The Pigs discover FIRE

It's been a long, long time since I've read bedtime stories. It is any wonder? As children we were told of wolves eating grandmas, houses being blown down, witches in the forest, poisoned princesses, headless gingerbread men...they are enough to give us nightmares! But for some reason, I've thought of the "Three Little Pigs" this week.

If I remember correctly, the big, bad wolf would knock on the door of each little pig's home and ask to be let in. The little pigs knew better and replied, "...not by the hair of my chiny-chin-chin." So the wolf huffed and puffed and blew the houses down...until he tried the house made of brick. (Many good object lessons in this story). It was too well built for the wolf's hot breath and in the end...well, it ended happily ever after for the pigs.

While they were wise and saw danger in letting the wolf into their homes, I want to draw another analogy...the need for just the opposite reaction. This past year, many people literally and figuratively came knocking on my door and asked to come in. They weren't wolves. They were good people: family, friends and neighbors. But because I was too independent and too proud, I refused their entrance into my home, my heart and my life. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't rude (I hope). It's just that I didn't give others an opportunity to extend service when they asked "what can I do to help?"

I think I have learned something about "knocking". We may knock on a door and people will say "no". Okay. We accept that and go away. But we never lose interest in the little pigs. My neighbors soon quit knocking. (I guess we get what we ask for.) I am going to assume, however, they never lost their concern for my well being.

We may knock and people will say "no" at first. But we come back a second or third or even a fourth time. Eventually, they know we are sincere and will let us in. My friend, Marnae, was like this. I told her I didn't need any compassionate service meals. After several repeated requests, I gave in. For many weeks during tax season I would come home to find supper in my mailbox. Remember, this was in the dead of winter...my mailbox was like a freezer. I appreciated her determination.

We may knock and people will say no. That's when we go to the back door and try a different approach. This reminds me of another favorite bedtime story, "The Little Mailman of Bayberry Lane." The squirrel was the mailman. Everyday he would deliver letters to Mr. Turtle, Mrs. Duck and Mr. and Mrs. Goose. But there was never a letter for Mrs. Pig. The mailman, seeing Mrs. Pig's loneliness, thought and thought and finally came up with a wonderful idea. He arranged a surprise party so the neighbors could get to know Mrs. Pig better. The party was a great success and Mrs. Pig was never lonely after that. Everyday, the mailman would deliver thank you notes, and party invitations and chatty letters to Mrs. Pig written by all the animals in the neighborhood. Sometimes we need to "think outside the box" and find different ways to serve.

Yes, I should have let people in when they came knocking. They were sincere in their desire to help. I also need to be the one who does the knocking. I'm afraid I am failing in this area too. It's not that I don't care. It's usually a situation of thinking I'm too busy with things that matter least. So I am going to recommit to "pig out" and "knock" on a few doors. And if they don't let me in to their home, I'll try to find a way into their hearts via another route. In fact, I should "huff" and "puff" until I get let in...in a very compassionate, kind, charitable, loving, understanding, sincere way, of course!

So here are my final thoughts on fire. The first comes from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. "Someday, after we have mastered the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness the energies of love. Then, for the second time, man will have discovered fire."

Albert Schweitzer has said, "Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being. Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light."