Many years ago, a very wealthy nobleman took his son with him to tour his vast lands. Along the way, the son saw many of the nobleman's poor serfs. As night approached, and being far from home, they reached perhaps the poorest serf they had encountered. The man and wife looked bedraggled - their clothes were little more than rags, their small hovel run-down, and crowded by them and their three children. Cats and dogs ran in and out frequently, and the food was nothing more than fruits and vegetables -- there was no meat, no cheeses, no bread, and especially no wine. They drank water from a creek that ran out back of their hovel. They had no lighting at all in the house, save for a tiny fire in the fireplace, which served as heating and for cooking. Stars shone through the poorly thatched roof.

Upon returning home, the nobleman asked his son, "How was the trip?"

"Very good, Father," the son replied.

"And did you see how poor people live?"

"Yes."

"And what did you LEARN?" the nobleman asked smugly, as he looked out over his vast estate.

"I saw that we have no dog, yet animals ran freely through their house, bringing the children laughter as they played. I saw that we have a small pool in our garden for swimming and bathing, while they had an entire creek to splash in. I saw that we often drink wine -- which can be quite bitter at times, and never manages to truly quench my thirst, while they drink pure, crisp,refreshing water from their brook. I saw that we have static, smelly oil lamps for light and a smoky oil stove for heat, while they have a cheerful fire and infinite twinkling stars. We eat bland meat and strong cheeses and crusty bread, while they feast on the very fruits of their labors -- the vegetables were crisp and flavorful, and the fruits were sweet and filling. Our patio reaches only to the front yard, while they have the entire horizon at their disposal. Our clothes are hot, scratchy, and heavy. -- confining. Theirs are light, airy, and cool -- freeing. I see your brows often fraught with worry, while happiness overflowed their house."

As he finished, the nobleman just stood there, speechless.

The son then turned to his father and said, "Before the trip, I never realized how truly POOR we were..."

Note:

I have tried to find out the origins of this parable. Though a Google search of the moral comes up with about 13 million hits, most sites report the author as ANONYMOUS. If you know the originator of this parable, Please PM me. - Haylee V

OK, I'm a little late posting, but here's today's fable. It's one that reflects my Lakota roots. Enjoy. - Haylee V

The Brave and the Rattlesnake

One day, a Lakota brave went up a mountain into the timberlines to gather wood for the fire. While he was busy gathering the wood, he happened upon a rattlesnake, shivering in the cold.

"Brother brave," the snake said, pleading, "Please help me. I am freezing up here, and if I stay much longer, I shall surely die."

"I cannot, Brother Snake. For you are a trickster, and might bite me on the way down."

"I won't!" he pleaded. "Please! You CAN'T let me die up here."

The brave continued to deny the snake's requests, but his resistance was failing. He couldn't stand to see any of the Great Spirit's creatures suffering, even a snake. Finally, he gave in.

Picking up the snake gently, he placed the nearly frozen reptile in his wood basket and covered him with a blanket.

"Promise me, though that you won't harm me."

"I promise, young brave."

Slowly, they made their descent down the mountain. Just as they were on the outskirts of the village, the brave felt a sharp pain in his thigh.

"But you PROMISED!" the brave cried in agony, as the venom coursed through his body. The brave knew that soon, he would breathe his last.

"Such is my nature, young brave. You KNEW what I was when you picked me up. Only a fool WILLINGLY subjects himself to imminent danger."

Note:

This story was told to me during the Yap Ye Iswa festival (Day of the Catawba) in Rock Hill, SC, in 2006. That rendition used either a Water Moccasin or Copperhead (depending on the elder telling the story), as both of those vipers are quite prevalent in the Upper Piedmont region of the Carolinas. This version is from the Lakota, as I attended a Pow Wow in the summer of 2008 of the First Tribes. The origins of this story date to antiquity, and it has been passed on by word of mouth ever since. Aesop also had a (modified) version of it in his fables, although the story itself predates even him.

* Edit *

11-June-2017: I have found this fable, albeit in a modified form, in a book titled The AEsop for Children on the Library of Congress's website. Here is the link to that story. Apparently, this is the earliest known record of the tale. -- Haylee V

I heard a story the other day, and I thought I'd share it with everyone. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it may have come from an old Ann Landers column or something...

The Difference Between Heaven And Hell

A devout man went to sleep one night, and dreamed that he was face to face with God.

"God," he said, "I have a question. I've always heard about Heaven and Hell -- how one is a divine Paradise, and the other pure Evil. But I never FULLY understood either of them. They were never REAL to me. Can You explain them so that I can FINALLY understand?"

"Dear Child," God replied, "that is a simple matter. Follow me, and I will SHOW you the answer."

God led him to a room sealed by a huge door. He opened the door, and the man could smell a rich, appetizing stew simmering. He saw a myriad of people standing around the pot, all with wooden spoons in their hands. They were emaciated and saddened, as the handles of the spoons were much too long for them to reach their mouths, and the stew would spill on the floor whenever someone would try to feed himself.

God explained to me that this was Hell.

He then took me to another room. Same pot of stew, same spoon, same myriad of people. Only they were beaming and happy. Each looked VERY well-fed and content.

"This is Heaven," God said.

"But I don't understand. Everything in both rooms is identical, yet these people are happy and well-fed. Why?"

"Because, My Child," God explained, "They have learned to feed one another."

Isn't that our quest as well? Feed those that cannot feed themselves -- physically, emotionally, financially, or spiritually.

Be blessed, everyone. *Kisses Always*
Haylee V

Once upon a time, two Buddhist monks were walking along after a horrendous thunderstorm, marveling at how nature could be, in one instance, so tranquil and beautiful, yet in another, so violent and devastating. As they were walking along the path, they soon saw the wood bridge spanning a fjord had been washed away, leaving little way to cross the stream except to wade in the swiftly-moving water. As they were removing their sandals to do so, they noticed a young woman, heavy with child, struggling to ford the raging current.

Now, being devout monks, they knew that touching a pregnant woman was taboo, and would amount, essentially, to breaking their sacred vows, requiring intense cleansing to rectify. The elder monk just shook his head sadly and waded on, knowing there was little he could do and still remain chaste.

The younger one, however, took pity on the woman. Being full of compassion, he bent down, and gently put the woman firmly on his shoulders and helped her across, setting her down on a grassy knoll on the other side. He then went back and got her things as well. He then went about his way, quickly catching up with his fellow monk.

They walked along in silence until dusk, when they finally reached their monastery. Upon entering, the elder monk could remain silent no longer, and chided his brother monk.

"Why did you help that woman, knowing it was taboo?"

The younger monk contemplated for a few minutes in silence before giving his answer.

"Dear brother," he replied, "I left that woman on the grassy knoll on the other side of the stream. Why are YOU still carrying her?"

This was originally told to me in a Religion 102 - Eastern Religions class in college, and it's originator is listed online as Anonymous. If any reader knows the author, please PM me. -- Haylee V

Just a Bum
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, a wealthy and respected king, eager to learn if the loyalty and compassion shown him was genuine, or just out of fear for his position, decided to test his subjects.

This king was known far and wide for his handsome baby face and regal bearing. I must do something to disguise my appearance, he thought, lest I be discovered and my plans ruined.

The king advised his grand vizier that he would be taking a lengthy journey, and that the vizier should rule until he returns. The vizier, however, had plans of his own, and wished to usurp the throne. This is the PERFECT opportunity! he thought.

The king then prepared for his journey, locking everything of value in his vault -- save for one thing -- the royal sigil, with which he could prove his identity, as well as his right to the throne.

Donning a set of peasant clothes and an old nag, the king silently sneaked out of the castle that evening, leaving a notice of his departure on the vizier's door.

The king rode his nag for several days over the open countryside, stopping only to eat and resting at dark. After a week, he was about two hundred leagues from the castle -- far enough to enact his plans. Since he hadn't shaved, the beard growth hid most of his fine features. He then took his hunting knife and ripped his tunic and breeches, giving them what he hoped was a well-worn appearance. He then sent the old nag back to the castle, knowing she would eventually find her way back.

Everything was set. The king appeared, to all appearances, to be nothing but a wandering vagrant. He slowly made the trek back to the kingdom, taking great care to keep his signet ring well hidden.

A fortnight later found the weary king back at the gates of the city, where he sought refuge amongst the town's peasantry. He was allowed entry into the city, but unfortunately could find no quarter, and ended up sleeping in an open field. Having no money, no job, and no residence made the king even lower than a serf in the eyes of many of the townspeople.

"He's just a bum," some would say, as they turned corners to avoid the vagabond.

"Careful. Who knows what that vagrant's capable of," said others.

Finally, hungry, cold, and completely exhausted, the king came to the hovel of a poor, but honest farmer and his wife.

"Come," the kind farmer said. "No one needs to be out in the cold. We haven't much, but you can make yourself a straw pallet by the fire. The stew on the hearth may look thin, but my wife has ways of making even that filling. Please help yourself. She can make it stretch. And have a draught from the cistern as well. It may be only water, but you'll not find a more refreshing beverage anywhere else in the kingdom."

The king thanked the kindly couple for their hospitality. To think, he thought silently. They have almost nothing, and don't know me from Adam, yet they gave me so much. Such compassion is very rare among my subjects.

The king ate and drank his fill, then turned to leave. He casually let his ring shine in the hovel's dim light, then smiled as he left. "Your kindness will not be forgotten," he whispered.

