This
particular story shows that often we are so caught up in ourselves that we
don't even realise that people around us are still suffering. But this little
girl opened this woman's eyes:
She was 6 years old the first time that I met her on the
beach near my house. I always drive to this beach, which is about 5 or 6
kilometres away, when everything seems too much for me and the world seems to
be falling apart around me. The girl was building a sandcastle or something
similar, and happened to look 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 caring. "Oh, I
don't know. I just like the feel of sand." she replied. That sounds good,
I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided ny. "That's a
joy" the child said. "My mama says that sandpipers come to bring us
joy." The bird went gliding down the beach. "Goodbye joy, hello
pain" I muttered to myself, and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my
life seemed completely out of balance. "What's your name?" This girl
just wouldn't give up.
Ruth. I am Ruth Petersen" I said.
"I'm Wendy. .. I'm six."
"Hello Wendy", I replied.
She giggled: "You're funny."
In spite of all of my gloom, I laughed too, and walked on.
Her musical giggle followed me.
"Come again, Mrs. P," she called. "Then we
can have another happy day."
The following days and weeks were filled with stress and
commitments, Boy Scouts, Parent-teacher meetings, and my sick mother. One
morning the sun was shining as I took my hands out of the washing up water.
"I need a sandpiper", I said to myself and picked up my jacket. The
ever-changing smell of the sea awaited me. There was a cool breeze, but I
carried on, trying to recapture the serenity and inner happiness that I needed.
I had completely forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.
"Hello! Do you want to play?"she asked.
"What did you have in mind?", I asked, with a
twinge of annoyance.
"I don't know. You choose!"
"What about charades?" I asked sarcastically.
She burst with laughter: "I don't know what that
is!"
"Then how about we just walk", I suggested. I
noticed how beautiful her little face was. "Where do you live?", I
asked.
"Over there", she pointed towards a row of summer
houses.
Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to
school?"
"I don't go to school. Mum says that we're on
vacation." She continued to chatter the entire time we strolled along the
beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left to go home Wendy said that
it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and
agreed.
3 weeks later I rushed to the beach in a state of panic. I
was not in the mood to even greet Wendy. I thought that I could see her mother
on the veranda and felt like telling her to keep her child at home. "Look
if you don't mind", I said crossly when Wendy came over to 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 am I saying this to a little child?
"Oh", she said. "Then this is a bad
day."
"Yes", I answered, "and so was yesterday and
the day before and, oh ,go away!"
"Did it hurt?" she inquired.
"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, and
with myself.
"When she died?"
"Of course it hurt!!!" I snapped, not
understanding in my grief, and left.
About a month later, when I went to the beach, she wasn't
there. I felt guilty, ashamed, and had to admit that I missed her. So I
gathered up my courage and went up to the summer house after my walk, and
knocked on the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-coloured hair
answered the door. "Hello", I said, "I'm Ruth Peterson. I missed
your little girl today and was wondering where she is."
"Oh, of course, Mrs. Peterson, please come in. Wendy
spoke of you often. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was ever a
nuisance, please, accept my apologies."
"Not at all, she's a delightful child", I said,
suddenly realising that I really meant it. "Where is she?"
"Wendy died last week, Mrs Peterson. She had leukaemia.
Maybe she didn't tell you."
I was dumbstruck, and groped for a chair. The wind was
knocked out of me.
"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come here,
we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she
called happy days. The last few weeks however, she declined rapidly..."
her voice faltered. "She left something for you... if I can just find it.
Would you wait a moment while I look?"
I nodded stupidly, and my mind raced searching for
something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared
envelope, with Mrs. P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing
in bright crayon colours: a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath
was carefully written:
"A sandpiper, to bring you joy"
Tears welled in my eyes, and my heart, that had almost
forgotten how to love, burst open wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms.
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" I muttered over and over, and
we wept together.
The special picture is now framed and hangs in my study. Six
words - one for every year of her life - that tell me of harmony, courage, and
unconditional love. A gift from a girl with sea blue eyes and hair the colour
of sand - who gave me the gift of love.
This
story really makes you stop and think. The last words are so important - above
all, because you don't know when they'll be said. Little Wendy's message helped
this woman to find, and see, the happiness and joy in her life.
source: hefty.co