A Flower From A Blind Boy

November 24, 2013

Things dragging you down?

Failed to meet your quota thismonth and today is reporting day.

Sales down and expenses up?

Stock prices are a joke!

Inventory rising and salesdecreasing?

Enough reasons to pull you down.I don’t blame you. I’ve had my lessons from all these. But notice the word Iused: lessons. Not failures.

Some times we simply need tolook at things from a different perspective. Sometimes we need to see – butcan  we really?

Listen to a poem that talksabout this.

I don’t have the author’s nameand I don’t even have its title. If you come across it then let me know.

Here is the poem:

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read

Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.

Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,

For the world was intent on dragging me down.


And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day,

A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired fromplay.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down

And said with great excitement, “Look what Ifound!”


In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,

With its petals all worn – not enough rain, or too littlelight.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,

I faked a small smile and then shifted away.


But instead of retreating he sat next to my side

And placed the flower to his nose and declared withoveracted surprise,

“It sure smells pretty and it’s beautiful, too.

That’s why I picked it; here, it’s for you.”


The weed before me was dying or dead.

Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.

But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.

So I reached for the flower, and replied, “Just what Ineed.”


But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,

He held it mid-air without reason or plan.

It was then that I noticed for the very first time

That weed holding boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun

As I thanked him for picking the very best one.

You’re welcome,” he smiled, and then slowly ran off toplay,

Unaware of the impact he’d had on my day.


I sat there and wondered how he managed to see

A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.

How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart, he’d been blessed with true sight.


Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see

The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.

And for all of those times I myself had been blind,

I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate everysecond  that’s mine.


And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose

And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose

And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in hishand

About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.



Boy…..oh boy. How much we need to see!

Listen. No problem could ever be bigger than the God whom welove and serve.

God is our Strength and our Refuge. And In Him we need notfear!

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