Now fully rested, the king made his way back into the castle, imploring the guards to grant an audience with the vizier.

"Out of the way, mangy cur!" the guards commanded. "No one may see the Grand Vizier save the king himself."

With that, the king raised his signet. "It is I. Have no fear, but DO NOT tell him who seeks him."

The guards nodded, then opened the door to the throne room . Bowing, they quickly resumed their posts.

The vizier was seated on the king's throne, being fed grapes by a concubine.

"WHO ARE YOU, DOG?" the vizier bellowed, "To come before the Almighty Grand Vizier?"

"It is I," the king stated flatly, flashing his ring. "I have returned to take back what is RIGHTFULLY mine. Step down."

"YOU LIE, THIEF!" the vizier roared, reaching for his scimitar. "But even if you ARE the king, the throne -- and this kingdom -- belongs to ME now. Today, you'll breathe your last."

Swiftly grabbing a sword from one of the suits of armor lying nearby, the king set to defend himself against the treasonous vizier. The vizier was no match for the king's prowess, and quickly fell before his blade, dead.

"Such is the fate of all who would usurp the throne," the king stated before calling his guards. They quickly came and hauled the dead body away.

"Now, just who is WORTHY enough to take his place?" the king asked, rhetorically.

"Summon the farmer and his wife to me, IMMEDIATELY!"

"As you command, Sire."

"Have them brought to me in an hour. I must go and make myself presentable. Traveling can do DREADFUL things to one's appearance."

The king motioned for the concubine, who had been watching close by -- wide-eyed -- to attend to his needs. Before long, she had him once again looking his regal, baby-faced self.

The farmer and his wife were brought before the king. Both quickly prostrated themselves, terrified by the summons.

"Arise, my friends," the king called out jovially. "And NEVER let me see you bow before me again. There is no need, for you both are more REGAL than I shall ever be. You showed me compassion when you didn't even know me. Such compassion is rare. You treated me not as a stranger, but as a dear friend. You have earned my respect and undying gratitude, and -- if you'll accept it -- a position of honor by my side."

The farmer and his wife were dumbfounded, as they rose, only to find the king get up from his throne, walk to them, and KNEEL before them. They gladly accepted their new positions, and lived in peace the remainder of their days.

Moral:

One should NEVER judge another by outward appearances.

Treat everyone you meet BETTER than you treat yourself, for you never know when you may entertain an ANGEL unaware.

OK, Gentle Readers, here's today's fable for your enjoyment.

True Riches
(c) 2017 Haylee V

One day, a farmer went to the convenience store to feed his one vice -- gambling. He knew that the odds were against him ever hitting it big, but he indulged himself once a week, allowing himself to purchase a single $1 lottery ticket. He had never won, but got joy just the same by the anticipation.

His wife, however, saw this as a needless expense.

"Why waste money on something so frivolous, anyway? You could be saving for a bigger house, a newer car, or even some finer clothes for me. I have NOTHING!" she whined incessantly.

The farmer just smiled and took it in stride.

"One day yet we may have all the finer things in life. Just wait and see..."

The next evening, as was his custom, the farmer went out to buy his ticket. When he returned home, however, his wife was in an even fouler mood than usual.

"You're late!" she bellowed. "I had to eat alone. AGAIN. Your supper's in the stove, ruined. I fell asleep waiting for you, and forgot I had left the stove on, until I smelled the smoke."

"No worries," the farmer smiled. "Missing one meal won't kill me, I guess."

The next evening, the farmer was watching the drawing. He had his ticket in hand as they drew the numbers. Imagine his surprise when he found out he had won! Twenty-six million dollars. He and his wife were set.

The next morning, the farmer started up his old, dilapidated pickup, and helped his wife in. The journey was rough, as the truck had very little padding, and rattled and clanked like it was in its death knell. Finally, they arrived at the lottery office and gathered the check. Photos were taken, and the usual rigamarole ensued. At the end of the day, the pair returned home, beaten, but bearing the $26 million dollar deposit slip.

A few days later, the farmer was visiting his friend in the next town over, when a cyclone hit, destroying everything his friend owned.

"Don't worry, friend. I still have my lottery winnings. I'll help you rebuild. That's what friends are for."

He quickly wrote his friend out a check -- for a million dollars. "This will get everything rebuilt," he said, "and afford you enough to survive until you get back on your feet. Besides, I still have twenty-five million left, so no worries."

Upon finding out what he'd done, his wife was LIVID! "We could have brought our OWN house with that. Yet you just threw away a million of OUR winnings. I'm going to bed. YOU... you can sleep with the dog tonight."

The next day, the farmer visited his fishing buddy. Unfortunately, as they were talking, a hurricane blew in, destroying the friend's entire fleet.

"No worries," the farmer said again, reaching for his checkbook. "Will five million help get you back on your feet?"

Upon hearing this, the wife was even angrier than before. "Think of the luxuries we could have had. I could have cruised around the world for a year! How can you be so wasteful? Tonight, not only do you sleep with the dog, but you also go hungry. GOOD NIGHT!"

A week later, the farmer was visiting his friend who owned the best hotel in the land. As they were sitting at a nearby bistro having lunch, the hotelier watched in horror as the building caught fire. Fortunately, everyone was evacuated safely, but the hotel lay in shambles, burnt completely to the ground.

"I'll never be able to rebuild," cried his friend. "It cost me about twenty million the first time. I simply don't have that much..."

The farmer reached over and handed his friend a check -- the last of his fortune.

When he arrived home, penniless, he tried to explain things to his wife, but she simply wouldn't hear of it.

"You had a FORTUNE just two weeks ago, yet now you're penniless. You're a worthless excuse for a man, and I don't need you. Take your things, and GET OUT of my life. We're THROUGH!"

For the first time in his life, the farmer actually cried. He had lost it all -- his fortune, his farm, and his wife. He had nothing left in this world. Sadly, he turned, and began to head for town, his head hung low.

As he reached town, he realized just how hungry he was. He walked into the local diner, begging for just a crust of day-old bread. His farmer friend overheard, and took pity on him..

"Come home with me, my friend. We're still rebuilding, mind you, but one more mouth to feed won't make much difference to my wife. After all, it's the least we can do."

The next morning, the farmer awoke to breakfast in a warm, soft bed. As he looked around, he realized that he wasn't on his friend's farm.

"Welcome," the hotelier said, amicably. "I know the room's a bit small, but you can stay here until we get rebuilt. It's the least I can do..."

The farmer thanked his friend, tears in his eyes. Yet something was still missing. He decided to take a walk on the pier. Maybe, he thought, the fisherman can tell me what's lacking. After all, he IS the most worldly of my friends.

Unfortunately, the fisherman was out to sea. His daughter, however, greeted him cordially.

"I don't know how to ever thank you," she gushed. "For years now, it's been just me and Dad. After the storm, I thought we'd be lost -- separated forever. My only option was to marry the rich banker -- a man I didn't trust, and liked even less. You gave us hope."

"Yes, but what does that matter now? My wife has left me, and I feel so... alone."

"You're not. I've always loved you, and if you'll have me..."

The farmer and the fisherman's daughter were wed the next month. Nearly everyone in town came to the wedding -- except the ex-wife and the banker, who had secretly been having an affair for years. The farmer now knew true happiness. He had friends that cared, a nice place to stay, plenty of food to eat, and the unending love of his new bride.

True, the wife now had the fancy house and cars, the clothes, and all of life's finer things -- until her new lover was arrested for embezzlement and racketeering. As she watched everything being taken away by the Feds, she began to cry. She turned to her "social circle", but, as she was now poor, and had a felon as a lover, she was no longer "worthy". She didn't want to go back to her ex-husband, who, in her mind, was still worthless. Having nothing further to lose, she slipped off in the night. The next morning, the coroner found her, dangling alone from a tall, gnarled maple far away from town.

Moral:

Being rich is not about how much money one has, but about the GOOD one can do with it.

Always strive to do good in everything you do, and happiness will follow you wherever you go.

I was reading my messages today, and was surprised (and very pleased) to find a message there from someone who is having a rough time of it right now. This parable is dedicated to her.

The Cog
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, a famous artisan in Bavaria was building a cuckoo clock for the Baron. Being an horologist gave him a great sense of pride. The work was laborious, as each tiny piece had to be meticulously placed by hand to make the clock function and the birds chime.

After toiling for sixteen hours a day for over a month, the finally felt his work fit to present the Baron. Wrapping the clock carefully, he placed it into a crate and loaded it in his carriage to deliver to the Baron the next day.

Upon receiving the clock, the Baron was thrilled. The clock kept perfect time, and the bird's harmonious trills brought the Baron great joy for many happy months.

Happy, that is, until the Baron's niece accidentally knocked the clock off of his mantle while the Baron was away, dislodging a very tiny cog in the process. The niece quickly placed the clock back on the mantle, hoping no one would notice.

Since the staff rarely entered the Baron's chambers except to dust, and none had ever entered on the hour, no one noticed the bird no longer sang, as other than that, the clock still kept perfect time. All was well.

After about three months, the Baron returned from his journey, albeit distraught. His business meetings had gone alright, but had not produced the results the wealthy Baron was expecting.

Perhaps my cuckoo will sing for me, the Baron thought. Its sweet trills always eases my stress.

