The Sandpiper (inspirational)

[Guest guest]

This comes from someone's heart, has been shared with many and now I would like

to share it with you.

THE SANDPIPER

 

I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world

begins to close in on me.

 

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. She

was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the

sea. ‘Hello,’ she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to

bother with a small child. ‘I'm building,’ she said. ‘I see that. What is

it?’ I asked, not really caring. ‘Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of

sand.’

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.

‘That's a joy,’ the child said.

‘It's a what?’ ‘It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us

joy.’ The bird went gliding down the beach. Goodbye joy, I muttered to

myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed and my life was

completely out of balance. ‘What's your name?’ She wouldn't give up.

‘Robert,’ I answered. ‘I'm Robert Peterson.’ ‘Mine's Wendy... I'm

six.’ ‘Hi, Wendy.’

 

She giggled. ‘You're funny,’ she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too

and walked on. Her musical gigglefollowed me. ‘Come again, Mr. P,’ she

called. ‘We'll have another happy day.’ After a few days of a group of

unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one

morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to

myself, gathering up my coat. The ever changing balm of the seashore awaited

me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity

I needed. ‘Hello, Mr. P,’ she said. ‘Do you want to play?’ ‘What did

you have in mind?’ I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. ‘I don't know, you

say.’ ‘How about charades?’ I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter

burst forth again. ‘I don't know what that is.’ ‘Then let's just walk.’

Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. ‘Where doyou

live?’ I asked. ‘Over there.’ She pointed toward a row of summer

cottages. Strange, Ithought, in winter. ‘Where do you go to school?’ ‘I

don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation.’ She chattered little girl

talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mindwas on other things. When I left

for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feelingsurprisingly better, I

smiled at her and agreed. Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of

near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on

the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

 

‘Look, if you don't mind,’ I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me,

‘I'd rather be alone today.’

 

She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. ‘Why?’ she asked. I turned to

her and shouted, ‘Because my mother died!’ and thought, my God....why was I

saying this to a child! ‘Oh,’ she said quietly, ‘then this is a bad

day.’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and yesterday and the day before and oh, go

away!’ ‘Did it hurt?’ she inquired. ‘Did what hurt?’ I was

exasperated with her, with myself. ‘When she died?’ ‘Of course it

hurt!’ I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. A

month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there.

Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the

cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with

honey colored hair opened the door. ‘Hello,’ I said, ‘I'm Robert Peterson.

I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.’ ‘Oh yes, Mr.

Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her

to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies.’ ‘Not at

all she's a delightful child.’ I said, suddenly realising that I meant what I

had just said. ‘Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe

she didn't tell you.’ Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my

breath. ‘She loved this beach so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no.

She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.

But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly...’ Her voice faltered, ‘She

left something for you ... if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while

I look?’ I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely

young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with ‘MR. P’ printed in bold

childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues a yellow beach, a

blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO

BRING YOU JOY. Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten

to love opened wide.

 

I took Wendy's mother in my arms. ‘I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so

sorry,’ I muttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little

picture is framed now and hangs in my study.

 

Six words one for each year of her life that speak to me of harmony, courage and

undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of

sand who taught me the gift of love. NOTE: This is a true story sent out by

Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his

life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to

enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is

loving oneself less. Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday

traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a

momentary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an

extra hug, and by all means, take a moment, even if it is only ten seconds, to

stop and smell the roses. May Baba Bless everyone that receives this!

Remember... there are NO coincidences! For everyone reading this......I wish

for you, a Sandpiper !!

 

 

Remain Blessed!

 

Duty is God, Work is Worship

[Guest guest]

This story so touched my heart! It has certainly made me reflect on my

'behaviour' with my own children - THANK YOU!

 

May Bhagawan forever bless you to be His wonderful instrument by touching the

hearts of so many through your inspiring messages & poems.

 

Sairam.

 

Your brother in Sai,

 

Paresh

[Guest guest]

Many thanks for sharing this touching story. Yes, we must always give time to

our loved ones as well as appreciate everything in nature that our Lord has

created for us. Because who know, today could be our last day on earth???

Om Sairam.

Vina M