Face of God.

A newspaper photographer was sent to Ecuador in 1987 to cove the earthquake that devastated much of the country. In midst of such catastrophic suffering, he witnessed a scene of compassion that moved him so deeply that he wrote a story about it. Here is his account:


" The line was long but moving briskly and in that line, at the very end, was a young girl about twelve years of age. She waited patiently as all those up front of that long line received a little rice, some canned food and a little fruit. Slowly but surely, she was getting closer to the front of the line, closer to the food that was being distributed.

The young girl did not notice the growing despair on the faces of those distributing the food. The food was running out. Instead, the young girl's attention seemed to be riveted on three younger children who were standing at a distance, across the street."

At long last she stepped forward to get her share of the food. All that was left was a solitary banana.
Quitely she took the precious gift and smiled her gratitude.
Then she ran across the street to the three younger children. She peeled the banana very carefully and divided it into three equal parts.She placed one part of the food into the hands of each famished child.
Then she sat down and with a smile, licked the inside of the banana peel."

"At that moment", the photographer concluded, "I swear I saw the face of GOD!"

Successful or Useful?

When asked what he wished to become, as a young man, Nobel Laureate Albert Einstein was reported to have said, "I want to become a useful person, not a successful person."

Asked what he meant by it, the eminent physicist replied, "A successful person is one who takes from society more than what he gives it. A useful person is one who gives the society more than what he takes from it."

The Starfish

A little boy playing on the beach saw this solitary grey haired veteran walking on the sands close to where the waves ebbed and flowed. Every few steps, the old man would pick up something and throw it back into the sea. The boy ran up and saw to his surprise that the old man was, in fact, throwing starfish back into the sea. His little brown eyes wide open, the boy asked,


“What are you doing, Grandpa?”

“What do you think?” replied the old-timer, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Throwing… starfish… into the… sea?” asked the lad, scratching his head.

“Yup!”

“But, Grandpa, there are so many,” the boy looked up and down the beach.

Hundreds of starfish lay beached on the sands at low tide. He bent down, picked up a small fish and threw it back; then another, and yet another. He stopped and looked up.

“Are you going to throw all of them in? The sea will drop them back again tomorrow at low tide. How many can we save?” he continued.

“What do you figure? Can we save all of them?” asked the old man sending an orange star splashing into deep blue.

“I guess not! Well! Not all of them anyway!”

The old man picked up another and sent it flying into the ocean.

“But definitely that one! Right!”

“Right!”

“You see, kid,” he continued straightening his back with a sigh. “It’s not how many we were able to save, but the ones we have saved that matter.” He swept his gnarled palm expansively at the shore line and continued. “I may not be able to make a difference to all of them.” He paused, picked up a starfish, flicked it out to sea and looked into innocent eyes, three score years younger, “But, it definitely makes a difference to that one…”

The sun sinking into a fiery red ocean smiled at the two figures throwing starfish into the sea.