The Wolf in the Gaza Crisis

Introduction

by HRM Deborah

As to the fabrication, of there being a Gaza crisis and the overwhelming amount of lie’s subjected to the media in every aspect of the situation that there is a crisis when there is not; brings to mind of the fable of the boy who lied about a wolf, as retold below.

For anyone to believe a lie not only walk’s in darkness from the truth, they stumble along the path of life, until in this case when they actually need help; the wolf get’s them instead, for they are not believed.

So case in point, one should always tell the truth in all thing’s, for a liar while they never prosper’ also uses more energy to balloon the lie; then it took to tell the truth. In telling the truth, one not only lives longer due to the lack of pressure a lie put’s upon a person; but they will live happier and much more prosperous lives and no one I am sure would ever care to meet the wolf, that will surely eventually come.

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

The Boy Who Cried Wolf, illustrated by Milo Winter in a 1919 Aesop anthology.

Is a fable attributed to Aesop who was of Greek origin, but some also considered it a old Russian fable.

There once was a shepherd boy who was bored as he sat on the hillside watching the village sheep. To amuse himself he took a great breath and sang out, "Wolf! Wolf! The Wolf is chasing the sheep!"

The villagers came running up the hill to help the boy drive the wolf away. But when they arrived at the top of the hill, they found no wolf. The boy laughed at the sight of their angry faces.

"Don't cry 'wolf', shepherd boy," said the villagers, "when there's no wolf!" They went grumbling back down the hill.

Later, the boy sang out again, "Wolf! Wolf! The wolf is chasing the sheep!" To his naughty delight, he watched the villagers run up the hill to help him drive the wolf away.

When the villagers saw no wolf they sternly said, "Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Don't cry 'wolf' when there is NO wolf!"

But the boy just grinned and watched them go grumbling down the hill once more.

Later, he saw a REAL wolf prowling about his flock. Alarmed, he leaped to his feet and sang out as loudly as he could, "Wolf! Wolf!"

But the villagers thought he was trying to fool them again, and so they didn't come.

At sunset, everyone wondered why the shepherd boy hadn't returned to the village with their sheep. They went up the hill to find the boy. They found him weeping.

"There really was a wolf here! The flock has scattered! I cried out, "Wolf!" Why didn't you come?"

An old man tried to comfort the boy as they walked back to the village.

"We'll help you look for the lost sheep in the morning," he said, putting his arm around the youth, "Nobody believes a liar...even when he is telling the truth!"


The moral is stated at the end of the fable as:
Even when liars tell the truth, they are never believed. The liar will lie once, twice, and then perish when he tells the truth.

The Beggars Empty Plate

By HRM Deborah

I happened upon a news headline today, that had to do with a building boom; instead of caring for the people's real needs and it reminded me of the following:

It was the coldest time of winter and there was a beggar standing on a corner with no home, no food or a coat to keep them warm.

He would ask passers-by to please help him and they kept ignoring his blight or once and a while hand him a small morsel, because it was thought maybe he would go away and they did not have to look at him anymore.

Until one day, as usual when his desperation was getting the best of him, he was asking for just food, even though the blistering cold was worse that particular day.

When a man that had kept seeing him out his business window, came up with an idea; so he decided to walk out of his door, across the street to the beggar standing on the corner, just to hand the beggar an empty plate.

The beggar was curious of what to do with this empty plate, for it did not solve his situation, but was more intent to mask the problem.

A Pair of New Shoes

Sorry to say, I did not write this story, it was sent to me a little time ago; but nevertheless, it was felt to be worth sharing for it gives a good lesson.-HRM Deborah

A pair of young feet in a pair of very old shoes walked along an awfully muddy road. The nine-year-old girl prayed with every squelch of the mud, “Isn’t it time for a new pair of shoes yet? Oh please, a brand-new pair for once!”

She stopped in front of a vast puddle. “What do you think? Is it possible?” she asked her reflection in the murky water. “No way,” snapped back the image. “With a bunch of brothers and sisters and cousins donating their hand-me-downs every year you stand no chance.”

“Oh well! Hope springs eternal,” muttered the little girl and avenged the answer by stomping on the cruel “other.”

She hurried up to the school just around the corner. There was no one in sight. She was late again. Teachers’ voices blended from the broken windows. She entered her classroom. The teacher let her take her seat with a reproachful look that set her cheeks on fire instantly. The little girl wondered how her cheeks could burn while her feet were ice cold.