But alas! without the missing cog, the bird remained silent.

"Summon Herr Uhrmacher at once!" he commanded. "Only he can make my bird sing again!"

The clocksmith came without delay, and quickly assessed the problem. Unscrewing the back carefully, he replaced the missing cog.

As he set the clock upon the mantle once more, the cuckoo sang out, even sweeter than before. The Baron was overjoyed, and rushed to reward the weary clocksmith. Once again, peace reigned, and did so for as long as the clockmaker survived.

Moral:

No matter how small or insignificant we feel we are, we are all part of something much greater than ourselves.

Lest we forget, the loss of even the smallest cog can cause the entire machine to stop.
We are the cogs, and the world is our clock. Working together, we can become a thing of beauty.

* Hope you all enjoyed this. Kisses! *
Haylee V

A Little Goes A Long Way
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, a poor baker decided to bake a loaf of bread. He gathered all of his ingredients, and set about making the dough.
After kneading and proofing it, he set the dough aside to rise in the afternoon sun, being mindful to pinch off a tiny bit and store it in a jar in his cupboard, for later use.

"Why do you ALWAYS do that, Father?" his son asked one day.

"I need to replenish my starter, Son," the baker replied. "So I take a tiny part of each loaf, and let it sit in the jar for the next day's baking. Without it, the bread will not rise."

With that, the son's mind was placated, and he went back to his chores.

After a while, the baker set about making the loaves for the day. He rolled out the 12 loaves he needed, and then rolled out two smaller loaves - for himself and his son. After placing all the loaves on to bake, the son noticed a very tiny loaf had also been placed in the fire, along with the others. The loaf would not have fed even the smallest of children, and was little more than a mouthful.

"Why do you always make a tiny loaf with the scraps, Father, instead of adding it to your jar?"

"We have enough for the proofing already, Son. It takes very little, and too much will cause the entire batch to be worthless. Thus, I always cook the excess into a charity loaf, for the Abbot or the Nuns. Someone can ALWAYS benefit that way, and nothing goes to waste."

The child thought on this as well before he continued his playing.

One day, the baker went out, leaving the son to make the daily loaves. The son divided the dough as always, but thought to himself, If I use all the dough, I can make us each a bigger loaf, and we can feast tonight. It's such a tiny thing, anyway. Surely it won't really matter if I don't set aside something for the proof jar or the charity loaf.

The son made the loaves and set them to cook, and then went to play as usual. Unfortunately, he forgot all about the bread, and all the loaves burned beyond repair. There would be nothing to sell today, nor would there be a grand feast. The child's heart was broken.

When the baker returned at the end of the day, he was disappointed, but not crestfallen. He knew that they would get by, somehow.

"I'm sorry, Father," the son said meekly. "But now what will we do?"

"We will go to the Church and pray, Son. Things will work out."

So they left their hovel -- the baker with a wise, knowing smile, and the son looking defeated. When they arrived at the abbey, the abbot shook hands warmly with the baker. After explaining the situation, the abbot gave the child a warm smile and a knowing wink. He handed the baker a wrapped basket and a small pouch, and gave him a blessing before sending the pair on their way.

When they returned home, the child's curiosity finally got the better of him. As his father laid the basket and pouch on the table, the child sneaked a peek into the basket. Inside, he found two fresh loaves of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a small bottle of wine. Inside the pouch were 10 gold crowns -- enough to cover their expenses for a week -- and a tiny jar of starter.

The boy then turned to his father, confused.

"Aah, my Son! You have discovered my secret. Each day, when I take my charity loaf to the abbot, I also give him a jar of starter, so the Nuns can make bread for the needy. They also sell the loaf I bring them to help run the abbey. That's how the abbot was able to help us today."

Moral:

A small gesture, when multiplied by many hands, can blossom into a veritable bounty.

Charity need not be anything grandiose. Even a small gift, given with love, can work wonders.
The same can be said of evil deeds and gossip. It only takes a tiny fragment to ruin someone's life or reputation.

The Hen and the Hawk
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, a beautiful, but somewhat misguided hen lived on a farm. She spent her days doing what most hens do -- scratching the ground for seeds and worms, preening her feathers, or laying eggs. She had a relatively good life -- safe and easy.

Unfortunately, though, she wasn't happy. She would often gaze longingly at the sky and watch the wild fowl fly overhead in absolute freedom -- a freedom she yearned for with every fiber of her being.

One day, as she was preening her feathers, she glanced over her shoulder and beheld a most beautiful hawk.

"Come with me," he said, "And I will teach you to soar the heavens."

She knew, deep down, that chickens couldn't fly, and the hawk was selling her little more than a pipe dream, but she still had the burning desire buried deep within. At first, it was easy for her to resist the hawk's charms -- just a matter of plain old common sense -- but the longer the two talked, the deeper her passion to be free became.

Eventually, she found herself looking for a means of escape, so she could learn to soar with the hawk.

A few days later, in an attempt to beat an oncoming storm, the farmer carelessly left the gate to the hen's pen unlatched as he was feeding them their corn.

Seizing the opportunity, the hen bolted, right into the waiting arms of her hawk lover.

"Can you REALLY help me soar?" she asked.

"Surely. Just follow me."

The hen, by now completely smitten with her ersatz Lothario, followed the hawk to a high cliff.

"All you need to do is to jump off," he said, "And flap those gorgeous wings. Don't worry about anything else. I'll join you once you're in flight."

With the words of encouragement, the hen made her leap. She flapped like crazy, but could not stay aloft. She fell to the ground with a sickening thud, breaking her neck.

The cunning hawk just laughed. "Looks like chicken stew for dinner tonight...".

Moral:

We are defined by the company we keep.

Nothing can ruin a good person quicker than falling in with the wrong crowd.

A Duck's Dream
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, a mallard lived on a vast farm. The farmer spared no expense to ensure the happiness of his animals -- there was always plenty of seeds and grain, fresh water, a nice pond to swim in, and a comfortable, heated hutch to sleep in at night. But still, something was missing. Although the drake seemingly had all of the creature comforts the farmer could afford him, he knew he was little more than a prisoner in a cage. What the duck desired more than anything else was to be like his wild cousins -- FREE. Free to fly high into the sky -- to soar on gossamer wings to places yet unseen.

"You're a domestic duck," his friends would say. "Your wings are too weak to make the flight to the Southern Lands. Think of how good you have it here on the farm. The children ADORE you, and come daily to feed you crusts of bread. You have a warm place to sleep, and plenty of clean water to drink. You have a life of relative ease. Don't do anything foolish to jeopardize what you have."

But the duck would not be swayed. One day soon, he knew he would get his freedom.

About a week later, some local students came to the farm on a field trip. While they all oohed and aahed over the ducks, one student happened to unlatch the pen. The duck saw his opportunity and took it. Before the farmer could catch him, he had taken high in the sky, far away from the safe world he had known.

The duck flew for hours. With no plans, he soon found himself horribly lost. As night was falling, he managed to find a small pond to bed down in for the night.

The pond's waters were brackish, and a thick skin of algae covered the surface. Few insects came around the pond, and those that did were quickly caught and eaten by the bullfrogs. The water was foul, and unfit for the duck to drink. The duck found himself alone, hungry, thirsty, and tired. It was only then that the reality of Rule One took hold: In the wild, there is no fresh, clear water. No children with smiling faces feed you corn and bread. In the wild, it's every duck for himself, and you either adapt or go hungry.

His belly empty, the duck tried in vain to find a warm spot to bed down. Unfortunately, the squirrels, badgers, and bullfrogs had already taken possession of the choicest spots, so all the duck could do was catnap on a rotted log. Rule Two of survival in the wild: There are no cushy heated hutches. To survive, one must be willing to sacrifice comfort for concealment.

Unfortunately, the poor duck got very little sleep that night, as he was constantly shivering with cold, and his empty belly ferociously reminded him of the soft bread of home.

As dawn was breaking, the duck heard familiar voices coming from the underbrush. Men!, thought the duck. I'm saved. Surely one of them must have a crust of bread!

With renewed enthusiasm, the mallard began to quack quite loudly. As long as they can hear and find me, I stand a chance at a full belly.

One of the men quickly found the duck, and steadied his rifle. A flash of light tore through the sky, and the duck smelled the unmistakable odor of sulfur. Too late, he realized Rule Three of Survival: The hunter always gets his prey in the end.

Moral:

The amenities others are afforded often look the most appealing to us once we start taking the luxuries we have for granted.

The grass MAY LOOK greener on the other side of the fence, but it's also probably loaded with herbicides, pesticides, and other chemicals...

Mapiya Woksape Creates the Moon
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Many millennia ago, when the Earth was still young, a brave scout decided he would catch a rainbow. Few of the elders knew how or why they were made, or if they could even be captured. No one in Ahiyu Wigmuke's village had ever heard an idea so foolish -- or foolhardy.

"If Wakantanka had wanted us to catch the sky, He would have given us all eagle wings. Put away this dream, and focus on the harvests. Winter is fast approaching."

But Ahiyu would not be swayed. He WOULD capture the rainbow, and weave its colors into the tapestry of his life no matter what the cost.

"If you INSIST on this foolishness," his mother advised, then go see Mapiya Woksape, for she, alone has ever touched the clouds. If anyone can help you in this quest, she can. But be sure to bring her a worthy gift, lest ill fortune befall you."

