In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school career, while others can be main streamed into conventional schools.

At a Chush fund-raising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all that attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, “Where is the perfection in my son Jerry?

Everything God does is done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is God’s perfection?”

The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father’s anguish and stilled by the piercing query. “I believe,” the father answered, “that when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection that He seeks is in the way people react to this child.”

He then told the following story about his son Jerry:

One afternoon Jerry and his father walked past a park where some boys Jerry knew were playing baseball. Jerry asked, “Do you think they will let me play?” Jerry’s father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team. But Jerry’s father understood that if his son were chosen to play it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging.

Jerry’s father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if Jerry could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, “We are losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning”

Jerry’s father was ecstatic as Jerry smiled broadly. Jerry was told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Jerry’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Jerry’s team scored again and now with two outs and the bases loaded with the potential winning run on base, Jerry was scheduled to be up. Would the team actually let Jerry bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Jerry was given the bat. Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because Jerry didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it. However, as Jerry stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Jerry should at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came in and Jerry swung clumsily and missed. One of Jerry’s teammates came up to Jerry and together they held the bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Jerry.

As the pitch came in, Jerry and his teammate swung the bat and together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Jerry would have been out and that would have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman.

Everyone started yelling, “Jerry, run to first. Run to first!” Never in his life had Jerry run to first. He scampered down the baseline wide eyed and startled. By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman that would tag out Jerry, who was still running. But the right fielder understood what the pitcher’s intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman’s head. Everyone yelled, “Run to second, run to second.”

Jerry ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home.

As Jerry reached second base, the opposing short stop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, “Run to third.” As Jerry rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him screaming, “Jerry run.”

Jerry ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a “grand slam” and won the game for his team.

“That day,” said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, “those 18 boys reached their level of God’s perfection.”

There was a little boy who lived by the sea and the one thing he loved best was to carve out little boats from the pieces of driftwood that came from that sea. One day he found washed up on the shore a solid block of wood so perfect for sculpting that he told himself, “This is going to be the best boat I’ll make!” and so he proceeded to carve it, making sure that the details were perfect. After sculpting it, he sanded it and painted and lacquered it. He’d then take it wherever he went, always showing it off to his friends.

One day, he waded into the sea, put his little boat on the water, and watched it bob up and down on the water. He was very proud of his boat. But suddenly, a great wave descended on him and the little boat, and the wave engulfed the little boat until it drifted far, far away from the boy and disappeared. The boy ran to his father, crying, and his father tried to comfort him, to no avail.

The days went past, and became weeks, then months, but the boy still missed his little boat. One day, while he was accompanying his father to town, he wandered into a store, and there, among the other souvenirs and merchandise the store was selling, was his little boat! He then approached the owner, and asked him where he got the little boat over there by the shelf.

“Well now,” said the owner, “someone came into the store just last week and sold me that little boat, and since it’s a fine piece of craftmanship, I thought it was a good deal.”

“Sir, you see, I was the one who made that little boat.” the boy said. “I carved it, sanded it, painted and lacquered it. It’s the best little boat I ever made, and it got lost at sea and I’ve searched and searched for it and now I’m so happy to have found it. Can I have it back please?”

The owner looked at the boy, shook his head, and said, “I’m sorry son, but I paid for that little boat, and if you want to get it back, then you’d have to buy it .” The boy, who didn’t have any money on him at the time, said, “Okay. I’ll be back soon. Just keep it in reserve for me, okay?” Then he took one last look at his little boat, and ran to join his father.

As soon as they came home, he went to his room, took his piggy bank, broke it, and counted the money in it. Alas, he came up short! He sat there, tears rolling down his face, and his father came in the room. “Son, what’s the matter?,” his father asked. So the boy told him what happened, and his father said, “Son, why do love that little boat so much? There are so many pieces of wood that wash up daily from the sea. You could make another little boat, or even more if you wished. “

The boy replied, “Father, I loved that little boat so much. I couldn’t eat nor sleep, wondering what had happened to it all these months. And to have found it after all this time! Father, I don’t care how much it costs, I’m going to work hard so I can save up to buy back my little boat.”

His father lovingly looked at his son’s sad face, and said, “Okay, my son, I understand. Here, I’ll give you the money to buy back your boat,” and handed him the money. The boy hugged his father tightly, whispering, “Thank you, father.” and ran off towards the store, and bought back his little boat. He took it home, cradling it in his arms, and showed it off to his father, his mother, and the rest of his family. From then on, he never let it drift too far at sea, and always kept it at his side.

——————————-

Jesus is that boy, and you and I are that little boat. He molded us, polished us, cherished us so much, and when we drifted off where he couldn’t find us or reach us, he became so sad. And, after having found us again, he did not hesitate to pay whatever price in order to redeem us. With Jesus, he paid for us by giving up his life.

When you have someone who loves you that much, and you sometimes feel that nobody in this world really cares whether you come and go, take heart; somebody cares, and will never, ever let you out of his sight ever again.

- – - by Fr. Arlo Yap

Tags: boy, god, love, story

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table.

A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. “How much is an ice cream sundae?” he asked. “Fifty cents,” replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it. “Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired.

By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient. “Thirty-five cents,” she brusquely replied. The little boy again counted his coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left.

When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies.

You see, he couldn’t have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

Always Remember Those Who Serve You.

Tags: boy, god, story