thought came to Birbal that a man would do anything for money. He expressed his feelings to Akbar. Akbar then put his finger into the lake and immediately removed it because he shivered with cold.

Akbar said "I don’t think a man would spend an entire night in the cold water of this lake for money."

Birbal replied "I am sure I can find such a person."

Akbar then challenged Birbal into finding such a person and said that he would reward the person with a thousand gold coins.

Birbal searched far and wide until he found a poor man who was desperate enough to accept the challenge. The poor man entered the lake and Akbar had guards posted near him to make sure that he really did as promised.

The next morning the guards took the poor man to Akbar. Akbar asked the poor man if he had indeed spent the night in the lake. The poor man replied that he had. Akbar then asked the poor man how he managed to spend the night in the lake. The poor man replied that there was a street lamp near by and he kept his attention affixed on the lamp and away from the cold. Akbar then said that there would be no reward as the poor man had survived the night in the lake by the warmth of the street lamp. The poor man went to Birbal for help.

The next day, Birbal did not go to court. The king wondering where he was sent a messenger to his home. The messenger came back saying that Birbal would come once his Khichri(Rice) was cooked. The king waited hours but Birbal did not come. Finally the king decided to go to Birbal’s house and see what he was up to.

He found Birbal sitting on the floor near some burning twigs and a bowl filled with Khichri(Rice) hanging five feet above the fire. The king and his attendants couldn’t help but laugh.

Akbar then said to Birbal "How can the Khichri(Rice) be cooked if it so far away from the fire?"

Birbal answered "The same way the poor man received heat from a street lamp that was more than a furlong away."

The King understood his mistake and gave the poor man his reward.

This parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer’s well. The farmer heard the mule praying or whatever mules do when they fall into wells. After carefully assessing the situation, the farmer sympathized with the mule, but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth the trouble of saving. Instead, he called his neighbors together, told them what had happened, and enlisted them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery.

Initially the old mule was hysterical! But as the farmer and his neighbors continued shoveling and the dirt hit his back, a thought struck him. It suddenly dawned on him that every time a shovel load of dirt landed on his back, HE WOULD SHAKE IT OFF AND STEP UP!

This he did, blow after blow. “Shake it off and step up…shake it off and step up…shake it off and step up!” He repeated to encourage himself. No matter how painful the blows, or how distressing the situation seemed, the old mule fought panic and just kept right on SHAKING IT OFF AND STEPPING UP!
 

It wasn’t long before the old mule, battered and exhausted, stepped triumphantly over the wall of that well! What seemed like it would bury him actually helped him . . . all because of the manner in which he handled his adversity.

THAT’S LIFE! If we face our problems and respond to them positively, and refuse to give in to panic, bitterness, or self-pity.

A cosmic god had a horse. The horse was beautiful and also it had many good qualities. But it wanted to be more perfect in every way. It especially wanted to become beauty unparalleled.

One day the horse said to the cosmic god, "0 Lord, you have given me beauty. You have given me other good qualities. I am so grateful to you. But how I wish you could make me more beautiful. I would be extremely, extremely grateful if you could make me more beautiful."

The cosmic god said, "I am more than ready to make you more beautiful. Tell me in what way you want to be changed."

The horse said, "It seems to me that I am not well proportioned. My neck is too short. If you can make my neck a little longer, my upper body will be infinitely more beautiful. And if you can make my legs much longer and thinner, then I will look infinitely more beautiful in my lower body."

The cosmic god said, "Amen!" Then immediately he made a camel appear in place of the horse. The horse was so disheartened that it started to cry, "0 Lord, I wanted to become more beautiful. In what way is this kind of outer form more beautiful?"

The cosmic god said, "This is exactly what you asked for. You have become a camel."

The horse cried, "Oh no, I do not want to become a camel I wish to remain a horse. As a horse, everybody appreciated my good qualities. Nobody will appreciate me as a camel."

The cosmic god said, "Never try to achieve or receive more than I have given you. If you want to lead a desire-life, then at every moment you will want more and more. But you have no idea what the outcome will be. If you cry for a longer neck and legs, this is what will happen. Each thing in my creation has its own good qualities. The camel is not as beautiful as you are, but it carries heavy loads and has a tremendous sense of responsibility."

He could not believe that this was how it was going to end. After everything that he had been thorough in his life it had come down to this. As big and as strong as he once was. Flat on his back in a hospital bed with a heart that was giving up.

He thought about everything he put himself thorough. The broken bones knocked out teeth six years in the military. All the booze, cigarettes and drugs some legal most them not. Here he was paying for the life that he led. All the hours spent on that big two wheeler. Just having to see what was over the next horizon. The wander lust in his heart. Who could have put up with that?

He thought about the girl who spent so many miles riding behind him. How he loved that woman now. Twenty-five years of good times and bad. She never left sometimes he didn’t understand why she stayed. He was grateful that she did. She was his world. Some days his temper was not to be believed. He could be moody for weeks at a time. By the end of the winter he was wearing a groove in the carpet waiting on the weather so he could get back outside. How that woman could stand that just amazed him. Then there was their daughter.