I must bring Grandmother Woksape a worthy gift, if I am going to request her help, he thought.

Ahiyu searched the areas surrounding the village for a week, but could find nothing suitable to give her. Perhaps it will not matter, he thought in desperation. And I must begin my journey TODAY, or I might not get another chance.

Ahiyu grabbed the basket that his mother had prepared for him. Fortunately, she had made pemmican the day before, as well as a few loaves of fresh bread. This should stave off my hunger, if I ration it correctly.

Ahiyu thanked his mother and set out at once to find the shaman. He knew his task would not be easy, as she had alienated herself on the tallest mountain in the Black Sands many years ago to live the life of a hermit.
=== === ===
At first, the trail sloped gently westward across the Prairie. Ahiyu covered much ground during this time, reaching the base of the mountain after just three days of light travel. But he knew his quest had just begun. Winter was beginning to set in, and the night air brought the Arctic's chill with it. He had to find a cave for shelter before nightfall...

Ahiyu began his perilous climb up the mountain after lunch. Fortunately, the sun was still high in the sky, and the trail, at least below the timberline, was well traveled.

As dusk was approaching, Ahiyu spotted a small outcropping just off of the trail about 100 feet. It appeared well used, so Ahiyu set his pack inside and began to gather wood for a fire.

After gathering the wood, Ahiyu headed back to the rocky overhang and pitched his small tipi, then set to build a small fire -- just enough to heat his meager rations. His sina was quite warm, and he would need no fire tonight, as the animals were all hibernating, and therefore posed no danger.

That night, Ahiyu dreamed strange and fantastic dreams -- dreams of Wakantanka, of clouds, and of rainbows. he saw the shimmering lights flow into his wicker basket, and felt the warm sun shine upon him.
=== === ===
The next morning, Ahiyu awoke to find the sun quite high in the sky. He quickly repacked his gear and began his trek up the mountain once again. After about two hours of traversing the rocky trail, his feet were quite sore. His moccasins did little to prevent the jagged rocks from tearing into the soft flesh of his heels. He was now way above the timberline, looking at clouds below him. About 500 feet above, he could make out a thin tuft of smoke from what appeared to be a makeshift lean-to. He had arrived!

Almost tripping several times in his haste, Ahiyu rushed to the smoking shack. He saw a white-haired old crone idly tending a fire, and singing to herself. Ahiyu knew the words well -- it was one of his favorite lullabies.

"Hau, Kasai!" Ahiyu greeted the wise crone.

"I know why you are here, young one. I also know you bear no gift. Do you expect my help for free?"

"I have but three days rations and some pemmican. Nothing more."

"Then how will you pay?"

"I'll give you anything, if I can but capture the rainbow, Honored One."

"Anything? Even your very soul?"

"Yes. Anything. I must weave the rainbow. No price is too great."

"So be it. Come.. Empty your basket and hand it to me now."

Ahiyu promptly did as he was ordered, and when the wicker basket was completely empty, he handed it to the crone.

She threw it into the cauldron, then began chanting in a language long since lost to Ahiyu. He tried to listen, but found himself drifting off to sleep.
=== === ===
The next morning he awoke to find himself on a sheer cliff, overlooking the vastness of the Earth. This MUST be magic, he thought, for no mountain can be this high.

In his hand was his basket -- only it had been somehow magically transformed to SOLID GOLD!

All around him, Ahiyu saw rainbows, resplendent in their beauty.

Take your rope and tie it to the basket's handle. Then cast your basket, and you will have your rainbow, said the familiar voice of the crone.

Doing as he was instructed, Ahiyu quickly pitched his basket over the cliff's steep side. Unfortunately, the rope wasn't secured well enough, and he felt the basket slipping out of his grasp. Thinking quickly, Ahiyu dove for the basket and caught it -- just as it was going over the cliff.

Ahiyu gazed at the rainbow in his basket for a moment, relishing its radiant beauty, before the gravity of his situation beset him. He felt the wind rushing through his hair, and knew that soon, he would meet his end on the jagged rocks far below.

The crone found the body the next morning, cold as stone. She picked up the basket lying beside Ahiyu, and took the captured rainbow out. Chanting softly, she wove the light into a thin cord, and wrapped it around Ahiyu's lifeless body, making sure it was securely fastened. She then made a lasso out of the remainder, and caught the passing sun. Immediately, the lifeless corpse sprang to life.

It's now time to pay, young brave. You will now forever chase the Sun, never to catch her -- never to feel her warming rays again. But don't fear! For you will lighten her dark shadows from this day forward...

Moral:

He who chases rainbows loses the sun.

Many people grasp daily for the unobtainable -- fame, wealth, or popularity -- only to lose what they already have -- strength of character, sense of worth, and compassion for others -- as a result.

The Crow and the Dove
(c) 2017 Haylee V

One day, a dove was flying in unfamiliar skies and became lost. Seeking help, he landed and began walking to a nearby town.

Now, in this town lived a very old, but very wise crow. Unlike most crows, this one was extremely kind, and known for both his generosity and good deeds. Everywhere in the town he went, he was treated with the utmost respect, and he gave far more than he received. When asked why he wasn't like the other crows -- usually harbingers of strife, discord, and ill fortune, he simply replied, "Someone in my youth was kind to me. When I hungered, they fed me. When I was injured by a hunter's bow, they nursed me back to help. If someone could show that level of compassion to me, just a lowly crow, should I not go and do the same to others?"

The dove walked into the town just before dusk, tired and hungry. He was full of pride, and knew he could get what he needed by merely taking what he wanted. After all, everyone knows that doves brought joy, happiness, and good fortune. No one in their right mind would deny a dove's requests. Or so he thought.

So the dove began to strut his stuff, and just took anything he wanted, without regard for anyone else. After all, he was a dove...

Eventually, word of his actions got to the town constable. Something MUST be done about the rogue dove, the townspeople cried.

So the town appointed the crow to be sheriff. "You must go and apprehend the dove," they said, "and make him pay for his crimes."

The crow set about his task, but was deeply saddened by it. How could someone so beautiful -- a harbinger of peace -- be so inherently wicked? he thought.

Before long, though, the crow caught up to the dove, who was once again up to his evil ways.

"You must stop this," the crow admonished.

"Why should I?" the dove replied. "I am a DOVE, after all. I should just be able to take anything I want. Everyone knows doves bring peace and happiness. So what if I'm looking out for myself first?"

"Then I'm afraid I must arrest you, for you are breaking the laws of our land, and bringing evil to our people."

With that, the crow captured the dove and locked him up in the town's jail. Peace once again returned to the town.

Moral:

It takes more than fine feathers to make a fine bird.

So many people rely on word of mouth, and let their reputations preclude their deeds. A truly wise person will never just rest on his laurels, but will daily strive to make new ones in his wake, letting his ACTIONS define him rather than simple word of mouth.

Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, a rich nobleman had two fine sons, whom he was grooming to take over the family business. The elder son proved to be a shrewd businessman, tough on his customers, but quick to make a profit, sometimes overcharging his customers for their needs or using otherwise shady tactics. Anything for a quick buck seemed to be his credo.

The younger son, however, lacked the business acumen of his older sibling, and often allowed clients leniency with their payments on their loans, and tried to work with them to help them get their loans repaid in a timely manner. He charged a small amount of interest, and sometimes would waive the fees entirely. Although loved by his customers, he often times barely managed to show a profit.

The dichotomy of his sons actions worried the nobleman greatly. How could he assure his business would remain after he retired, when neither son could decide how to properly run it?

The nobleman decided to test his sons, to see which method was the most profitable, and who would, ultimately, inherit the business. Dressing as a poor peasant, the nobleman first went to the elder brother for a loan.
=== === ===
"What can you offer me as collateral on your loan?" the son asked.

"All I have is my hovel, my farm, and a cow, Sire," stated the disguised nobleman.

"And how big is the farm? How much grain can you harvest?"

"The farm is small, my Lord -- only two acres -- but it can produce about 30 bushels per harvest, in a good year."

"And how big is the hovel?"

"It has three rooms, Sire -- the sleeping chamber, the cooking chamber, and the bathing chamber."

"And how much milk does the cow give?"

"She gives 6 gallons a day, Sire. Two gallons each milking."

"So, if I calculate correctly, your house is worth about three thousand crowns, your harvest worth 300, and you can get about 3 crowns a day from milk. That's not very much to work with. If you're willing to sign it ALL over to the bank, I will loan you 500 crowns, payable in one year's time, with 50 crowns in interest. That's the best I can do."

"So be it," he said.

As he left, he overheard a customer crying.

"I was just two days late with a payment -- my last. My wife got sick and I lost her. Now, the bank is taking everything else. I have nothing now, and no reason to live. How can a man be so cruel and heartless? He would not bend in the slightest..."
=== === ===
The nobleman then went to the younger brother. Same story, same assets.

"How much can you AFFORD to put up for collateral," the son asked.

"I need a gallon of milk and a bushel of wheat to make ends meet, Sire."

"I will give you a 1,000 crown loan. Will you be able to pay me 25 crowns a month for 42 months?"

"I can, Sire."

