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Invisiblespudamore
Stranger
Male
Registered: 06/12/03
Posts: 1,460
Loc: Australia
Stories
    #3463392 - 12/08/04 08:15 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

just a couple old email stories mostly likely quite a few have already seen them but thought was worth a post.
enjoy

Beautiful Heart

One day a young man was
standing in the middle of
the town proclaiming that
he had the most beautiful
heart in the whole valley.
A large crowd gathered
and they all admired his
heart for it was perfect.
There was not a mark
or a flaw in it.
Yes, they all agreed it
truly was the most beautiful
heart they had ever seen.
The young man was very proud
and boasted more loudly
about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man
appeared at the front
of the crowd and said,
"Why your heart is not
nearly as beautiful as mine."

The crowd and the young man
looked at the old man's heart.
It was beating strongly,
but full of scars,it had
places where pieces had been
removed and other pieces put in,
but they didn't fit quite right
and there were several jagged edges.
In fact, in some places there
were deep gouges where whole
pieces were missing.

The people stared --
how can he say his heart is
more beautiful, they thought?
The young man looked at the
old man's heart and saw
its state and laughed.
"You must be joking," he said.
"Compare your heart with mine,
mine is perfect and yours is
a mess of scars and tears."

"Yes," said the old man,
"yours is perfect looking
but I would never trade with you.
You see, every scar represents
a person to whom I have given
my love - I tear out a
piece of my heart and
give it to them, and often
they give me a piece of their
heart which fits into the
empty place in my heart, but
because the pieces aren't exact,
I have some rough edges,
which I cherish, because they
remind me of the love we shared.
Sometimes I have given
pieces of my heart away,
and the other person hasn't
returned a piece of his heart to me.
These are the empty gouges --
giving love is taking a chance.
Although these gouges are
painful, they stay open,
reminding me of the love
I have for these people too,
and I hope someday they may
return and fill the space I have waiting.
So now do you see what
true beauty is?"

The young man stood silently
with tears running down his cheeks.
He walked up to the old man,
reached into his perfect
young and beautiful heart,
and ripped a piece out.
He offered it to the old man
with trembling hands.

The old man took his offering,
placed it in his heart and then
took a piece from his old scarred
heart and placed it in the
wound in the young man's heart.
It fit, but not perfectly,
as there were some jagged edges.

The young man looked at his heart,
not perfect anymore but more
beautiful than ever, since love
from the old man's heart flowed into his.
They embraced and walked away side by side.

Author: Unknown

A new young monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to help the other monks in copying the old canons and laws of the church by hand. He notices, however, that all of the monks are copying from copies, not from the original manuscript.

So, the new monk goes to the head abbot to question this, pointing out that if someone made even a small error in the first copy, it would never be picked up. In fact, that error would be continued in all of the subsequent copies.

The head monk says, "We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son."

So, he goes down into the dark caves underneath the monastery where the original manuscript is held in a locked vault that hasn't been opened for hundreds of years.

Hours go by and nobody sees the old abbot. So, the young monk gets worried and goes downstairs to look for him. He sees him banging his head against the wall. His forehead is all bloody and bruised and he is crying uncontrollably. The young man asks the old abbot, What's wrong, father?

With a choking voice, the old abbot replies, "The word is celebrate."


--------------------
suicide a permanent solution to a temporary problem


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InvisibleFreakQlibrium
Son of Uncle Meat
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Registered: 06/06/02
Posts: 19,058
Loc: Toronto Canada Flag
Re: Stories [Re: spudamore]
    #3463471 - 12/08/04 08:56 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

That first story actually brought tears to my eyes man, and let me tell you: THAT doesn't happen very often with me(like how about never?) :heart:


--------------------
"Being crazier than a shithouse rat is not sufficient grounds for banishment"



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InvisibleFreakQlibrium
Son of Uncle Meat
Male User Gallery

Registered: 06/06/02
Posts: 19,058
Loc: Toronto Canada Flag
Re: Stories [Re: spudamore]
    #3463473 - 12/08/04 08:59 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

With a choking voice, the old abbot replies, "The word is celebrate"



:lol:


Man, you sure do know how to mix your metaphors :wink:


--------------------
"Being crazier than a shithouse rat is not sufficient grounds for banishment"



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Invisiblespudamore
Stranger
Male
Registered: 06/12/03
Posts: 1,460
Loc: Australia
Re: Stories [Re: FreakQlibrium]
    #3463495 - 12/08/04 09:13 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

i love the second one, because it definately could happen, just like chinese whispers.


