by Edward Fays
Inspired by a family I’ll always remember
Cozy in a Snowstorm
It was wintertime in upstate New York and a fresh snowfall had been forecast for that evening, many years ago. I was hoping to reach my destination before the snow blanketed the roadway, but unfortunately, Mother Nature had other plans. As I drove north, the snow fluttered softly on my windshield at first, but it wasn’t long before the road was ensconced in snow and visibility was almost zero. I had only an hour to go, but in weather like that tragedy could strike in an instant. I decided to play it safe and checked into a quaint hotel I knew just south of the Catskill Mountains.
After arriving, I took a hot shower and meandered into the coffee shop adjacent to the hotel. There I relaxed with a hot cup of brew and a flaky slice of warm apple pie with a dollop of whipped cream melting lazily over the crust while watching the giant snowflakes pile up outside. Families and other motorists checked in and stomped over to the coffee shop for a hot treat and shelter from the cold. I was alone in my booth, but felt a sense of coziness as I watched people sigh with enjoyment as they took their first sip of steaming coffee or soup. Snowstorms have that effect on people. We were all stranded, but nobody seemed to mind. As long as you’re snug inside, it’s the perfect excuse for doing absolutely nothing and enjoying every minute of it.
The restaurant filled up quickly, so when a woman stepped in, dusting the snow from her brow, I gestured that she was welcome to share my booth. Her name was Victoria. We chatted over coffee and our conversation progressed from the weather to traveling and personal interests. We laughed, the time passing like the brisk wind outside. It became one of those mesmerizing evenings I wished could go on forever. Unfortunately, the owner of the coffee shop did not share my sentiment. When he wanted to close, I decided I couldn’t let this chance encounter end over a few cups of coffee. I knew the roads would be cleared by morning, everyone back on their journeys and the cozy feeling of being stranded in a snowstorm just a fond memory.
Knowing that my true intentions were quite obvious, I said, “I’m visiting some friends at Wolfe Lake this weekend. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for another cup of coffee there, or perhaps dinner?”
There are moments in life when fate is on your side and things seem to work just right. For me, that was one of those rimes. She was also visiting friends at Wolfe Lake, but, as it turned out, neither of our friends saw much of us that weekend. I knew of a cozy little restaurant nestled in the woods, and I was able to rekindle the ambience and conversation we’d shared at the coffee shop two evenings earlier.
That was thirty-seven years, two kids, and five grandchildren ago. I often joked with her that if my parents hadn’t taught me good manners, I might never have offered to share my booth and we never would have met. But I did share my booth with her, and she in turn shared her life with me. Occasionally we’d stop back at that coffee shop on our way to visit friends up at Wolfe Lake. Even on sun-soaked days we’d cuddle up in the back booth and feel cozy all over again. We were both big fans of feeling cozy. I don’t think there’s a more delectable feeling in the world.
Today, when I think of Victoria, I always remember the last time I drove up to Wolfe Lake. Another snowstorm hit, and I found myself back at that quaint hotel just south of the Catskill Mountains. I took a hot shower and trudged through the snow over to the coffee shop for a steaming cup of brew and their scrumptious homemade apple pie with whipped cream. They had completely remodeled since we’d last shared the back booth. The staff, however, remained the same. As Gloria poured my first cup, she asked about my wife, and I guess the look on my face said it better than any words I could find.
“I’m sure she’s still with you in spirit,” she said. “It seemed the two of you shared a love that was carved in stone.”
I smiled woefully as I nodded my head and raised the mug of coffee to my lips. And then, as the soothing flavor of the coffee smacked my taste buds, the tender love of my wife tugged at my heartstrings. When I looked down in sadness, I couldn’t believe my eyes—there, etched in the tabletop, surrounded by a heart, was the word COZY. In that back booth she was with me after all.