As the nobleman was leaving this time, however, he overheard an overjoyed customer tell his friend, "I don't know what I'd do without this bank. He worked with me, and even forgave the fact I was late. He said he trusted me, and to just make a payment when things got better. Yep, this is my THIRD loan with the bank, but the first time I've ever had a problem repaying my debt. He was so kind to me, that I hope I can return his favor some day."
=== === ===
The nobleman took these words to heart. The next day, he called his sons into his inner chamber.

"I have seen how you each do business, and have made a decision."

"But when did you come in, Father?" they questioned. "For surely your presence wasn't announced."

"Aye, my sons. I hid my appearance. For I was the peasant you each greeted yesterday. I saw how you, John, took advantage of your customers, and lacked compassion, and how Eric tried to comfort his customers in their time of need. I'd rather have a customer who does repeat business, even if he should occasionally fall behind, than one who has nothing but evil things to say about my bank. Therefore, I'm giving the business over to Eric. Run it well, my son."

Moral:

A man will only receive back as much as he's willing to give out.

As my father always said, "Treat a man well, and he'll always remember you. Treat him poorly, and he'll never forget you."

The Hoarder
(c) 2017 Haylee V

One day, in the tiny hamlet of Pine Grove, lived an eccentric junk collector named Thomas. being a junk collector, he was quite poor, and survived by living off the discarded trinkets and baubles of the more well-to-do.

"Why do you collect such junk?" the townsfolk would often ask. "It's completely worthless to anybody. You should find a real job, like helping the farmer or the miller. At least then, you'd be assured of your next meal."

"I do alright," Thomas would always say dismissively. "I have enough to eat, and a little in the bank for rough times."

One day, Thomas was out walking with a friend. As they passed the stables, Thomas noticed a discarded tack, containing a nice length of rope.

I could use that rope, thought Thomas, happily.

So he excused himself for a moment to talk with the livery owner for a moment.

"Sure, you can have the tack. It's useless to me anyway. Take any of it you need."

Thomas thanked the livery owner and gathered the rope, coiling it around his shoulder. "You never know...," he said.

His friend just shook his head, and they continued walking.

Soon, they came to the potter. He was just taking some pottery out of his kiln as they walked up.

"This will never do!" the potter cried, reaching for a malformed bowl, to smash it. "It is too deep to use as a bowl, yet not deep enough to be a cistern for holding water. I have no use for it!"

"Wait!" Thomas cried. "If you're just going to destroy it, may I have it instead?"

"Sure!" the potter said, happy that no one else would see his failure.

Again, his friend just shook his head, sadly, as Thomas added another "worthless" item to his pack.

As they continued on, they ran into the baker, carrying a sack of what appeared to be scorched loaves.

"May I have one?" Thomas asked.

"Aye, laddie, you may, if you wish. But they nae be fit for eatin'."

"It's OK," he said, adding it to his pack.

By this time, the sun had begun to set, and it was time to return to the hovel. As they left the hamlet, Thomas happened to find a rusty fishhook along the path. He gently bent down, and added it to his growing pile of "junk". To it's side, he also noticed a small broom handle, the straws of which long since used up. Fortunately, the binding strings holding the straws were still somewhat attached. This, as well was added to Thomas's pack.

Soon, the pair reached the fjord, but were shocked to find that the cords holding the bridge together had become frayed, and the bridge now lay broken.

Reaching into his pack, Thomas quickly withdrew the rope, and quickly patched the bridge.

They safely crossed the fjord, but Thomas's friend didn't appear too well.

"What is wrong, my friend?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I have missed lunch. I'm an hungered, and I thirst."

"No worries," said Thomas jovially. "Sit under yon tree, and I'll get a fire going. Soon, you'll be sated."

Thomas then pulled the crockery out of his pack. Going to the edge of the fjord, he quickly filled it to the brim with cool, fresh water. Handing it to his parched friend, Thomas commanded him to drink.

Thomas then took the discarded broom handle, and tied the fishhook to one of the wayward strands still attached. Tearing off a piece of the loaf, he baited the makeshift pole and cast it deep into the middle of the stream. In no time, he had a nibble, and pulled forth a rather large trout. Repeating the process, he soon had enough fish for a wonderful meal.

His friend was overcome with gratitude. "To think, that the things I saw as useless would provide our salvation."

Which just goes to prove:

Moral:

One man's trash is another man's treasure.

Too often, we discard things before they have exceeded their usefulness. Often, this includes us discarding people we think are useless as well. Everyone has a purpose. No one should ever be judged as useless. We should all strive to strengthen our brothers and sisters, so that their inner talents can shine brightly.

Watch Where You Sit!
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, there lived a clever carpenter in the town of Cedardale. he was known far and wide for being the best craftsman of his trade around, and as word of the quality of his work spread, he began to get an ego. it wasn't too long before he became boastful of his skill.

One day, he was heard boasting to his friend in the town square, "I can make just about anything you can imagine, and out of any kind of wood you bring me. Yes, when I build something, it's built to last."

The retainer to the king heard this, and immediately ran to tell the king her good news.

"Sire," she bowed deeply, "I have found the man you seek. he claims he can build anything, and it will last indefinitely. Perhaps he can solve our termite problem, and build you the throne you desire."

"Send for him at once! If he can do as he claims, I'll give him half my kingdom. But if he fails..."

So the carpenter was summoned, and soon appeared before the king.

"Is it true you can build ANYTHING out of wood?"

"It is."

"And it will last indefinitely?"

"It will."

"Then I will give you everything you need to build me a throne. I'll come in thirty days to test it. If it is as you say, I will make you second in command, and give you half my kingdom."
=== === ===
The carpenter was overjoyed, and quickly went to work to make the king the grandest throne he could imagine.

At the end of the thirty days, the king came to inspect his work.

"It is very beautiful to the eyes," the king admitted. "But can it pass the ULTIMATE test?"

The carpenter simply nodded.

The king, pleased, went to sit on the throne. A few seconds later, he began to hear cracking noises coming from beneath him. Before anyone could react, the king had fallen to the ground, soiling his regal robes.

"You idiot!" the king raged. "Did you not think to test the wood first to see if it was suitable to bear my weight? You have made me look like a fool. Guards! Seize him!"

Moral:

Pride goes before a fall.

One should never boast of past accomplishments, or rely on them too heavily to establish a reputation.
A person's ongoing words and deeds should define him or her, and not the things of the past.

Today's parable was inspired by a story I read by a dear friend, Sarah Goodwoman. It's a story of betrayal, revenge, and ultimately, healing. You may read it --> here <--

How Brother Mole Lost His Sight
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Many moons ago, when the Earth was still new, and the Great Spirit still walked among His creation, there lived a rather rambunctious mole. Brother Mole was well known among the other animals for playing tricks, most of which, though annoying or embarrassing, proved harmless.

One day, the animals were talking together about Brother Mole's tricks, when the Great Spirit, unseen by them all, overheard their complaints.

"He stole my honey!" said Brother Bear, "and replaced it with mud from the swamp. It took nearly two days to get the taste of that filth out of my mouth. I nearly drank Lake Eerie dry!"

"He swapped my eggs with Sister Crocodile's,", said Sister Goose. "The hatchlings nearly snipped all my tail feathers off!"

"He put a termite's nest on my dam," cried Cousin Beaver. "Took me two months to rebuild."

"Something must be done about his pranks!" they all cried out, "before he really hurts someone."

The Great Spirit chuckled at these pranks. After all, they WERE harmless -- for the most part -- but He also took their complaints and concerns under advisement.

A few days later, Brother Mole was feeling frisky, and decided to play a trick on Old Man Cougar. Now Old Man Cougar was a skilled hunter, but his eyesight was beginning to fail due to his advanced age, and he was also becoming forgetful. He had retreated to his cave, where he had two nice salmon roasting over his cooking spit.

"Greetings, Brother Cougar," he called out. "It is I, Brother Mole. You invited me for dinner, remember?"

"I did? I don't remember."

"Yes. You said that since you had two nice fresh fish, that I could join you. Are they done?"

"I think so, but I can't really see well enough to take them off my spit. Can you hand me my glasses beside the fire?"

Mole just couldn't resist the opportunity. He grabbed a glowing ember from the fire, being careful not to burn himself. He knew that Cougar's thick shin wouldn't register the heat until it was too late, and he jumped at the chance to have a little fun.

Cougar grabbed for the ember, placing it in his good eye, thinking it was his glasses. Immediately, he heard a sizzling sound and felt the searing pain as he slowly realized what had happened.

"How could you?" he roared. "You have blinded me, after I offered you my hospitality. I wish the Great Spirit would blind you as you've blinded me!"

"It is so done!" a voice boomed, as Mole's world quickly faded to darkness.

Moral:

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.

Pranks have a way of backfiring, and often, so does revenge.
Be careful when you wish evil on others, because in the end, you will lose as well.

* EDIT: *

Although this moral has been attributed to Mohandas Gandhi, there is no OFFICIAL record of him actually speaking the line, according to The Gandhi Institute for Nonviolence. Louis Fischer, in his biography of Gandhi, DID, however use the phrase in referring to Gandhi's philosophy of passive resistance. The phrase is a twist on the biblical verse found in Exodus 21:24. Reference to the longer phrase ("An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth makes the world blind and toothless") is documented in a 1914 transcript from the Canadian House of Parliament, where a Mr. Graham is arguing in opposition of the death penalty. This is the earliest documented use of the phrase I can find.

