Once upon a time, a little candle was created into the world. The candle was so glad to be alive and could not wait to experience itself for what it knew it was. “I am the light!” the candle shouted joyfully and immediately, a tiny flame appeared at its end. The little candle felt the warmth that the flame provided and watched it sway magnificently with a graceful dance of yellow, orange and blue.

But despite realizing its purpose, the little candle was not happy. You see, the candle was born into the world during the day. The sun was shining with a brilliance that made the little candle feel like a single drop of water in an ocean. And so, the little candle hung its head with shame because of its insignificant contribution in a world where everything was the light; all the while yearning and yearning that it would know itself for what it really was.

The Creator was passing by and the little candle lifted its forlorn face and implored earnestly; “What must I do in order to see myself and experience myself for who I really am?” The Creator replied, “You must separate yourself from the rest of the light and then, you must call upon yourself the darkness.” The little candle was perplexed and asked, “What is the darkness, o Holy One?”
“That which you are not,” replied the Creator; and the little light understood.

And so, the little candle withdrew itself from the day and called upon itself all sorts of darkness. It was a frightening experience, and the flame constantly flickered to say the least. However, the little candle stood brave through the whole experience. And just as the Creator had promised, it was only then that the candle was able to realize itself for what it really was.

We sometimes lose sight of our purpose in this life. And just like the little candle, we withdraw from the world and call upon ourselves all sorts of darkness – hopelessness, rejection, uncertainty, despair, loss, violence, disease; our blackest times accompanied by great fear. How can we not, while it is just we against all the odds piled in front of us? How can we not, while all our efforts have not produces a single positive result yet? How can we not, when we are not sure if the big break will ever come?

Today, you might know it is there but not feel it at all – hope…light at the end of the tunnel…that which beckons you ahead. If I just remember the warmth that my small flame provides and its magnificent sway of a graceful dance with many colors, I can then shout, “I am the light!” and once more see and experience who I really am for one more day – whether the sun is shining or not.

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive – and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding – this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bed-side in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy – a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

- By W. Livingston Larned

Many people, I included, are guilty of what my best friend calls ‘lint picking.’ This expression comes from the habit of picking the minute pieces of fabric that stick to another person’s clothing instead of admiring the color and texture of the cloth. Sounds familiar?

Lint picking has ruined many a good intentions. For example, the natural desire for a parent to want what is best for his or her child might result in a dad or a mum trying to correct a single mistake the kid does without applauding 9 successful ones. Now, supposing the parent first showed sincere appreciation by congratulating the kid for the 9 and then, let him know how much more rewarding a perfect 10 can be? This approach is likely to serve as a confidence booster and will arouse in the kid the desire to excel.

Showing sincere appreciation can change a person’s life.

Years ago, a teacher in Detroit asked a boy called Stevie Morris to help her find a mouse that was lost in the classroom. You see, she appreciated the fact that nature had given Stevie something no one else in the room had. Nature had given Stevie a remarkable pair of ears to compensate for his blind eyes. But this was really the first time Stevie had been shown appreciation for those talented ears. Now, years later, he says that this act of appreciation was the beginning of a new life. You see, from that time on he developed his gift of hearing and went on to become, under the stage name of Stevie Wonder, one of the great pop singers and songwriters of the seventies.

Showing sincere appreciation can change a person’s life.

My neighbor has a three and a half year old daughter called Linda. When I am home during the day, Linda pops in to spend time with me. She loves examining my electronic gadgets, asking endless questions about everything, and scribbling on old newspapers with a pen. She sometimes brings along her doll named Baby. Baby is almost the size of Linda.

Linda always knows what is best for Baby. For example, she feed her on an imaginary diet of cooked mango. She often talks to Baby…and can hear Baby speak to her. On one or two occasions, Linda has interrupted what she is doing and announced that Baby had woken up and was crying for attention. You can tell Linda is alarmed by Baby’s distress by the rush in which she runs into her house to pick Baby from bed. Of course I neither hear the cries nor anything that the plastic doll says.

Yesterday, Linda placed Baby on my lap and instructed me to hold her gently. She then went to draw some whorls with a ball pen she had just snatched from my hand. Whorls are the only thing that she knows how to ‘write’ yet. I wanted to do some writing as well; and so I sweetly asked Linda if she could hold her doll. With that, Linda came closer, placed her ear next to the doll’s lips and told me that Baby had asked that I continue holding her. There is nothing I could say to make Linda take Baby and so, I had to soothe the doll to ’sleep’. It was only then that the young girl willingly obliged to lay her doll on a seat in my house.

I was startled this morning when I entered the semi dark room and saw a baby lying on the seat, only to realize it was Linda’s doll. I was glad Linda was not here. The last thing I wanted was to start the day by cuddling a plastic doll.

As I groggily watched the adorable life size plastic baby awkwardly lying on a seat, I could not help but marvel at the hopelessness there is in one person relying on others to make his or her personal decisions. When we lose control of this paramount right in our lives, we end up in unhappy situations without our own volition – just like Baby. I know that despite having important plans, a person can be unhappily drinking in a bar because his friends are there…Many sad men and women find themselves being held by strangers simply because the family insists that the person was ‘right’ for them…I can assure you that a self disgusted person woke up in a strange bed this morning because he or she could not say ‘no’ last night.

Linda coming into my house whenever it is convenient for her…Her making decisions about what is best for Baby – Is the right to decide for ourselves and even for others something that we instinctively acquire? Having observed a kid that lacks company, then you know that rather than sit down bored, the little boy or girl will have a host of things to do. Each one of these things requires a single decision. Little children have many small discoveries to make in the world by themselves.

There is nothing else that so kills the ambitions of a person as criticisms from superiors. When one consistently hears, ‘bad’…’stop’…’wrong’, whenever he or she attempts to execute a decision, that person starts losing confidence in his or her own abilities. This applies to adults as well as children. There is a saying that encourages everyone to, ‘think wrongly if you must…but always think for yourself.’ No person is ever too old to learn this valuable lesson.