--------------------
suicide a permanent solution to a temporary problem


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InvisibleFreakQlibrium
Son of Uncle Meat
Male User Gallery

Registered: 06/06/02
Posts: 19,058
Loc: Toronto Canada Flag
Re: Stories [Re: spudamore]
    #3463510 - 12/08/04 09:26 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

Anything's possible man  :lol:

I'm glad you put those 2 stories in the order in which you did my friend, it's fine to indulge in genuine human (You-Man?) sadness but much better to engage in a rip roaring laff riot :grin:


--------------------
"Being crazier than a shithouse rat is not sufficient grounds for banishment"



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Invisiblespudamore
Stranger
Male
Registered: 06/12/03
Posts: 1,460
Loc: Australia
Re: Stories [Re: FreakQlibrium]
    #3463743 - 12/08/04 11:12 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

well the last one before bed. most of you'll have heard of it before

I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying
groceries. I wasn't hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 7 years wasstill too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories. He often came with me and almost every time he'd pretend to go off and look for something special. I knew what he was up to. I'd always spot him walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands. He knew I loved yellow roses.

With a heart filled with grief, I only wanted to buy my few items and
leave, but even grocery shopping was different since he had passed on.
Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two.

Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and
remembered how he had loved his steak. Suddenly a woman came beside me. ! She was blonde, slim and lovely in a soft green pantsuit. I watched as she picked up a large pack of T-bones, dropped them in her basket, hesitated, and then put them back.

She turned to go and once again reached for the pack of steaks. She saw me watching her and she smiled. "My husband loves T-bones, but honestly, at these prices, I don't know." I swallowed the emotion down my throat and met her pale blue eyes. "My husband passed away eight days ago," I told her.

Glancing at the package in her hands, I fought to control the Tremble in my voice. "Buy him the steaks. And cherish every moment you have together."

She shook her head and I saw the emotion in her eyes as she placed the
package in her basket and wheeled away.

I turned and pushed my cart across the length of the store to the dairy products. There I stood, trying to decide which size milk I should buy.
Quart, I finally decided and moved on to the ice cream. If nothing else, I could always fix myself an ice cream cone. I placed the ice cream in my cart and looked down the aisle toward the front.

I saw first the green suit, then recognized the pretty lady coming towardsme. In her arms she carried a package. On her face was the brightest smile I had ever seen. I would swear a soft halo encircled her blonde hair as
she kept walking toward me, her eyes holding mine. As she came closer, I saw what she held and tears began misting in my eyes. "These are for you," she said and placed three beautiful long stemmed yellow roses in my arms.

"When you go through the line, they will know these are paid for." She
leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then smiled again. I
wanted to tell her what she'd done, what the roses meant, but still unable to speak, I watched as she walked away as tears clouded my vision. I looked down at the beautiful roses nestled in the green tissue wrapping and found it almost unreal.

How did she know? Suddenly the answer seemed so clear. I wasn't alone..

Oh, you haven't forgotten me, have you? I whispered, with tears in my
eyes.

He was still with me, and she was his angel.


--------------------
suicide a permanent solution to a temporary problem


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InvisibleSwami
Eggshell Walker

Registered: 01/19/00
Posts: 15,413
Loc: In the hen house
Re: Stories [Re: spudamore]
    #3463798 - 12/08/04 11:30 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

...and she was his angel

Humans and angels are different creatures altogether.


--------------------



The proof is in the pudding.


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InvisibleFreakQlibrium
Son of Uncle Meat
Male User Gallery

Registered: 06/06/02
Posts: 19,058
Loc: Toronto Canada Flag
Re: Stories [Re: Swami]
    #3463863 - 12/08/04 11:50 AM (12 years, 3 months ago)

Leave it to YOU to spoil a happy ending  :mad:



:lol:


--------------------
"Being crazier than a shithouse rat is not sufficient grounds for banishment"



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