Check out the full story HERE. - Haylee V, 12-Jun-2017

The Cross-Eyed Bear
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, in a forest deep and lush, lived a very lonely, very sad bear named Thaddeus. Thaddeus wasn't like other bears. Sure, he loved honey, and splashing in the stream, and catching fresh salmon. All bears do. But Thaddeus had a very unique problem -- his eyes.

You see, Thaddeus was born with what one would call a "Lazy Eye". Although it didn't affect his health, as he could see perfectly fine, it did make him the butt of many jokes and pranks from the other forest animals. The constant ridicule and taunts caused Thaddeus to withdraw into himself. As a result, this kind, gentle bear had no one he could actually call a friend. Even his family shunned him because of his appearance. Many nights Thaddeus cried himself to sleep out of loneliness.

Then, one day during a huge storm, lightning struck a tree in the distance, setting it ablaze. Thaddeus saw the tree ignite, and was quick to respond, rallying the animals together at the river. In order to survive, they must all cross to the safety of the other shore. they knew the river would contain the fire, as it would not be able to jump over such a large body of water.

Unfortunately, the torrential rains had caused the river to swell well beyond its borders, and the swift current was too much for any of the animals to forge safely. They began to panic. If they could not cross, then they surely all would perish.

Thaddeus looked around in desperation. Even though they had all basically ostracized him, his conscious would not allow him to let anyone die in such a horrid way. Just as all seemed hopelessly lost, Thaddeus spied an old oak out of the corner of his eye that had fallen across the river. With a little help, a well-timed jump, and some luck, the animals could safely cross.

Thaddeus quickly formed a plan, and informed the other animals. He first helped all the little, weaker animals cross, and then began to help the bigger, less agile ones. Only when he was sure everyone else had safely crossed did Thaddeus start to make his escape. By then, the fire was right up against the shore.

Thaddeus leaped upon the oak. Unfortunately, his weight was too much for the old tree to bear, and it snapped in two when he was about halfway through. The current quickly caught him, and swept him away -- too fast for the others to save. In an effort to save those he considered his friends, Thaddeus had given his own life.

Moral:

No greater love has anyone, than he would lay down his life for a friend.

In this life, we all have our "cross-eyed bears".
How we choose to carry them, and what we do with them, will help define our very character.

I'll Give You The World...
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Alaine had to be, without a doubt, one of the loveliest and most graceful women in the entire world. Everyone in the hamlet of Dervonshire simply adored her. Women wanted to emulate -- no, to actually BE -- her, and men courted her day and night, trying in vain to win her favor -- and her heart.

But Alaine, both noble and gentle in all her ways, would have none of it. She was her father's only child, and had sworn to her mother, on her deathbed, to look after Papa until his dying day. She didn't mind this task, as Papa was every bit as kind and loving as she, herself was. But, as hearts are often wan to do, she longed for someone her equal, to share her life with.

True, she loved Papa dearly, but it just wasn't the same. Who would she turn to when he passed into the Great Beyond? She needed someone that would love her unconditionally, and help her take care of Papa as well.
=== === ===
One day, a handsome stranger rode into town on a gorgeous white palomino. His attire spoke volumes as to his wealth, and his charms set every girl's heart aflutter. He was suave and debonair, and exuded sophistication and breeding in every movement he made. In short, he was every woman's Prince Charming.

He set his sights immediately on Alaine, determined to win the heart of the unwinnable goddess of the land. Many nights would he treat her to dinners by candle ligt or midnight serenades. He lauded platitudes on her, and poured on every charm he possessed, eventually catching her eye.
=== === ===
"My Dear Alaine," he stated. "What must I do to win your heart?"

"My wants are simple, Sire. Love me, and help me care for Papa."

"For you, my beloved, I would give the world."
=== === ===
Alaine was overjoyed at hearing this. She gladly accepted his proposal, and the two were wed.

After the honeymoon, however, the "prince" began to show his true colors. He had Alaine's father placed in a nursing home -- the worst in the country, and proceeded to usurp the family fortune. Having no further need to disguise himself, he reverted to his old ways -- tyrannical and overbearing.

"But you promised me the world,..." Alaine cried, heartbroken.

"Aah, sweet, innocent, naïve child," the prince said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't you know? I would have said absolutely anything to get what I wanted. It's not my fault you fell for my charms."

Moral:

All's fair in love and war.

One of the sad truths in life is that there are some people that will do almost anything to further their own selfish agendas.
Never sacrifice your morals or principles for these smooth-talking charlatans. Always stand your ground, and you'll come out on top in the end.

It seems to me that in the past week or so, several GOOD PEOPLE I know have suffered tragic losses. Some have lost health or wealth. Some have lost dear friends or loved ones. Some have lost happiness and hope, or even the very will to go on another step. Today's parable is dedicated to all of you, with my undying love. -- Haylee V

Reaping the Harvest

A farmer had two sons, who were always trying to one-up each other. Whatever the younger one would try to do, the elder would try to do better, or harder, or longer, and vice versa.

Soon, the contests got out of hand. The field lay ready for harvest; the grain hung heavy from the stalks.

"I will reap the harvest myself!" cried the younger son. "I'm much better with the scythe than you are, brother dear. I'm willing to bet that by sundown, I'll have the whole field threshed. Then father will know who the better son is."

So saying, the brother headed to the field, scythe in hand. It was still the cool of the day, as the sun was still inching its way skyward. The brother worked diligently, and soon had cleared the first few rows. The sun was beginning to beat down stronger, but on the son worked.

As the noontime hour approached, the son began to get tired. The sun was now high in the sky, and beat mercilessly down upon the ill-prepared son, for he had forgot to cover his head or to take any water skin with him. He sat in the newly plowed row, hungry, parched, and sunburned.

"Surely I can rest for a bit. I still have plenty of time left to harvest the rest of my fields."

So saying, the younger son headed indoors to the shade provided, where a hot meal and cool drink awaited him.

"Tired already?" the elder brother jeered. "Then rest, and I'll show you how a REAL MAN handles the harvest."

So saying, the elder brother gathered his sickle and headed to his side of the field to begin.

Although he also worked diligently, he found that he could get no more done than his brother. Cutting the stalks, binding them, threshing the grain and then gathering it together in the storehouse, and then burning the chaff proved too much for just one man to handle. At sundown, the elder son came in, weary and forlorn

"It appears that the task is even too great for me, brother dear. The harvest is just too great."

With that, the father smiled broadly. "Tomorrow, my children, I shall show you how WE, working TOGETHER, can bring in the harvest. Rest now -- both of you -- and we will begin at sunrise."

The next day, the father woke his sons up at the crack of dawn.

"Jacob," he said to the eldest, "You are good with the plow and thresher. You will gather and bundle the cut stalks."

"David," he called to the younger son, "You are good with sickle and scythe. You will cut the stalks. I will thresh the grain and burn the chaff.

Having been assigned their tasks, the three began to harvest the field. By lunch time, they had completed the harvest, and gathered inside for a celebratory lunch.

"Working together," the father explained, "We accomplished what we could not separately. Remember well this lesson, my dear sons."

Moral:

Burdens shared are burdens lessened.

Often, when faced with an overwhelming task, we like to "go it alone", shunning the help of those perhaps more skilled. This is also true when we are troubled, as we don't typically want to bother others with our affairs. but when we DO reach out, our hearts are always lifted, and our loads always seem lighter.

So I say to you, dear friends: Be well. Be happy. Be blessed. Always. -- Haylee V

How Deep Is Your Beauty?
(c) 2017
Haylee V

Once upon a time, a poor farmer married a beautiful princess. She was every bit as charming, graceful, and genteel on the inside as she was beautiful on the outside. The two were madly in love with each other, and even though the princess had to give up her right to the throne in order to marry such a commoner, she never once regretted her decision.

The couple was by no means rich, but their kindness was known far and wide, and due to their generous nature, that seldom lacked for anything, as their kindness would always be repaid when they found themselves in need.

One day, the princess discovered that she was pregnant, and was delighted to know that quite shortly, she would have the family she had always wanted.

But alas! such was not to be. For the princess carried twins, and being petite, she simply could not endure the delivery. While the first daughter was born healthy, the second was breech, and misshapen. The birth took its toll on both mother and child, and shortly after the second child was born, the fair princess died

The town mourned the loss of the princess, but in time, things returned to normal. The farmer somehow managed to raise his two daughters alone. The elder one grew in beauty, but her heart was full of bitterness, especially towards her twin. Why, if not for her, she would have had a complete family - a father AND a mother. Nary a day went by that the bitter sister didn't, in some way, try to add to the younger sister's misfortune.

But the younger sister, having inherited her mother's gentle nature, took it all in stride. She grew up kind and compassionate, and took great pains in helping those who were unfortunate or downtrodden. Being an outcast herself, she could truly empathize with their plights.

Soon, both girls reached the age where all women leave home to seek out lives of their own. The elder sister, being radiant like the very sun, had no trouble finding suitors, and was soon betrothed to the king's son. The younger sister, however, had no such luck. Men would ask her to remove her shawl, which always covered her deformed face, and upon seeing her, would always run away, never to return.

One day, the farmer , being up in years by now, and unable to do heavy lifting anymore, asked his eldest daughter to fetch some water from the town's well. Although she felt the task was beneath her, she grudgingly agreed.

As she was returning from the well, an ugly and gnarled troll happened by, and asked her for a drink.

