I don’t know who told me this story, it’s from a long, long time ago.
But I wanted to share it.
Usually, I don’t get political, I don’t read as much news as I used to. It hurts, I get overly passionate and then angry. But today I saw a picture of a little boy who didn’t look so different from my little boy. He was curled and huddled. So little. Little legs. Dangling legs. And it hurt.
So here is my little story.
A long time ago, Parsi people wanted a home.
They were a tribe of people.
They were refugees.
They came to India looking for a place to stay.
And approached the ruler, Jadi Rana.
Jadi Rana showed them a pitcher full of milk to the brim.
Saying there was simply not enough room for more people, the state was full to it’s brim.
One of the Parsi’s took a spoonful of sugar and poured it into the pitcher.
Turns out there was room and the milk became sweeter.
And thus, the Parsi people were welcomed to the new land.
At the end of it all.
We are human and it is innate inside is, to want to help.
It is what we do best.
And when we fear not having enough, we put our fears before what actually is.
Assuming the worst of the future.
Assuming there won’t be enough.
Assuming it won’t work out.
That kind of thinking sucks and stops us from being innately human.
Stops us from stretching our arms out to hug someone in need.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve got room to feed another.
Even if we don’t have a steady wage.
Or a fixed income.
I’ve got room for love.