Skip to main content

The house with golden windows

The little girl lived in a small, very simple, poor house on a hill and as she grew she would play in the small garden and as she grew she was able to see over the garden fence and across the valley to a wonderful house high on the hill – and this house had golden windows, so golden and shining that the little girl would dream of how magic it would be to grow up and live in a house with golden windows instead of an ordinary house like hers.

And although she loved her parents and her family, she yearned to live in such a golden house and dreamed all day about how wonderful and exciting it must feel to live there.

When she got to an age where she gained enough skill and sensibility to go outside her garden fence, she asked her mother is she could go for a bike ride outside the gate and down the lane. After pleading with her, her mother finally allowed her to go, insisting that she kept close to the house and didn’t wander too far. The day was beautiful and the little girl knew exactly where she was heading! Down the lane and across the valley, she rode her bike until she got to the gate of the golden house across on the other hill.

As she dismounted her bike and lent it against the gate post, she focused on the path that lead to the house and then on the house itself…and was so disappointed as she realized all the windows were plain and rather dirty, reflecting nothing other than the sad neglect of the house that stood derelict.

So sad she didn’t go any further and turned, heart broken as she remounted her bike … As she glanced up she saw a sight to amaze her…there across the way on her side of the valley was a little house and its windows glistened golden …as the sun shone on her little home.

She realized that she had been living in her golden house and all the love and care she found there was what made her home the ‘golden house’. Everything she dreamed was right there in front of her nose!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Learn from Mistakes

One of the most popular story was that of Edison relating to his inability to invent the electric bulb. Thomas Edison tried two thousand different materials in search of a filament for the light bulb. When none worked satisfactorily, his assistant complained, “All our work is in vain. We have learned nothing.” Edison replied very confidently, “Oh, we have come a long way and we have learned a lot. We know that there are two thousand elements which we cannot use to make a good light bulb.

Story of thief and robber

O nce a wolf was roaming about in a field of grass where a flock of sheep came grazing everyday. He was hiding behind a bush. Getting a chance, he carried away a lamb to eat it at a safe place. Unfortunately, a lion came there, snatched the lamb and went to his den to eat it at leisure. When the lion had walked just a few steps away, the wolf said, "It is down daylight robbery- so unjust for a lion to snatch my morsel from me. It is below his dignity." Hearing the wolf's grumble, the lion laughed and replied, "A thief is questioning a robber- how strange! Did you get this lamb as a gift from a friend? You stole it out of a flock. Was that fair?" A sin is a sin- whether big or small. Moral of the story- A THIEF CAN'T QUESTION A ROBBER

On the way to the sun !

He had journeyed a long way, and was very tired. It seemed like a dream when he stood up after a  sleep  in  the field , and looked over the wall, and saw  the garden , and  the flowers , and  the children  playing all about. He looked at  the long  road behind him, at the dark wood and the barren hills; it was the world to which he belonged. He looked at the garden before him, at  the big  house, and the terrace, and the steps that led down to the smooth lawn—it was the world which belonged to the children. "Poor boy," said the elder child, "I will get you something to eat." "But where did he come from?" the gardener asked. "We do not know," the child   answered ; "but he is very hungry, and mother says we may give him some food." "I will take him some milk," said the little one; in one hand she carried a mug and with the other she pulled along her little broken cart. "But what is he called?" asked the garden...