Deformed Toes

A tree makes millions of matchsticks but only one matchstick is required to burn millions of trees. This is an old saying which came to my mind as I was going through a Mother Teresa story. The story goes on telling that her toes were slightly deformed. The toes were gnarled and pressed in the wrong direction. The reason however was neither congenital nor any accident. According to the full story, it was because she used the wrong shoes continuously for a long time. It was a pair, smaller in size, which she herself had chosen from a shipment of used shoes which she received for the poor. This amazing lady had decided that the one she wears should be the worst pair of all. Somehow, she had to press her feet into the pair of her choice and gradually the toes got deformed. It was similar individual matchsticks of love, offering and self-humiliation which she followed that later melted millions of hearts all over the world. 

Taking responsibility of those in reach is certainly the duty of each human. It is this attribute that actually differentiates a human from the animal world. I am reminded of an old story according to which a young man was riding on his horse through an unfamiliar road. Suddenly he realized that the horse he was riding on was dead for years. He was confused. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall that looked like fine marble. Standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like gold. He rode toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. Parched and tired out by his journey, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?” “This is Heaven, sir,” the man answered. “Wow! Would you kindly give us some water?”  the man asked. “Of course, sir. Come right in, but I'm sorry, we don't accept pets.” The man thought for a moment, then turned back to the road and continued riding. 

After another long ride, at the top of another hill, he came to a ranch gate that looked as if it had never been closed. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book. 'Excuse me,' he called to the man. “Do you have any water?” “Sure, Help yourself.” “How about my friend here?” the traveller gestured to his horse. “Of course! It looks thirsty, too,” said the man. They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was a hand pump with buckets beside it. When they were full, he walked back to the man who was still standing by the tree. “What do you call this place?” the traveller asked. “This is Heaven,” he answered. “That's confusing,” the man said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.” “Oh, you mean the place with the glitzy, gold street and fake pearly gates? That's hell.” “Doesn't it make you angry when they use your name like that?” “Not at all. Actually, we're happy they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.” The story clearly differentiates hell and heaven. It also tells us why we need only a few small heavens in this magnificent paradise.