Weakness or Strength?

Sometimes your biggest weakness can become your biggest strength.

Take, for example, the story of one 10-year-old boy who decided to
study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a
devastating car accident.

The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was
doing well, so he couldn't understand why, after three months of
training the master had taught him only one move.

"Sensei," the boy finally said, "Shouldn't I be learning more moves?"

"This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you'll ever
need to know," the sensei replied.

Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept
training.

Several months later, the sensei took the boy to his first tournament.
Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third
match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent
became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to
win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the
finals.

This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced.
For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the
boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop
the match when the sensei intervened.

"No," the sensei insisted, "Let him continue."

Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake:
he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The
boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion.

On the way home, the boy and sensei reviewed every move in each
and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what
was really on his mind.
"Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?"

"You won for two reasons," the sensei answered. "First, you've almost
mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second,
the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grip your
left arm."

The boy's biggest weakness had become his biggest strength.

Your Personal Angel

A story about an angel who has been taking care of you even before
you were born and will always take care no matter how much you
grow old.... you know that angel as Mother, Mamma, Mom...

My mom only had one eye. I hated her… She was such an
embarrassment. She cooked for students and teachers to support the
family.

There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came
to say hello to me. I was so embarrassed.

How could she do this to me? I ignored her, threw her a hateful look
and ran out. The next day at school one of my classmates said, ‘Eeee,
your mom only has one eye!’

I wanted to bury myself. I also wanted my mom to just disappear. I

confronted her that day and said, ‘ If you’re only gonna make me a
laughing stock, why don’t you just die?’

My mom did not respond… I didn’t even stop to think for a second
about what I had said, because I was full of anger. I was oblivious to
her feelings.

I wanted out of that house, and have nothing to do with her. So I

studied real hard, got a chance to go abroad to study.
Then, I got married. I bought a house of my own. I had kids of my own.
I was happy with my life, my kids and the comforts. Then one day, my
Mother came to visit me. She hadn’t seen me in years and she didn’t
even meet her grandchildren.

When she stood by the door, my children laughed at her, and I yelled at
her for coming over uninvited. I screamed at her, ‘How dare you come
to my house and scare my children!’ Get Out Of Here! Now!’

And to this, my mother quietly answered, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I may have
gotten the wrong address,’ and she disappeared out of sight.

One day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house. So I

lied to my wife that I was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I
went to the old shack just out of curiosity.

My neighbors said that she died. I did not shed a single tear. They
handed me a letter that she had wanted me to have.

My dearest son,

I think of you all the time. I’m sorry that I came to your house and
scared your children.

I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I may
not be able to even get out of bed to see you. I’m sorry that I was a
constant embarrassment to you when you were growing up.

You see... when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost
your eye. As a mother, I couldn’t stand watching you having to grow up
with one eye. So I gave you mine.

I was so proud of my son who was seeing a whole new world for me, in
my place, with that eye.

With all my love to you,

Your mother 

The Master's Hand

Wishing to encourage her young son’s progress on the piano, a mother
took the small boy to a concert of the famous pianist, Paderewski.
After they were seated, the mother spotted a friend in the audience
and walked down the aisle to greet her. Seizing the opportunity to
explore the wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and
eventually explored his way through a door marked “No Admittance.”

When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the
mother returned to her seat and discovered that her son was missing.
Suddenly, the curtains parted and the spotlights focused on the
impressive Steinway piano on stage.

In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard.
Innocently, he then began to play "Chopsticks" .    The crowd reacted
with anger, some shouts were heard, "Take the boy away!", "Who is
bringing a little boy to a concert?!".

When Paderewski heard the uproar backstage, he grabbed his coat

and rushed to the stage. Realizing what was going on, he went to the
piano, Reaching around the little boy from behind, the master began to
improvise a countermelody to “chopsticks.” As the two of them played
together, Paderewski kept whispering in the boy's ear, “Keep going.
Don't quit, son... don't stop... don't stop.”

