My Grandfather was wise and the most respected man in
my life. He told many strange stories that never really made sense. He always said, “Someday you will understand the meaning behind my words, and they may not mean the same to you as another.” He made me think, and I credit him for my success. A proper father can make a difference.
The story I recalled this past week was:
This beautiful bluebird once had babies in
the early part of winter. The
chicks were warm and all bundled together in the nest. But one young chick was restless and wanted to
enter the world early. He
flapped, shook, and did everything he could but could not fly. He needed to be developed more. One day, he moved just enough to fall
out of the nest and dropped over 50 feet to the ground, which was cold from the
snow. He lay there freezing and
did not know what to do, so he kept chirping as loud as possible.
Soon, up came the huge bull. He looked at the bird and slowly positioned himself over the
bird. The bird thought he was
going to be crushed. Although the
bull did not step on him, he just pooped on him. The huge warm pile of poop saved the bird from
freezing. The Bird was disgusted by
the smell and being covered in poop and continued to make as much erratic noise
as he could. Then, up comes a
wolf. The wolf digs the bird out
of the poop and uses the snow to clean it up a little. Then, without hesitation, the wolf swallowed the bird and swallowed him whole.
I thought this was a bad story when he told me the
story when I was about 9 years old and several times afterward. I always thought the moral was to be
prepared for life. But this has been a very hard five weeks for me with excessive pain and the return of the infection, which really messes with my balance, and the headaches are excruciating. I have used all the mental power I have
to create the highest pain threshold I can to get through the day. At night, I have to wake to sit up every
few hours (or sleep sitting up), or the pain is worse. It appears the medicine has not helped.
I woke up at about 3:00 AM this morning, and my head was so bad. For some reason, I thought of the particular story from my grandfather, which is stated above. And I learned two new morals of
the story other than staying the next early. They are:
- The first thought was that in life, those people that throw shit on you are not always trying to hurt you (Cow shit kept the bird warm). In as much, those who pull you out of a jam are not always trying to help you (wolf cleaned the bird up for lunch).
- A second moral could be when you are up to your nose in shit, keep your mouth shut!
So I am not going to complain about the health issue to
loud.
And Grandpa, if you get to read blogs in heaven, you were gone before I really started to understand your stories, but I wouldn't be where I am today (the good parts) or who I am without you. You were the greatest and are missed, especially those stories that made no sense to me as a child.
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