"Do You Know What's Missing From Your Life?"

You Don't Have To Be Perfect
By: Harold Kushner

The Missing Piece (by Shel Silverstein) tells the story of
a circle that was missing a piece. A large triangular wedge
had been cut out of it. The circle wanted to be whole with
nothing missing, so it went around looking for its missing
piece. But because it was incomplete and therefore could
roll only very slowly, it admired the flowers along the
way. It chatted with worms. It enjoyed the sunshine. It
found lots of different pieces, but none of them fit. So it
left them all by the side of the road and kept on searching.

Then one day the circle found a piece that fit perfectly.
It was so happy. Now it could be whole, with nothing
missing. It incorporated the missing piece into itself and
began to roll. Now that it was a perfect circle, it could
roll very fast, too fast to notice the flowers or talk to
the worms. When it realized how different the world seemed
when it rolled so quickly, it stopped, left its found piece
by the side of the road and rolled slowly away.

The lesson of the story is that in some strange sense we
are more whole when we are missing something. The man who
has everything is in some ways a poor man. He will never
know what it feels like to yearn, to hope, to nourish his
soul with the dream of something better. He will never know
the experience of having someone who loves him give him
something he has always wanted and never had. There is a
wholeness about the person who has come to terms with his
limitations, who has been brave enough to let go of his
unrealistic dreams and not feel like a failure for doing
so. There is a wholeness about the man or woman who has
learned that he or she is strong enough to go through a
tragedy and survive, who can lose someone and still feel
like a complete person.

When we accept that imperfection is part of being human,
and when we can continue rolling through life and
appreciating it, we will have achieved a wholeness that
others can only aspire to. That, I believe, is what God
asks of us - not "Be perfect" and not "Don't ever make a
mistake," but "Be whole." And at the end, if we are brave
enough to love, strong enough to forgive, generous enough
to rejoice in another's happiness, and wise enough to know
there is enough love to go around for us all, then we can
achieve a fulfillment that no other living creature will
ever know.

"Have You Planned Well For The Cycles Of Your Life? Or Will You Be Overwhelmed?"

Making Sandcastles
By: Unknown Author

Hot sun. Salty air. Rhythmic waves.

A little boy is on his knees scooping and packing the sand
with plastic shovels into a bright blue bucket. Then he
upends the bucket on the surface and lifts it. And, to the
delight of the little architect, a castle tower is created.
All afternoon he will work. Spooning out the moat. Packing
the walls. Bottle tops will be sentries. Popsicle sticks
will be bridges. A sandcastle will be built.

Big city. Busy streets. Rumbling traffic.

A man is in his office. At his desk he shuffles papers
into stacks and delegates assignments. He cradles the phone
on his shoulder and punches the keyboard with his fingers.
Numbers are juggled and contracts are signed. And much to
the delight of the man, a profit is made. All his life he
will work. Formulating the plans. Forecasting the future.
Annuities will be sentries. Capital gains will be bridges.
An empire will be built.

Two builders of two castles. They have much in common.
They shape granules into grandeurs. They see nothing and
make something. They are diligent and determined. And for
both the tide will rise and the end will come. Yet that is
where the similarities cease. For the boy sees the end
while the man ignores it.

Watch the boy as the dusk approaches. As the waves near,
the wise child jumps to his feet and begins to clap. There
is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would
happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker
crashes into his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into
the sea, he smiles. He smiles, picks up his tools, takes
his father's hand, and goes home.

The grownup, however, is not so wise. As the wave of years
collapses on his castle, he is terrified. He hovers over
the sandy monument to protect it. He blocks the waves from
the walls he has made. Salt-water soaked and shivering, he
snarls at the incoming tide. "It's my castle," he defies.

The ocean need not respond. Both know to whom the sand
belongs...