Together, the old master and the little boy transformed an

embarrassing situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The
audience was mesmerized.

God Make Me A TV

Students at an elementary school were asked to write an essay about

what they would like God to do for them. At the end of the day, while
grading the essays, a teacher read one that made her very emotional.

Her husband, who had just walked in, saw her crying and asked her
"What happened?" She answered "Read this. It is one of my school's
students' essays.":
"Oh God, tonight I ask you something very special. Make me into a
television set. I want to take its place and live like the TV in my house.

Have my own special place, and have my family around me. To be

taken seriously when I talk. I want to be the center of attention and be
heard without interruptions or questions.

I want to receive the same special care as the TV set receives even
when it is not working. Have the company of my dad when he arrives
home from work, even when he is tired. And I want my mom to want
me when she is sad and upset, instead of ignoring me. And I want my
brothers to fight to be with me.

I want to feel that family just leaves everything aside, every now and
then, just to spend some time with me. And last but not least, ensure
that I can make them all happy and entertain them. Lord I don't ask
you for much. I just want to live like a TV."

At that moment the husband said "My God, poor kid. What horrible
parents!"

The wife looked up at him and said "That essay is our son's!"

The Cookie Thief

A woman was waiting at an airport one night, with several long hours
before her flight. She hunted for a book in the airport shops, bought a
bag of cookies and found a place to drop.

She was engrossed in her book but happened to see, that the man
sitting beside her, as bold as could be... grabbed a cookie or two from
the bag in between, which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.

So she munched the cookies and watched the clock, as the gutsy
cookie thief diminished her stock. She was getting more irritated as
the minutes ticked by, thinking, “If I wasn’t so nice, I would blacken
his eye.”
With each cookie she took, he took one too, when only one was left,
she wondered what he would do. With a smile on his face, and a
nervous laugh, he took the last cookie and broke it in half.

He offered her half, as he ate the other, she snatched it from him and
thought… Oooh, brother. This guy has some nerve and he’s also rude,
why he didn’t even show any gratitude!

She had never known when she had been so galled, and sighed with
relief when her flight was called. She gathered her belongings and
headed to the gate, refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate.

She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat, then she sought her book,
which was almost complete. As she reached in her baggage, she
gasped with surprise, there was her bag of cookies, in front of her
eyes.

If mine are here, she moaned in despair, the others were his, and he
tried to share. Too late to apologize, she realized with grief, that she
was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief

The Whole World Stinks

Wise men and philosophers throughout the ages have disagreed on

many things, but many are in unanimous agreement on one point: "We
become what we think about." Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "A man is
what he thinks about all day long." The Roman emperor Marcus
Aurelius put it this way: "A man's life is what his thoughts make of it."
In the Bible we find: "As a man thinks in his heart, so is he."

One Sunday afternoon, a cranky grandfather was visiting his family. As

he lay down to take a nap, his grandson decided to have a little fun by
putting Limburger cheese on Grandfather's mustache. Soon, grandpa
awoke with a snort and charged out of the bedroom saying, "This room
stinks." Through the house he went, finding every room smelling the
same. Desperately he made his way outside only to find that "The
whole world stinks!"
So it is when we fill our minds with negativism. Everything we
experience and everybody we encounter will carry the scent we hold
in our mind.

The Baker and the Farmer

A baker in a little country town bought the butter he used from a

nearby farmer. One day he suspected that the bricks of butter were
not full pounds, and for several days he weighed them.

He was right. They were short weight, and he had the farmer arrested.

At the trial the judge said to the farmer, "I presume you have scales?"

"No, your honor."

"Then how do you manage to weigh the butter you sell?" inquired the
judge.

The farmer replied, "That's easily explained, your honor. I have

balances and for a weight I use a one-pound loaf I buy from the baker."

Moral of the story: In life, you get what you give. Don’t try and cheat
others.

Complain! Complain! Complain!