Inspired by RON MCCARTHY
For Ever and Ever, I Do
Cole Anderson was enjoying a tranquil morning with his grandfather Michael. Floating aimlessly in a metal rowboat riddled with dents, they waited for the fish to bite and chatted about life.
Cole’s grandparents had been married for fifty-four happy years, and on this particular day he needed the advice that came from that level of success. “My marriage is in trouble, Grandpa,” he said, reluctantly. “Part of me wonders how I can fix it, and another part of me wonders if I even want to fix it.”
They each tugged on their lines, hoping to entice some fish, and then Michael reeled in. He saw a few fish rupture the lake’s glasslike surface and cast his hook and worm in that direction. As the bobber hit the water, he watched the ringlets amplify while the little red-and-white plastic ball recoiled on the surface. Cole could see his grandpa was contemplating just what to say.
And then, with the sanguine expression of someone who has all the answers, Michael, still staring at the bobber drifting on the water, softly said, “A happy marriage is a long falling in love. Marriage is very gradual—just a fraction at a time. The real ministers that join two hearts are the long, slow years; the joys and sorrows you face together; the children you create and raise; and the struggles within your family.”
He continued, “A loving marriage is the service and support two people give to each other year after year. Long after the bridal bouquet has withered and the wedding bands are getting worn down. When the honeymoon wanes like the sun behind a mountain, that’s when the real commitment to marriage begins. If, at that time, two people discover they don’t love each other as they once did, they must redouble their attention toward one another. They should be jealous of everything that separates them—even in the slightest way.
“A marriage is too precious to be thrown away because of regrets or differences. If the romance from your marriage has taken wings and flown away, you must recapture it at once. Renew the attention you gave to each other in the earlier days and draw your hearts closer together. Acknowledge your faults and promise that you will be there for each other completely. And you must back up that promise with action and commitment.”
Then Michael took his eyes off the bobber, peered intently at his grandson, and said, “You, as the husband, must honor your wife and show her respect as a beautiful lady. As she grows older and her physical beauty diminishes, let her know that her mental charms have grown more alluring. And she, as the wife, should be gentle to you. She should treat you like a man even as the years pass and, like me, you grow a little more fragile.
“As husband and wife, never say anything you will regret. Always remember that marriage is a blessing, and although it involves many weighty responsibilities, it is a gem in the crown of life. Care for it and it will last forever.”
Cole cautiously reached over, fretful of rocking the boat, and hugged his grandfather, thanking him for sharing his wisdom and guidance.
When the morning hours faded into history and another fishing trip reached its conclusion, Cole drove his grandfather home. As he pulled up to the house, he saw his grandma Ruth watering the tulips outside. She looked radiant as her shiny white hair glinted in the sunlight.
After kissing her hello and talking for a few moments, it was time to go. As he dropped into the driver’s seat, he sighed and thought about what his grandpa shared with him out on the lake. But no words were as potent as the vision he saw through his passenger’s-side window. There, standing among a rainbow of blooming tulips, stood Michael and Ruth waving good-bye—a charming couple whose love had grown deeper with the passing years. Cole thought to himself, Now, that is a blessing—to grow old with the love of your life. And so he headed for home, committed to falling in love all over again.
Inspired by
COLE H. LEELAND
A Link in the Chain
The people we know the best are the ones we can hurt the most. And the people who have been brave enough to bestow their love upon us we can truly destroy. That is why love is so fragile, so precious.
What can we say to a stranger who hurts our feelings? What can they say to us? We have no time invested with them; we’ve never made ourselves vulnerable exposing our weaknesses, so it’s difficult for them to hurt us deeply. The people we love, however, know the wounds we bear on the inside.
Trust is the chain that unites two people and is fashioned one link at a time. Through proving ourselves worthy of another’s love, the chain grows stronger, more robust. When two souls share love, the same scars often mark them. This reinforces the chain, because both people walk with similar wounds on the inside, so they protect each other and possess a unique understanding of one another’s feelings.