"Please, beautiful maiden, spare a drink for a poor, thirsty soul. I fear I cannot make it to the well myself."

"Why should I?" the sister replied. "I am beautiful, and you are horrid. If I were to be seen with you, my reputation would be ruined. Get away from me, you filthy, ugly beast!"

"Your beauty is shallow, and will one day fade, but by then, everyone will know your true nature."

And with that, the troll vanished with a puff of smoke. The elder sister just shrugged and continued on her way, completely unaware that the curse had already begun its work.

The next day, the farmer again needed water. With the older sister being away, he asked the younger one to perform the task. She happily agreed, proud that she could at last repay, in some small way, the man who had raised her.

Along her journey back, she, also met the troll.

"Please, fair maiden, spare me a sip of water. I thirst, and cannot make it to the well myself."

"I say," she exclaimed, "that few have ever called me fair before. Sure you may have a drink. Drink your fill, kind sir. I can always fetch more, if needed."

"You are kind and tender of heart. Such inner beauty is rare. One day, all will see it."

And with that, the troll vanished in a puff of smoke.

The sister was dumbstruck at first, but quickly hurried home, to aid her father. She failed to realize that her scarf had fallen off in her haste.

As she knelt by her father, she noticed he had an odd expression on his face.

"Who might you be, dear?" he asked.

"Oh, Father. Don't be silly. It is I, Druscilla."

"But you... you look so like your mother. Even your face is radiant. Here, see for yourself."

Taking the proffered mirror, she gazed into her reflection - only to find it radically changed. Gone was her horrid disfigurement, replaced by beauty beyond compare.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, as she dropped the mirror onto her father's lap. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for her fine fortune.

Meanwhile, the elder sister was dining with her betrothed, when, all of a sudden, the room got quiet, and the prince's face turned white.

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked innocently.

"I never noticed before what an ugly old crone you were," he said. "To think you bewitched me with your foul magic. I'm glad, for whatever reason, the spell was broken before I made a dreadful mistake. Guards! Seize her, and dispose of her as we dispose of all witches."

After a few days, Druscilla began to worry about her sister, who had not returned home yet, so she went to see the prince. From the moment their eyes met, they both knew it was love.

"Will you marry me?" the prince asked.

"Yes," Druscilla replied, "But only on two conditions. You must allow my father to live here in the palace with me, and you must release my sister from the dungeon, and restore her to her rightful status."

For, even though her sister had always treated her cruelly, she was, after all, family, and Druscilla, in good conscience, could not bear to see anyone, even someone as wretched as her sister had been, to suffer.

"Anything for you, my love," he replied.

And they lived happily ever after. The elder sister never did fully regain her beauty, but she was known far and wide for her wisdom and humbleness.

Moral:

TRUE beauty comes from the heart, and works its way out, until the whole person shines with its radiance. Don't be fooled by the shallow, fake trappings of what some erroneously label "beauty".

If I Had All the Gold...
(c) 2017 Haylee V

Once upon a time, there lived a handsome, but very greedy and conceited prince. In fact, the only thing this prince loved more than himself was gold.

One day, while out strolling his vast kingdom, he happened to see a poor peasant getting ready to throw a basket into the river. Upon reaching the peasant, he realized the basket in question was filled to the brim with what appeared to be golden eggs!

"Wait!" said the prince. "Don't you know how valuable those eggs are?"

"Why?" the peasant replied. "I haven't eaten in three days, and all my goose can do is lay these. They're not even edible. The goose, and these eggs, are TOTALLY USELESS!"

"In that case," the greedy prince said, seizing his (quite literal) golden opportunity, "I propose a trade. All the geese in my kingdom, in exchange for your one goose and all her eggs."

Why, thought the poor peasant, If I had that many geese, I'd never be hungry again. And I'd have the softest bed and warmest quilt in the land, with all that down.

"Deal!" said the peasant. "I'll fetch her to the castle at once. You already have all the eggs she's laid, except the very first one. I threw it in my garbage, but I can get it for you, if you want it."

"Indeed I do!" the greedy prince said, rubbing his fingers.

So, the prince gave up his entire flock, but now had the world's only golden-egg laying goose.

The next day, the prince was out walking again, when he overheard a farmer crying.

"This cow is no good. The milk she gives is completely useless. Every time I try to make cheese with it, it turns to gold, and the same thing happens when I try to churn it. I end up with a bar of gold instead of butter. Her only use now will be for the slaughterhouse."

Again seizing the opportunity, the prince spoke up.

"I'll give you every cow, bull, steer, and calf in my kingdom, if you'll trade me this cow, and all the milk she's given you thus far."

Without hesitation, the farmer agreed happily.

The next day, the prince overheard yet another farmer.

"My land is completely worthless. Everything I plant comes up solid gold. The trees only give me solid gold apples and pears, my fields only produce solid gold wheat stalks and corn ears; why even the stream has nothing but solid gold fish. I'd trade it all, just for a decent, farmable tract of land."

"I'll give you my castle, and all the surrounding land. Do we have a deal?"

The farmer was all too happy to agree, so the prince moved his cow and goose into the farmer's hovel that day.

Every day that passed, the greedy prince's gold collection grew. For every egg he took, the goose would lay two more in its place. The cow never seemed to run out of milk, giving back two quarts for every one milked. For every golden fish the prince caught, two more would replace it, and his fields yielded their golden fruits in ample supply. The prince had never been happier...

Until he began to get hungry. Having nothing to his name but the gold, he went to the market, to try to barter.

"Of what use are golden fish or apples? Or golden cheese or corn ears? We can't eat them, or really do anything at all with them other than look at them glisten. They're useless."

Finally, a kind peddler took pity on the prince.

"While I have no use for your golden wares, I also can't stand to see anyone, no matter how greedy, go hungry. Although the fare is meager to a prince of your wealth, you may share with me."

And that meal, to the greedy prince, meant more than all the gold he owned, for it had saved him from certain starvation.

Moral:

Money isn't the only thing in life.

Sometimes we forget that the only value something- or someone- has is what we choose to give to it, and what we see as "valuable" others may see as "useless". Always strive to be valuable to everyone you meet, and you'll never truly be poor.

It appears Parable won out, so here you go!

The Friend Unchosen
(c) 2017
Haylee V

"God, I hate these damn crippled bums!" James exhaled, as he stumbled drunkenly down the alley. "All they ever do is beg for handouts. They're just a burden on society and good for nothing. They should all just be rounded up and put out of their miserable existence."

He was drunk as a skunk, but he didn't care. He was a made man now, having just signed a $75 million, 5 year, iron-clad contract with the Detroit Lions. As of 9 AM tomorrow, he would be the go-to quarterback for the team, now that Matthew Stafford had officially announced his retirement.

The party had lasted a little longer than he had expected, and his girlfriend had left when it had just begun to get rowdy, claiming an early work shift tomorrow and a slight headache. In truth, though, she just didn't want to see him drunk off his gourd yet again.

"Excuse me, Sir," yet another vagrant accosted. "Can you spare a dollar for a cup of coffee?"

James rolled his eyes in disgust at the legless bum.

"Here's a ten," he sneered, throwing the bill o n the ground at his feet. "Now why don't you just crawl into a sewer grate somewhere and drown? You're killing my buzz."

Laughing maniacally, he stepped off the curb, never once bothering to notice the flashing signal. He never saw the swerving truck as it plowed into him.

James lay in the hospital bed, clinging to life. The operation had been successful, but he had lost a lot of blood- both after the accident (and in transit to the trauma unit) and during surgery. His left leg, unfortunately, had to be amputated shortly below the knee, and his right leg had been completely lost. He would never again walk unassisted. Finally, the doctors felt he was stable enough to wake from his medically induced coma.

The first thing James saw as he opened his eyes was the legless bum, strapped to a gurney beside him.

"How do you feel, friend?"

"Why do you care? And just who the Hell are you, anyway?"

"I'm the rat you told to crawl in the sewer and drown. When I heard the screeching tires, I just had to see what happened. You lost a lot of blood. You almost died, in fact."

"I wish I had. My life's over."

"No, it's just begun. You're young, and you'll adapt. I'd hate to think that I wasted 2 pints of my own blood on someone who's just going to give up."

"But why save me, of all people? I was so mean to you..."

"I couldn't just sit there and let you die."

Moral:

We don't often get to choose our friends. Sometimes, they choose us instead.

Always strive to treat everyone as if your life depended on their friendship, because one day, it just might.

Today's parable is very special to me and is written from the depths of my heart. Given what I'm currently going through, I felt compelled to write about my experiences. It is deep, it is dark, but hopefully, will also be far-reaching and uplifting to those out there that need it. I hope you enjoy it. - Haylee V

It's Time To Go
(c) 2017
Haylee V

Jake sat in the hospital bed, tears streaming from his face as he digested the news: Stage 4 Squamous Cell Carcinoma- the deadliest form of lung cancer. In less than a month, he would die.

"But why? And so soon. Surely we can try one more round of chemo. Radiation. More surgery. Anything!"

"We can increase the morphine and try to make you comfortable. Beyond that, all I can tell you is to start to make peace- with yourself and others. If there's anything at all that you don't want to leave left undone, then do it."

Monica trembled as she held her brother's hand. "Maybe it's time," she whispered.