It takes a disciplined spirit to endure the monastery on Mount Serat in

Spain. One of the fundamental requirements of this religious order is
that the young men must maintain silence. Opportunities to speak are
scheduled once every two years, at which time they are allowed to
speak only two words.
One young initiate in this religious order, who had completed his first
two years of training, was invited by his superior to make his first two-
word presentation. "Food terrible," he said.

Two years later the invitation was once again extended. The young
man used this forum to exclaim, "Bed lumpy."

Arriving at his superior's office two years later he proclaimed, "I quit."
The superior looked at this young monk and said, "You know, it doesn't
surprise me a bit. All you've done since you arrived is complain,
complain, complain.

Exaggerated? Maybe. What if you were asked to share two words that
describe your Life? Would your focus be the lumps, bumps, and
unfairness, or are you committed to dwell on those things that are
good, right, and lovely?

The Mountain

There were two warring tribes in the Andes, one that lived in the
lowlands and the other high in the mountains. The mountain people
invaded the lowlanders one day, and as part of their plundering of the
people, they kidnapped a baby of one of the lowlander families and
took the infant with them back up into the mountains.

The lowlanders didn't know how to climb the mountain. They didn't
know any of the trails that the mountain people used, and they didn't
know where to find the mountain people or how to track them in the
steep terrain.

Even so, they sent out their best party of fighting men to climb the
mountain and bring the baby home.

The men tried first one method of climbing and then another. They
tried one trail and then another. After several days of effort, however,
they had climbed only several hundred feet.
Feeling hopeless and helpless, the lowlander men decided that the
cause was lost, and they prepared to return to their village below.

As they were packing their gear for the descent, they saw the baby's
mother walking toward them. They realized that she was coming down
the mountain that they hadn't figured out how to climb.

And then they saw that she had the baby strapped to her back. How
could that be?

One man greeted her and said, "We couldn't climb this mountain. How
did you do this when we, the strongest and most able men in the
village, couldn't do it?"

She shrugged her shoulders and said, "It wasn't your baby."

Two Apples

A lovely little girl was holding two apples with both hands. Her mom
came in and softly asked her little daughter with a smile: my sweetie,
could you give your mom one of your two apples?

The girl looked up at her mom for some seconds, then she suddenly
took a quick bite on one apple, and then quickly on the other. The mom
felt the smile on her face freeze. She tried hard not to reveal her
disappointment.

Then the little girl handed one of her bitten apples to her mom, and
said: mommy, here you are. This is the sweeter one.

No matter who you are, how experienced you are, and how
knowledgeable you think you are, always delay judgment. Give others
the privilege to explain themselves. What you see may not be the
reality. Never conclude for others.

A Glass Of Milk
A young poor boy who was begging from door to door to feed his
hungry stomach, decided he would ask for a meal at the next house.
However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the
door. Instead of a meal, he just asked for a glass of water, the woman
thought he looked hungry, so she brought him a large glass of milk. He
drank it slowly, and then asked "how much do I owe you?."

"You don't owe me anything, she replied. Mother has taught us never
to accept pay for kindness." He said, "Then I thank you from my heart".

Years later, that young woman became critically ill, the local doctors
were battling because they couldn't cure her, they finally sent her to
the big city, where they called specialists to study her rare illness.

Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation, when he heard the
name of the town where she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.
Immediately, he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her
room. He recognized her at once.

He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to

save her life. From that day, he gave special attention to that case.
After a long struggle, the battle was won! Dr. Kelly requested the
business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at
it, then wrote something on the bill. It was sent to her room, the
woman feared opening it, for she was sure it might take the rest of her
life to pay for it all.

Finally she looked, and noticed something was written at the edge of
the note, 'paid in full with a glass of milk'. Tears filled her eyes as she
immediately remembered...

Every form of kindness you show doesn't bounce, it reproduces itself.

Not necessarily before your eyes, but it always does. It is good to be
good. Always be nice for it always comes back to you.

Writing anecdotes and real-life examples

MARCH 17, 2014
 If you are writing a personal, creative, reflective essay
or “hybrid” expository, you will need to include anecdotes, or short recounts about
people or about yourself-as-main-character.