There are weaknesses within ourselves that we express to our loved ones; and there are other flaws we wish to hide but are eventually exposed through our behavior. The same way people notice our imperfections, we notice theirs. It’s easy, even tempting, to use the knowledge of their vulnerability against them in times of turmoil and stress—but that undermines trust and works to break the chain.
We must be sensitive to the feelings of those who have offered us their love. It is not only the words we say but also the tone in which we speak that can hurt those closest to us. The feelings of the people we love are more precious than a diamond, yet more fragile than an egg. It’s not because they can’t withstand struggle or disappointment; it’s that they don’t expect us to be the ones to spark those feelings.
Think of the people you love and what they have entrusted to you for safekeeping—their most intimate thoughts, their secrets, their hopes, and their dreams. Picture your children. They pay strict attention to everything you say and do; make sure their link to you is healthy and timeless.
There is a risk in loving; you take a chance on another, and the other on you. There is a risk in raising a family because suddenly a life is wholly dependent upon you. Does it make sense that the people we love the most we can also hurt the most? Yes, because love cannot exist until we abandon ourselves to another’s hands and risk getting hurt. Love is the most exquisite feeling in the world and that reward, like anything precious, comes at a price.
Be keenly aware of the effect your words and actions have on the ones you love. Their hearts lie in your hands.
Inspired by JEAN MOORE
CHAPTER THREE
COURAGE AND SACRIFICE
Admiring the strength of the human spirit that endures tragedy and celebrates triumph
Unexpected circumstances may usher us to the brink and force us out of our comfort zone. They demand that we possess the courage to step forward and make the sacrifices required by the moment. Although we may tremble with uncertainty, we are sure to emerge from the situation with a greater understanding of life, a heightened belief in ourselves, and the assurance that we are in control of our own destiny. Meet ordinary people who, under striking conditions, performed with valor. Their actions and insights will help all of us summon the courage within ourselves.
Captain Courageous
Occasionally we’re lucky enough to learn about someone so remarkable that it’s almost impossible to comprehend. For most of his professional life, John ran an international finance company. I never met him, but was fortunate enough to hear vivid stories about his courage and determination despite what most of us would consider insurmountable challenges.
No matter how much power an individual may wield in business, politics, or any other arena, no one is immune from affliction. John is a victim of Lou Gehrig’s disease, and at sixty-seven years of age he is confined to a bed, paralyzed from the neck down. He cannot breathe on his own, feed or bathe himself, or even swallow food. He can blink his eyes and purse his lips, but that’s the limit of his bodily movements. His physical world is restricted to the point at which most of us would welcome death. John, however, does not live in the physical world; he lives in a mental one. His strength of mind far outweighs his physical handicaps, and in the realm of his imagination he is not confined to a bed and getting fed through a tube. In his mind he is free, strong, capable, and determined. When John stood at the helm of a vast corporation his time was consumed with work; minute by minute his schedule was broken down, assistants making sure he stayed on track with his commitments. But now, with all that behind him and nowhere to go, he has time to pursue a lifelong dream—to write a book, his autobiography. He had just one enormous obstacle to overcome: He could not move a muscle or speak a word. But he has found a way and begun writing.
John first used a special computer mechanism that allowed him to type without the use of his hands. A computerized headset with a flexible wire and special lens at the tip positioned in front of either eye allowed him to register letters on the computer screen each time he blinked. It was a tedious, toilsome process, but he persevered.
When the incessant blinking caused his eyes to burn with irritation, he was forced to find another option. The headset was reconstructed with a narrow tube and a pacifier at the tip, which the nurses had to carefully position in John’s mouth. Now he lightly presses his lips on the pacifier, and a letter registers on the screen. Because saliva builds up quickly, he needs continuous oral suctioning to work.
Like counting the stars in the sky, writing his book appears to be an unending endeavor, but day after day John’s inner strength allows him to stay focused on his goal, take an active part in his care, and maintain an interest in the world around him.