What a spitfire she is. Whoever she marries is going to have their hands full. He thought about all the overtime he put in and how much of her life he missed. She is almost finished with college. How wild is that his daughter in law school. Is the world ready for that? He wonders if she knows how proud of her he is. Does she know how much he loves her? Not being there for her is what hurts the most about this.

He was not going to think like that. He’ll get a transplant stop smoking and drinking and life will go on as it has in the past. A cigarette sounds good about now he thought. The rare blood type that he has that kept in beer money half of his life. Is now going to be the reason that he ends dying on his back in a hospital bed. What a way to go out. Where is the blaze of glory he always figured would accompany his departure from this world. No bells or whistle just a slow fading away. That sucks.

He woke up to hearing voices in his room. He looked around and saw that they had brought in another patient and put in his room. No dying alone now even if he wanted too. He saw woman pass by the end of the other bed. She was huge. She must have been at eight months pregnant. He thought how sad is that to have a pregnant wife and be in the IC unit of the hospital. He could them talking. The man voice was weak and he was trying to be encouraging to the woman. She told the man that he needed to get some rest and that she would there when he woke up. He could hear the steady breathing of his roommate as realized that he must have fallen on the woman’s command. He could hear the woman mumbling. He thought prayers at this point lady are not going to help. Then voice got a little louder and he could hear her.

She was praying. Just like he thought. But what she was praying for sent chills down his spine. "Oh God just a couple of more months. Please let him live long enough to hold our child in his arms at least once before you call him home. Please just a few more days. I know he is dying but let him see his child first."

As he laid he thought how hard her life was going to be. He thought about the unborn child growing up without their father. Who would his daughter be if he had died that early in her life. What would happen to his wife. With his quirks she loved him with all of her being. How would have she survived.

He must have drifted off again.    
                        
With the lighting in this place you can never figure out what time it is. His roommates were talking again about how he would never get the transplant that he needed in time the list was so long and he was so sick.

The nurse came in and told him we have to get you ready they had found him a heart. It was on its way and they needed to get him prep for the surgery. He looked at her ask her to get his wife and his daughter for him. She said there was no time. He looked at her and told her to make the time.

He watched his wife walk in. She was so beautiful. Their daughter behind her, her mother’s looks and intelligence and her father pit bull mentality and he smiled. One on either side of his bed holding his hands. Was he strong enough for this he didn’t know? He done a lot bad things in his life he cut corners and cheated when he could get a way with. But this was different this was where the rubber meets the road. He knew what had to be done. He looked at his wife and said, "I love more now than I ever did thank you for the life we have had. I will miss you."

To his daughter he said, "Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I could have a child like you. No father anywhere at anytime could be a more proud parent than I am. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I will love until the last star is a memory."

The doctor came rushing into the room and started talking about how they had to get him ready. He looked at wife and his daughter then he turned to the doctor and told him "Doc we ain’t doing this. You give that heart to the person on the list. I have had a good life. Let someone else get a chance at theirs."

He looked at the other woman in the room as said. "How could God not answer your prayer"

He looked at wife and said "Get me out of here while I still have the strength to leave and before I get scared."

The doctor left the nurse brought in a wheel chair at he left that hospital knowing he had done the right thing. He didn’t particularly believe God but some else needed that heart. He died that at his home with wife and daughter with him. A cigarette in his mouth and a beer in his hand. With no regrets.

Back at the hospital days kept turning. His roommate was recovering from getting his heart transplant. And it looked like he would get to see his unborn child grow up.

The nurse took a different position at the hospital she could not work with dying people anymore. So she went to OB/GYN department help bring lives into the world. As things would happen the woman whose husband had needed the transplant months before was there to have her baby. The nurse was not involved in the delivery but stayed to see the child. As she was looking at baby thorough the window the husband showed up to see the baby. He noticed the tears that were running down the nurse’s face and asked her way was she crying.

The nurse responded pointing at his child she said "That baby has daddy because of the unselfishness of one man. And the baby’s mother’s prayer."

The man asked to explain why she would say this about this child. She told him of a night when she worked in the Intensive care unit of hospital. And that a man gave up his heart transplant to the next person on the list. The next person on the list at the hospital with the same blood type was the baby’s father.

Life isn't about keeping score.
It's not about how many friends you have
Or how accepted you are.
Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone.

It isn't about who you have kissed,
It isn't about who your family is or
how much money they have
Or what kind of car you drive.

Or where you are sent to school.
It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are.
Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on,
Or what kind of music you listen to.

It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown,
Or if your skin is too light or too dark.
Not about what grades you get how smart you are, how smart
everybody else thinks you are, or how smart
standardized tests say you are.

Life just isn't.

Life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposely.
It's about keeping or betraying trust.
It's about friendship, used as a sanctity or as a weapon.

It's about what you say and mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening.
It's about starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip.
It's about what judgments you pass and why.
And who your judgments are spread to.

It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention.
It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge.
It's about carrying inner hate and love,
letting it grow and spreading it.

But most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison
other people's hearts in such a way that could have
never occurred alone.

Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those
choices are what life's all about.

Today let this rainbow remind your friends and family
of what life is really all about.