 A personal anecdote should be relatable, dramatic and colourful, consisting of

sharp and accurate descriptions,  possibly humorous, and often showing raw
emotions. It must relate to the prompt or to the theme of your discussion.
 A real-life story or anecdotal evidence draws upon people’s every-day (ordinary)
and/or extraordinary experiences; it may draw upon articles or short stories you
have read. It must be meaningful.
 You must capture as accurately as possible the protagonist’s (person-as-main-
character’s) views, values, attitudes, responses, dilemmas and reactions.
 What are they thinking and feeling?
 Think about the descriptions you use to reflect their state of mind; be as fresh
and original as possible. If possible use some figurative devices – metaphor,
similes, personification.)
 An anecdote or recount comes to life if it captures people’s uniqueness,
differences and/or idiosyncrasies. Even ordinary, common incidents or events
will not be just another cliché if you use interesting and precise descriptions.

See “Writing in Context”

Here’s a few of my favourite ones. You will notice that the example provides a very
accurate insight into how the person is thinking and feeling.  It gives a chance to step
inside their shoes, or as Scout says in To Kill a Mockingbird, to “wriggle around in their
skin”.

Notice how the person is in a position of weakness; they are showing quiet courage or
resilience in the face of difficulties; often showing a sense of humour.
Sometimes short, snappy dialogue works well.

See: Tim Costello: “The lessons still to be learnt from Rwanda”, The Age, Monday 7 April
2014.

Tim Costello, the chief executive of World Vision of Australia, discusses the ability of
Rwandan citizens to forgive and heal the terrible scars caused by the genocide in 1994.
The genocide include 100 days of “frenzied violence and merciless killing that left more
than 800,000 Rwandans dead.” For the past 20 years, these events cast a dark shadow
over the lives of Rwandans. The survivors and perpetrators held 100 days of national
mourning to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the killings. Costello writes:

“But I believe that the extraordinary progress Rwanda has made is equally due to the
extraordinary decision that Rwandans have made to forgive each other and
themselves. You don’t have to have been in the country very long before you realise
that this is the choice that virtually every Rwandan has made – whether they are
survivors, perpetrators or their descendants.

I met one such Rwandan last week. His name is Gaspard. Now 39-years-old, he was
only 19 when he lost his parents and 10 siblings in the genocide. He quietly told me
that he had chosen to forgive his Hutu school friend who had savagely killed some of
his siblings. This perpetrator eventually confessed and was released from jail. This man
took Gaspard and showed him the grave where he had dumped their bodies.

Gaspard also told me he had rebuilt his parent’s family home and has two young
children of his own. Yes he remembers, but there is no trace of bitterness and he has
embraced his family’s attackers. Gaspard, like most Rwandans, has taken to heart
Desmond Tutu’s admonition: ‘‘There is no future without forgiveness”.”

Read more: http://www.theage.com.au/comment/the-lessons-still-to-be-learnt-from-

rwanda-20140404-zqqps.html#ixzz2zNW9TRnt

Lonely years, (Good Weekend, 15th March 2014: the stories are from Fiona Scott
Norman’s book. The author interviewed local celebrities and collected their stories in
a new book called Don’t Peak at High School: From Bullied to A-List.

Stella Young (comedian with a disability)

“At high school, I just wanted to fit in with my non-disabled friends. I didn’t like hanging
out with other people with disabilities. But walking to class with friends, invariably I’d
have to duck off and find the accessible entrance, and I’d get really worried about
rejoining the conversation. I’d pretend I hadn’t missed huge chunks. I’d be all, “Oh, yes,
yes. Of course.” ….

I had surgery on my legs in year 8, so I had time off school, and it was at the end of
Year 8 that they kicked me out. I stressed all holidays because I was terrified of having
no friends. So I thought, “Right, I’m going to try to sit with other people at lunchtimes.”