She scanned the class discreetly after she had taken her seat. All she saw was a bunch of freezing kids, a door that would not close, and windows that, like her shoes, welcomed everything in. She tried to think of something funny to lift up her spirit. Alas! Even jokes were scarce in her life. Patience was the only thing she had in abundance to help her survive till the end of the school day.

The little girl took the same path in the opposite direction toward home, lost in her thoughts. She felt very insignificant and the fact that her problem seemed irrelevant to the rest of the world increased her desperation.

At home Mom heard the little girl bark a terrible cough by the burning stove. She fixed her stare on the little shoes drying nearby, then grabbed the shoes and checked them as she had done several times before, only to confirm that in their desolate state the shoes could not stand one more nail. They were about to fall apart. Now it was Mom’s turn to worry.

“Mom, let me buy her new shoes!” Big Sister saved the day. She was volunteering to buy them from her pocket money, usually spent on stuff for her trousseau. Mom consented to Big Sister’s proposal, despite Grandma’s strong belief that it was past the time for her to get married anyway.

The little heart leapt with joy. “For real? Brand new shoes? Tomorrow?”

The next day came with a lethargic sun, as much anticipated tomorrows always do. The little girl was anxious.

“Let’s go!” The two sisters walked along the street, the big one squeezing her money, the little one squeezing her heart to keep it in place.

The shoe store struck the little girl with terror. It was unpleasantly cold. The saleswoman snailed around, making things worse. Most unfortunately, there was nothing on the metal grid shelves except for a pair of papa-sized boots and a couple of black slippers. Her little heart sank.

The saleswoman and Big Sister exchanged pleasantries. The saleswoman spoke annoyingly slowly as if chatting for the first time in a very long while. Finally the chitchat was over.

“I would like to buy a new pair of shoes for my sister,” Big Sister said, emphasizing the “new” unnecessarily. She was handling the situation so calmly you would think she was buying her daily bread.

The saleswoman stared at the little girl from head to toe and back, though all she needed to inspect were her feet. “I don’t think I have anything for her,” she said matter-of-factly, ”but let me check to be sure.” She disappeared into the unlit back. The little girl wished the saleswoman might disappear completely rather than come back empty-handed. She could take waiting a lifetime, but facing empty hands would be unbearable.

The saleswoman came back with a box. “What’s her size?” The big sister muttered the number. “A one-size-fits-all size,” translated the little heart. “This pair is one size smaller, but this is the closest I can get.” The saleswoman was obviously paying attention only to Big Sister.

The little girl took the right shoe. She almost swooned at the smell of new leather. She squeezed her foot into the shoe. “It hurts, but don’t show it,” said her little heart. She suddenly turned into Cinderella’s stepsister, ready to cut off her toes if need be. Big Sister, not easily fooled, bent down and felt the curled toes. “No, no, you can’t walk straight with these shoes.” The little girl stepped back, defiant. “You’ll have to cut my feet off to take them off me!” her eyes challenged.

The saleswoman, sensing a storm approaching, made a move to prevent the family crisis. “Why don’t you come on Monday?” she said. “A new shipment will be available then.” The girl watched the saleswoman’s face intently for a wink at Big Sister. Deadly serious, the saleswoman did not even blink. With no other option, the little girl dragged herself out of the store.

The two sisters walked silently on the street, the big one squeezing the money, the little one clenching her fists. Too bad there was no one to punch. The little heart was ice cold, yet a flickering flame of faint hope kept burning in a far corner.

“Who am I kidding?” thought the little girl. “Even if she gets new supplies, who says she will get my size? Besides, in two days there is plenty of time for my sister to change her mind or spend the money on some you-can’t-find-it–elsewhere bedspread. By Monday there is even enough time, God forbid, for some distant relative to materialize from nowhere with a pair of very old, smelly shoes, and that would be a nightmare.”

They entered their small apartment. The little girl went straight to her room and sat on her bed, painfully hearing Big Sister explain to Mom and Grandma why they had returned empty-handed. She heard the door open slowly, but she did not turn to look, knowing that no one else but Grandma could be coming in.

