Author Unknown
Once Upon a time, there was a boy with a perfect and unblemished heart. He proudly opened his chest and showed off his heart to the admiration of all. The villagers gathered around and gazed at its perfection. They marveled at its beauty and admired its smooth unblemished wholeness.
All agreed they had never seen such a beautiful heart, except one bent old man that took one look and scoffed, “That is no beautiful heart. Why mine is far more beautiful.”
The villagers and the boy turned to look at the old man in astonishment. His bent arthritic fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons, but he managed to release them all, then he opened up his chest and exposed his heart to them all. The villagers and the boy were dumbstruck.
What they saw was a heart scarred, frayed, and torn. Most of the pieces of his heart were ill fitting. A very few were too big and had been forced in so that they spilled over the top. Others were too small or the wrong shape and they left small gaps where the sides should meet. There were still other places where chunks were missing altogether.
“Old man,” the boy said, “how can you possibly say that thing is your chest is more beautiful than MY heart.”
The old man looked at the boy with pity in his eyes and said, “My heart is scarred because I’ve shared it. The pieces of my heart that I’ve shared with others haven’t always perfectly matched those I’ve received in return. Sometimes the pieces of my heart that I gave away were never returned, but at least I have risked them, boy. It’s true that my heart is scarred because of risks I’ve taken with it, I will forever carry a part of their hearts with me as they will always carry a piece of mine.”
Almost all of the villagers moved on about their business, but the boy was moved by the old man’s words. He carefully tore out a piece of his heart, and with trembling fingers offered it to the old man. Solemnly, the old man tore off a piece of his own heart and replaced it with the boy’s. The boy took the piece of the old man’s heart and with tears in his eyes placed it tenderly in the place of his own.
The old man smiled and left without a word. The boy looked down at his now imperfect heart with tears running down his face. It’s true that the piece of the old man’s heart was ill-fitting. It was slightly smaller than the piece he had given the old man, and the shape was wrong, leaving jagged gaps in the once smooth surface.
Yet it was not because his heart was no longer perfect. He now understood that he would always carry a piece of the old man’s heart to remember him by, just as the old man would carry a piece of the boy’s wherever he may go.
All agreed they had never seen such a beautiful heart, except one bent old man that took one look and scoffed, “That is no beautiful heart. Why mine is far more beautiful.”
The villagers and the boy turned to look at the old man in astonishment. His bent arthritic fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons, but he managed to release them all, then he opened up his chest and exposed his heart to them all. The villagers and the boy were dumbstruck.
What they saw was a heart scarred, frayed, and torn. Most of the pieces of his heart were ill fitting. A very few were too big and had been forced in so that they spilled over the top. Others were too small or the wrong shape and they left small gaps where the sides should meet. There were still other places where chunks were missing altogether.
“Old man,” the boy said, “how can you possibly say that thing is your chest is more beautiful than MY heart.”
The old man looked at the boy with pity in his eyes and said, “My heart is scarred because I’ve shared it. The pieces of my heart that I’ve shared with others haven’t always perfectly matched those I’ve received in return. Sometimes the pieces of my heart that I gave away were never returned, but at least I have risked them, boy. It’s true that my heart is scarred because of risks I’ve taken with it, I will forever carry a part of their hearts with me as they will always carry a piece of mine.”
Almost all of the villagers moved on about their business, but the boy was moved by the old man’s words. He carefully tore out a piece of his heart, and with trembling fingers offered it to the old man. Solemnly, the old man tore off a piece of his own heart and replaced it with the boy’s. The boy took the piece of the old man’s heart and with tears in his eyes placed it tenderly in the place of his own.
The old man smiled and left without a word. The boy looked down at his now imperfect heart with tears running down his face. It’s true that the piece of the old man’s heart was ill-fitting. It was slightly smaller than the piece he had given the old man, and the shape was wrong, leaving jagged gaps in the once smooth surface.
Yet it was not because his heart was no longer perfect. He now understood that he would always carry a piece of the old man’s heart to remember him by, just as the old man would carry a piece of the boy’s wherever he may go.