I floated around and sat with other people, and it felt really awkward.  It’s difficult to be
subtle in a chair.   I was sure they were wondering what I was doing there.

Then I thought, “What the hell, I could be the worst house on the best street”, and I
“joined” the popular group. I’d go and sit with them, eat lunch and hang out, until this
mortifying incident one lunchtime.   The girls were all talking about how they wished
someone would go away. You know, “I wish she’d just f… off.”    As usual, I didn’t know
who they were talking about. I was just agreeing like always, nodding and smiling,
saying, “I know, oh yes, I know.” Eventually, yes, I realised they were talking about me.
So, I raised my chair up, and said, “I’m just going to go to the toilet,” and I went and I
cried.”

Tiffany Hall, Television Presenter, also interviewed in Fiona Scott Norman’s book.

“School stressed me out so much that I got glandular fever, which led to chronic fatigue
syndrome, and I had to take six or seven months off. That was year 9, the pivotal time
when you make your friends. Socially, I never recovered.

I never fitted in. A lot of the girls were really well off and stuck together. The dominant
thing was wealth and having the right things. One girl was bullied because her family
rented their BMW.

Sometimes, if I couldn’t deal with something, I’d clean. Mum would always yell at me
because I’d just empty a drawer into the bin, which would make me feel better, but
she’d have had important stuff in there. So, for my 12th birthday, I asked for cleaning
agents and some Ballerina cleaning cloths. When the girls came over for the sleepover,
I said, “Let’s all clean the house!” Three of them were like, “Seriously?” But one girl
helped – she’s still my friend today.

When I was 19, I had a party and invited all those uni kids. Mum made big beautiful
bowls of fantastic pasta and we’d bought a little bit of alcohol, and I sat there waiting
with my parents and they didn’t show. I haven’t had a party since. Uni, for me, was just
a disaster.”

Kendall Hill’s experiences

“Kendall Hill describes how he was a “nerd” at school: he wishes it was easier to be
“different”. He states, “if only it were easier to be different in this country. Back then our
education system – and, by extension, most teachers and students – rejected anything
unconventional”. Refer “Habitual cruelty: maybe the bullies get screwed up the most”,
The Age, 19/6/11).

When the TV series of Alex Haley’s slave epic Roots was first broadcast in Australia a few
decades ago, my high school tormenters had a brilliant idea. We could play Roots  at
school the next day.

“You can be Kunta Kinte!” my nemesis hooted, his eyes flashing evil mischief. “And the
rest of you can go home and make willow whips.”

Electric excitement rippled through the group. Me? I thought I might cry.

The episode sums up the hell of high school for me – falling into a poisonous group
that terrorised other students but, mostly, terrorised me. Soccer matches where I
became the ball, kicked around until I was coated in mud like a choc-dipped loser.
Threats hissed through clenched teeth to force two unwilling combatants, one of them
always me, to brawl at lunchtime for the school’s entertainment. Every student on
every bus chanting insults at me at home time.

And they say school days are the best of the your life.”

Linda Duberley recounts her despair at the fact that her son, Connor, was ruining his
life owing to his gaming addition. (See “My son was a cyber addict – hooked on fantasy
and sci-fi games” in The Age.) “For three years, Connor played truant, failed exams and
shut himself away from people to create a new personality in his electronic universe.”

Duberley recounts: “To me, the problem seemed to be school; Connor was truanting.
He was tired and stressed. So, I cut back my work as a media consultant to be around
more at home. But he found new ways to sneak home from school, only now he had to
be even more surreptitious to avoid me. Then, at a parents’ evenings, two of his
teachers were clearly surprised to see me – they thought that he had left the school.
That Christmas, his father took Connor’s younger brother and sister away so he and I
could be alone together and talk. I was optimistic. But shortly after that, on just the
second day of the new term, I found Connor hiding in the bathroom, having sneaked
back into the house. In fact, he turned up at home several times that week, once having
gone missing for so long that I called the police. That time, I eventually found him
hidden, wrapped up in a duvet inside a cupboard.”