Grandma sat by her side with a frown. In her story-telling voice she spoke:

“Once upon a time, there lived a young man in a very far land. He walked down the streets of his little town looking at his shabby shoes, feeling very unhappy, and wondering why he couldn’t have a new pair of shoes. At that moment he passed by a beggar leaning on an oak tree, his hand stretched out asking for alms. As he looked closely he realized that the beggar had no legs. The young man grew very sad and felt ashamed of himself. ‘Shame on me! This man doesn’t have feet and I am feeling miserable because I don’t have decent shoes.’ He reproached himself and gave thanks to God for his feet.” Smiling and caressing little girl’s hair, Grandma continued, “See, my dear, do not despair. God willing, you will get what you don’t have. Meanwhile be thankful for what you already have. Contentment of the heart is the greatest of treasures.”

The little girl, having understood very swiftly the message of the story could not help but comment, “But Grandma, I want to be grateful for my feet and a pair of new shoes.” Grandma smiled at her and whispered, as if revealing a well-kept secret, “God increases the bounties when we thank him. If you are thankful for your feet, he may grant you a pair of shoes as well. Remember, contentment of the heart is the greatest treasure.” After kissing the little girl on the forehead, she left the room as quietly as she had entered it.

The little girl tried to reason, although her brain was turned upside down. “That seems like good advice. What could I be thankful for?” she asked herself. “Well, I have a wonderful grandmother for a start,” she thought with a smile.

On Monday afternoon they went back to the store. First, the saleswoman smiled at them, and then she sluggishly disappeared into the back. “Thank goodness this time I was spared the torment of pleasantries,” the little girl thought, relieved.

With a box in her hands and the air of a savior on her face the saleswoman returned. She lifted the lid and handed the right shoe to the little girl. It fit perfectly. Ta da! Boy, would Cinderella be surprised, or should I say jealous! Stepsister or no, this time she got the shoes. Her little heart was overflowing with bliss until Big Sister stepped into the middle of the majestic celebration. Now what?

“The color...,” she said. “Dark red is not a very appropriate color. Only black and brown polishes are available. They’ll soon get muddy.”
“I did my best,” the saleswoman announced in surrender. Little eyes pleaded with Big Sister, the shoebox crushed in an unyielding embrace. With the saleswoman no longer an ally, Big Sister waved the white flag.

They left the store with the new shoes inside the box. The new shoes would look wonderful under her desk tomorrow. The whole school would marvel at them. Her little heart was beating like a crazy bird in a cage. Her prayer had been answered.

Wait a minute! The girl stopped. Remembering what her grandmother had told her, she paused and whispered, “Thank you,” to the One who had given her all bounties.

“I will never forget this day,” the little girl promised.

But the little girl did forget her promise for many years until the day she witnessed a father trying hard to convince his whining little child that plain shoes are as good as the ones with Pooh Bear printed on them. She once again longed for that sincere thank-you, craving the genuine way it came out of her lips on that memorable day of her life when she got her first ever brand-new shoes.

The Frog Who Taught a Man to Swim

by HRM Deborah

The once was a man that could not swim and actually was a bit afraid, even though he wanted to learn how too.

So one day, he found a frog and he very carefully put the frog into his pants pocket.

He then walked closer to the edge of the pond and jumped in, thinking the frog would keep him afloat. Like a stone he sank to the bottom and wished very hard what he should do.

In this time, the frog wiggled his way out of the man’s pocket and started paddling as hard as the frog could to the surface.

The man seeing the frog paddle, so he thought he would try to do the same, so he worked very hard to move his arms and legs and before he knew he popped to the top of the water and paddled to shore, meeting the frog on the bank.

Satisfied that the frog did indeed teach him how to swim, he was grateful to the frog and thanked him. The frog in turn said, "It would have been easier, if you had not hampered me in your pants pocket.”

The Apple

The following is an ancient children’s story about charity:

Their once was a traveler who had came to a village after having crossed the desert.

He had not eaten in two days.

Of all thing’s he found and apple.

He began walking along thinking how good this food was going to taste and relished the juice, which would come down from his lips.

He happened to look up and on a corner of a street saw a young boy. The boy was ragged and his eyes where black and hollow.

The traveler went and set down by the boy, he looked to be about eight years or so.

The man took out his knife and cut the apple in half. Cleaning is knife he returned it to its place.

He handed half of the apple to the boy and began eating the other half himself.

He looked at the boy and smiled and the child returned the smile in gratitude.

So both where happy to have the apple.