Most people don't aim too high and miss. They aim too low and hit.

~Bob Moawad

MY FRIDAY STORY

The House of 1000 Mirrors

Long ago in a small, far away village, there was a place known as the House of 1000 Mirrors. A small, happy little dog learned of this place and decided to visit. When he arrived, he bounced happily up the stairs to the doorway of the house. He looked through the doorway with his ears lifted high and his tail wagging as fast as it could. To his great surprise, he found himself staring at 1000 other happy little dogs with their tails wagging just as fast as his. He smiled a great smile, and was answered with 1000 great smiles just as warm and friendly. As he left the house, he thought to himself, "This is a wonderful place. I will come back and visit it often."

In this same village, another little dog, who was not quite as happy as the first one, decided to visit the house. He slowly climbed the stairs and hung his head low as he looked into the door. When he saw the 1000 unfriendly looking dogs staring back at him, he growled at them and was horrified to see 1000 little dogs growling back at him. As he left, he thought to himself, "That is a horrible place, and I will never go back there again."

All the faces in the world are mirrors. What kind of reflections do you see in the faces of the people you meet?

Japanese Folktale

When obstacles arise, you change your direction to reach your goal; you do not change your decision to get there.

~ Zig Ziglar

Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.

~Don Marquis

If you have made mistakes, even serious mistakes, you may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing we call "failure" is not the falling down, but the staying down.

~Mary Pickford

The measure of a life, after all, is not its duration, but its donation.

~Corrie ten Boom

Ginny and I sat on the deck, like we do a lot, and watched the world flow by. A robin flew into the tree in the yard. It had a twig its mouth.

"Looks like they're building a nest." Ginny said.

"I think you're right." I watched the robin select a perfect spot and thread the branch into position. A second robin with a twig joined the first.

Throughout the next few days, we watched the mates work together to construct a resting place for their soon-to- be-laid eggs. The nest was completed. A few days later, momma bird settled into her new home. They two parents took turns warming the eggs, always aware of the needs of the other and their precious charge. Each knew the other needed nourishment and the eggs needed warmth. It was a perfect partnership.

Every hour or less, the two robins traded places keeping the eggs safe, while the other flew off in search of warmth. The rains fell. At night, the temperatures dropped below freezing, but the two robins, who chose a safe position for their nest, stuck by their eggs. They knew their duties. The wind blew; the tree rocked; and the robins held tight. The eggs would not fall on their watch.

A week or two later, Ginny and I watched as they carried worms to the newly hatched babies. Again, they took turns, sacrificing their own needs for the babies God blessed them with. We watched three little beaks rise above the rim of the nest, and reach for Mom or Dad, as they delivered their meals.

One morning I sat, drank my tea and read a book. The morning sun warmed me. The day was peaceful. No one stirred. I heard a bird chirp in front of me. I looked up. No bird was in sight. It chirped again.

"OK! I hear you, but where are you?"

I stood. The yard was empty. The chirping stopped. I gave the yard one more look, scratched my head, and sat to read. Out of the corner of my eye, I detected movement. One of the young robins hoped over my foot, chirped, and looked up at me. Little white baby feathers stuck out from the side of its face and head. It looked like a bad feather day for this one.

"Hey, little fella. Did you make the big leap?"

"Chirp!"

"Really?" I asked. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Chirp!"

I moved. Little robin hopped to the safety of a small bush by the fence.

"So that's where you've been hiding!"

He peeked out at me from behind the thorny branches.

"Chirp!"

I left him or her alone and went inside. Later, I went outside and there were two of the babies on the patio. Only one remained in the nest. It sat on the edge of the nest, chirped for his siblings, but they were gone. Mom and Dad followed their two coup-flying offspring around the yard. They no longer pushed worms between the baby's beaks. They put the worms beside them. The hungry young needed to learn how to satisfy their hunger, pick up the worms and feed themselves. In the nest, the last of the family sat and continued to chirp for its dinner. I watched it for another day. Momma and Daddy flew to a branch close to the nest with a tasty worm dangling from their beaks. The last baby chirped and watched its parent fly off with dinner.

"Chirp! My dinner?"

It sat at the edge of the nest and cried out for food, but Mom and Dad refused. It hopped around the edge of the nest, leaned forward, flapped its wings, chirped hesitated, and settled back in the nest. It cried for food, but none came. Momma and Poppa had worms. They dangled them in front of their baby. Momma flew off. Hunger took over. Baby jumped to the edge of the nest. Its fear was a smaller power than its hunger. It balanced, looked at the ground, spread its young wings and leaped toward momma on the ground. Nature taught it to flap and fly. Its heart raced as the ground gently came up to greet it. Momma rewarded its effort with the food it so badly wanted.

Robins, who mate for life, have many lessons to teach: a life devoted to their mate, commitment to family, and the ability to look at their children and say,

"Life has many worms. If you want yours, you need to fly.

You need to know when it is time to fly from the nest."