Dear Venerina,
I love your forum. It is sad but true that it takes some wear and tear to open our hearts to others. The following happened to me when my heart was shiny and new.
When I was a youngster I used to love to visit my grandmother's home. She was a natural cook and it seemed that everything she made came out delicious. But it was her pies that were so special. She made them all from scratch and the crusts were so flaky that sometimes she would bake a little one just for me that was just crust. I'd put a little sugar and cinnamon on it and, oh! what a treat. What was amazing about Grandmother Elizabeth's ability was this. She baked on an old coal-fired stove. The firebox was on the left and the oven was next to it; no thermostats; no oven temperature gauge. How she managed to bake so well using this arrangement, I still don't know.
One evening I was eating dinner at her home when my Aunt Mary, who lived nearby, joined us and brought a pie that she had baked. Unfortunately Mary did not have Grandmother's talent or skill. The pie crust was tough as old leather. Being a smart-mouthed kid, I told her so. She didn't get angry at all. She just looked at me with tearful eyes and said so softly, I could hardly hear her. "I did my best." Suddenly I realized how much I had hurt this kind woman who only loved me. I started to cry and I told her how sorry I was. She hugged me and told me it was okay. But it wasn't okay to me.
There is a children's saying; "Sticks and stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me." It is wrong. Sticks and stones may break our bones but words can devastate us. It's a lesson I've never forgotten.
Sincerely,
Richard
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