Many centuries ago in the Middle East, a man in simple garb walked the streets as the shining light and staff for all those who yearned to be true human beings.
One day, a woman condemned by the society as a harlot and thus treated with the utmost disrespect came to the end of her road. She could no longer go on living as a pariah and saw in this great man, whom they called “Master,” her only hope for a better existence.
She stood for hours, struggling through the crowd without success to get closer to the Master as He addressed the multitude, so she waited until the crowd dispersed. As He turned to leave, she ran towards His direction and called out to Him. She was speechless when she stood before Him and bowed her head as she could not bear the Light that emanated from the Master’s face.
“You wish to speak to me? Tell me what you want, the Master said.”
She lost her shyness and said in a weary voice: “See how they all despise me, Master! I cannot speak in their presence. Indeed they make it impossible for me to lead a different life again. They always remind me of my sin, and shun me wherever they see me. They take their children away when I walk in the street, and threaten to stone me.”
The Master said nothing, He walked quietly on, and the woman remained by His side without any objection from Him. He left the town, and still the woman walked by the side of the Master. And hours went by.
Then the Master halted. “What do you hope for from me, that you do not go home?”
“A word of advice, Sir.”
“When I asked what you wanted you made accusations! You had nothing but complaints and lamentations. That is why I could not help you. Now I will give you advice. Go to another country and begin the new life for which you long. Work from morning till night in order to forget the past. You are young, and can still make up for all that you have neglected.”
…….
Daily, hourly, creation says the same to us, “Tell me what you want.” We respond by the nature of our innermost thoughts, words, and deeds. Help cannot reach the man who whines and complains, it simply finds no connection. It however unfailingly reaches him who makes the effort to seek humbly and live honorably, often times coming when least expected.

“My only request for my memorial service is that it should be short; do not mention any of my accomplishments or say that I was a good man, simply say that I was a man who strove to be good.” Prasanna Patel said to his grand-daughter.
“I heard the killers call my name. A jolt of terror shot through me, why did they call out my name- how did they know I was here? Were they coming to the bathroom? … They were yelling at the pastor, accusing and threatening him. ‘Where is she?’ Find her… find Immaculée. ‘I have killed 399 cockroaches, Immaculée will make 400. It’s a good number to kill.'”*
Patricia took her four year old daughter, Audrey, to the park as she does every Saturday morning. Audrey excitedly ran towards the slides while Patricia sat on one of the park benches. She whipped out her phone to check her “to do list” for the day and realized that she is yet to get a Mothers Day gift for her mother.