"I'll never forgive him for what he did to our family!" Jake screamed, perhaps too vehemently, as he was wracked with a major coughing jag immediately afterward. "That bastard ruined our family. Mom loved him, and he did that to her. Became that disgusting thing. I don't care if they did cut off his damn penis. He was our father and her husband, yet he freely chose to become that 'Vicky' thing."

"Have you even met her? She's pretty amazing. And happier now than Dad ever was. If Mom and I can forgive her and move on, why can't you?"

"Because..." Jake began. "I had to give up my life... my dreams... to be the provider he never was. Had I not enlisted in the Navy and worked in the shipyards, I would not have been exposed, wouldn't have gotten sick, and wouldn't be dying now. He... no, IT... can rot in hell for all I care."

Just then, a silver-haired woman walked in, tears streaming down her face, ruining her makeup and causing her to resemble a raccoon.

"Jacob Wesley Abrams," she began. "I never stopped loving you. I never meant to affect your life so much by my choices. I had no choice in my actions- the testosterone in my body was causing my liver to fail. When I received my diagnosis and told your mother, we tried- hard, to stay together. But same sex marriages were forbidden back then and had we stayed together, the two of you would have been forever separated in the foster care system. I knew I would not be allowed to keep you, so I did the only thing I could. I was left with the choice of leaving you voluntarily, and living as a woman, or staying, doing nothing, and dying as a man. Your mother loved me enough to encourage me to choose life. Now, if you're willing, I'd like to share my life with you again, Son."

"I'm... sorry, Dad... err, Mom... err... Just what the hell do I call you, anyway?"

"How about just calling me forgiven? We can work out the details later. For now, I need to embrace my Son. It's been far too long."

Moral:

Nothing is ever as heavy as a grudge, nor ever held as long. We should always be willing and open to offer forgiveness to those that have wronged us, and to accept forgiveness from those that offer it to us.

The Scram-bacopanca-bagemuffi-biscandsausag-inator
(C) 2017
Haylee V

Once upon a time, and long before anyone had ever heard of such modern conveniences as electricity or microwaves or fast food restaurants, there lived an inventor named Thomas.

Now Thomas wasn't your ordinary kind of inventor- Heavens, no!- he liked to make complicated machines to perform simple tasks, like raking leaves or washing clothes or baking bread.

One day, the king called upon Thomas to make him an invention- one that would make quick work of preparing breakfast. For you see, the king loved to wake up every morning to fresh coffee and warm toasted bread with butter and jam. But unfortunately, every time the royal chef would place a piece of bread on the cooking spit, it would fall through the slats and into the fire- hopelessly rendering it forever inedible.

Thomas was sure he was up to the task and set forth quickly from the palace to the royal junk heap, to obtain parts for his miraculous machine to toast the king's bread.

Along the way, he ran into a merchant selling fresh eggs and bacon.

"I bet the king would love scrambled eggs and bacon with his toast. I'll have to add something that will cook them as well," Thomas said to his apprentice John.

"The king just wants toast. Nothing more. There's no need to make things so complicated."

"It's no trouble at all. I'll just need a few more parts is all..."

Next, he came upon a group of lumberjacks just sitting down to breakfast. The smell of sausages, pancakes, and warm maple syrup wafted on the breeze, filling the inventor's nostrils and making him quite hungry.

"Aah! Now that smells divine. Surely I can add something that would make such a wonderful addition to the king's breakfast," he thought aloud.

"Toast. And jam. That's all the king requested," John reminded him. "Must you make things so complicated?"

"Nonsense," Thomas replied. "Just a few more parts is all..."

Soon, they passed the local bakery. Thomas eyed the freshly made cakes, muffins, and bagels eagerly.

"Surely adding such delicious baked goods can do no harm."

"Toast. T-O-A-S-T. And J-A-M, jam," John replied.

"It's only two or three more parts. What harm can they do?"

John knew he was defeated, for Thomas's mind was set to make an elaborate machine for the king. He silently listed the things he would need to make a machine the king actually wanted.

Finally, they reached the royal junkyard, and Thomas quickly proceeded to gather all the parts for his miraculous invention. John, however, just gathered the few parts he thought he would need in order to make the king something that would toast his bread in the morning.

Having completely filled his wheelbarrow, Thomas turned to John, quite satisfied.

"Now, the fun begins," he stated. "By the time I'm finished, the king will have a breakfast befitting someone of his stature: Scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages, pancakes with warm maple syrup, bagels, biscuits, and muffins.

John, however, just shrugged and set about making his bread toaster.

The next day, with their machines completed, the pair went before the king.

Thomas began to set up his complicated apparatus, while John simply handed the cook his toaster. Within minutes, the king had been served his warm toast and jam, while Thomas was only half-through assembling the complicated device.

"Just you wait, your majesty!" Thomas beamed. "Once I'm set up, you'll have the grandest breakfast around!"

"But will it make toast?" the king questioned.

"Toast?" Thomas replied. "I never thought of that, in my rush to make you the ideal breakfast."

"Then your machine is useless to me. Take it (and yourself) away. For this day, I now know who the true inventor is."

Moral:

Sometimes, the simplest things are the best.

We often tend to add to our problems when we overthink things. It is only when we take a step back, and truly examine the challenges we face, that we realize that the true solution- the simplest solution- was staring us in the face all along.

(c)2017
Haylee V

The clouds spread, dark and foreboding, over the expansive field. Soon, the little light that had been radiating in the late autumn day would completely be gone, as the sun set in the Western sky and the dusk spread its nocturnal blanket over the land.

James looked worriedly over the unfinished cistern on his potter's wheel. He had started in the early dawn, just as the first rays had shown over the horizon, turning the horizon a rich crimson, and driving the indigo-infused strata away for another day. Can I finish the lantern today? he silently asked himself.

James was a perfectionist's perfectionist and would accept nothing less than the absolute best out of himself and his work. A plethora of discarded crockery lay in waste at the feet of the old potter's wheel, forever blemished in one of James's vain tirades to produce the "perfect" piece.

"Come inside, Father," his son implored, "For the darkness approaches quickly, and soon night will fall upon the land. You have done much today, and tomorrow is another day. Besides, supper is almost ready.

His father, seeing the futility of his efforts, quickly acquiesced. Soon he was seated at the table, breaking bread and eating the thin stew his son had so lovingly prepared on the hearth.

"A most excellent meal, my Son, as always. Being Baker Timothy's apprentice has surely paid off for you, unlike me. I can make nothing worth a tinker's damn anymore, ever since Baldo left for the king's court. I just no longer have the inspiration."

"Hush, Father," Daniel admonished. "You are still a valued member of the community, and your urns and milk churns are the talks of the land. But come to bed, as the fire is quickly dying out."

Upon uttering this, the last ember in the hearth quickly died out, leaving the tiny hovel in complete darkness. Reaching up on the mantle quickly, Daniel grabbed a ceramic candle holder, inserted a tapered candle, and lit it. As he did so, the light quickly filled the entire room, illuminating it with its soft, warm glow.

Upon seeing this, James remembered the simpler times, when, as an apprentice himself, he had first fashioned the candle holder. It wasn't the prettiest thing he had ever made, by far, but it served its purpose well.

Moral:

Sometimes, functionality can be much more valuable than beauty.

Many times, in an effort to find the "perfect" item, whether it be china, an expensive vase, or even a mate, we forget our real intent- to fill a void in our lives. If we step back and truly remember what we are seeking, we can work past the facade of beauty and find that which we are really seeking.

Once upon a time, in a country far away, lived a poor vagrant named John. Now, John didn't have much -- just the tattered rags on his back, a well-worn tent, and an even more worn donkey, Gladys -- but he was content. His bed was usually the soft grasses of the field, or the hard, cobbled stones of the city streets. His friends were the various birds, rodents, and other vermin of the city and wildlands

Every morning, John would pack up his tent and load it on Gladys' back, then begin his daily scavaging runs of the city, ofthen finding odd uses for what others in the city considered mere junk. Some items he was able to sell or trade for coins, with which he would buy grain for his dear Gladys. Sometimes, he was even fortunate enough to earn enough to buy himself and Gladys a warm place to sleep and a decent meal.

One day, as he was resting by the castle gates during the heat of the day, a traveling noble happened by in his fancy chariot. When Gladys saw the huge orange wheels, she obviously mistook them for carrots, and took a huge bite out of the nearest one, breaking it off its axle and throwing the nobleman to the ground. This made the nobleman quite upset and embarassed, and he petitioned the constable to fine John for the damages.

At the trial, when the judge saw that John had no means to pay, he ordered John thrown into prison for a year (to work off his debt), and ordered all of his [very] meager posessions (including Gladys) turned over to the nobleman. In a smug tone, the nobleman snidely turned to John and remarked, "Maybe now, you and your kind will learn to respect those above you, and stay in the dumps where you belong. As for that beast, I have no choice but to care for the old bag (as is our law), but if I could, I'd..."

But John instead of returning with a snide remark of his own, merely bowed down before both the judge and the nobleman and thanked them both profusely.

"Often, have I struggled to provide adequately for Gladys. Now, though, I know she will have nuch food and decent bedding, as will I -- for at least a year, that is. I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me."

Moral:

"No adversity is to great to break a content and contrite spirit, nor is there any amount that will sate a greedy heart."

When one finds true contentment, and becomes truly thankful for the blessings he or she has been granted, NOTHING can stand in the way of his or her happiness.