What compels someone to attempt such a daunting task and continue to live when all hope seems lost and there is no chance for recovery? John’s family holds the answer to that question and says it’s simply “love.” Love for his family, for life, and for each moment he is alive, despite his paralysis.
John is not just a keen businessman, eloquent writer, and courageous soul but a proud grandfather of eighteen as well. Those who know him say that his greatest pleasure is visiting with his grandchildren. He talks with them through his voice-synthesized computer. The love he has for them and the joy he receives just seeing their adorable faces are his inspiration to persevere. Although he can’t reach out to them, he tenderly embraces them with his eyes, and they wrap their arms over his rigid body.
John is not concerned about when he will die; he’s only inspired by how much living he can squeeze into each minute he is alive. His gallant attitude has enabled him to carry on as the courageous captain of his life and become an inspiration to those who meet him or learn of his remarkable story.
Inspired by JOHN ANDERSON
Rosie’s Roller Skates
It was many years ago now when a little girl named Rosie was growing up in a low-income neighborhood in New York City. During the summer months when the scorching sun beat down upon the city, local firemen would come around and turn the spigots on the fire hydrants, letting an endless surge of refreshing water flood the streets. The kids splattered gleefully as the water spewed out from the hydrants and cascaded over their legs and feet. It was a primitive swimming pool, but for the poor kids growing up in the Bronx, it was a special treat.
Rosie lived with her grandparents just a few blocks from Tremont Avenue, a main thoroughfare in the neighborhood. She’d been orphaned when a tragic car accident claimed the lives of both her parents. Rosie was a genteel little girl who got straight As in school, always wore her thick black hair in a ponytail, and was adorned in her favorite red dress for church each Sunday morning.
One day, as they strolled home from church, Rosie saw a girl glide by wearing a brand-new pair of white roller skates. She stared in wonder as the girl rolled effortlessly up the street with her hair blowing gently in the breeze. “Grandma! Grandpa! Can I get a pair of roller skates?” Rosie asked. Her grandparents glanced at each other sadly, knowing they couldn’t afford such an ex
pensive item. “My birthday is coming soon, and if I could have anything in the world that is what I would want,” she declared.
Her birthday was a month away, and that evening as her grandparents lay in bed staring at the ceiling, they tried to figure out a way to get Rosie a pair of roller skates. “I could see about getting some overtime,” professed her grandpa.
“But Rosie loves spending time with you each evening,” Grandma said.
Shaking his head, Grandpa replied, “I know. I love spending time with her, too, but it would only be for a few weeks. I think the joy on her face if we could give her a new pair of roller skates for her birthday would be worth it.”
Over the next four weeks, Rosie’s grandpa worked a few extra hours each night at the loading dock, arriving home just before Rosie’s bedtime. He was exhausted from putting in fourteen-hour days, but the twinkle in Rosie’s eyes always rekindled his energy a little bit.
Rosie’s birthday arrived on a sparkling Saturday in early September. That afternoon a few friends came over to enjoy birthday cake and join in a small celebration. Most of the people in the neighborhood were poor, so the gifts were simple—a hair ribbon, a drawing, and ten cents she could spend when the ice cream truck jingled the bell on its daily tour through the neighborhood.
Finally, Rosie’s grandparents gave her their gift. The sheer size of the box thrilled her, and she wildly ripped off the birthday wrapping and placed the bright pink bow in her hair. Her face illuminated and she leaped for joy when she popped off the box top, peeled back the tissue paper, and saw a pair of brand-new white roller skates tucked neatly inside. Her grandma and grandpa cried tears of delight as she gave them both a loving embrace.
That afternoon when the party ended, Rosie’s grandma and grandpa watched as she skated up and down the block with her hair blowing in the wind and a smile of sheer bliss on her face. Her grandpa turned to his wife and said, “Those were tough nights working at the dock after laboring all day in the blistering summer sun, but seeing the happiness in Rosie’s eyes makes it all worthwhile.”