A GIFT OF LOVE
"Can
I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled in
her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she
gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The
baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was
perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred. When he rushed home from
school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing
that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favourite with his fellow students,
he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent
for literature and music. "But you might mingle with other young
people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.
The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be
done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be
procured" the doctor decided. Whereupon the search began for a person who
would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by. Then, "You
are going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the
ears you need. But it's a secret" said the father.
The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents
blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.
Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must
know!" He urged his father. "Who gave so much for me? I could never
do enough for him."
"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the
agreement was that you are not to know...not yet." The years kept their
profound secret, but the day did come . . . one of the darkest days that ever
pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly,
tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown
hair to reveal . . . that the mother had no outer ears.
"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he
whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did
they"?
Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real
treasure lies not in what that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen. Real
love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not
known.
Author Unknown
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