Sweetness of Sour Oranges:::::
He often bought oranges from an old lady.
After they were weighed, paid for and put in his bag, he would always pick one from his bag, peel it, put a segment in his mouth, complain it's sour and pass on the orange to the seller.
The old lady would put one segment in her mouth and retort, "why, it's sweet," but by then he was gone with his bag.
His wife, always with him, asked, "the oranges are always sweet, then why this drama every time?"
He smiled, "the old mother sells sweet oranges but never eats them herself. This way I get her to eat one, without losing her money. That's all."
The vegetable seller next to the old lady, saw this everyday.
She chided, "every time this man fusses over your oranges, and I see that you always weigh a few extra for him. Why?"
The old lady smiled, "I know he does this to feed me an orange, only, he thinks I don't understand. I never weigh extra. His love tilts the scale slightly every time."
Life's joys are in these sweet little gestures of love and respect for our fellow beings... and in giving, not usurping. Not in money.
He often bought oranges from an old lady.
The old lady would put one segment in her mouth and retort, "why, it's sweet," but by then he was gone with his bag.
His wife, always with him, asked, "the oranges are always sweet, then why this drama every time?"
He smiled, "the old mother sells sweet oranges but never eats them herself. This way I get her to eat one, without losing her money. That's all."
The vegetable seller next to the old lady, saw this everyday.
She chided, "every time this man fusses over your oranges, and I see that you always weigh a few extra for him. Why?"
The old lady smiled, "I know he does this to feed me an orange, only, he thinks I don't understand. I never weigh extra. His love tilts the scale slightly every time."
Life's joys are in these sweet little gestures of love and respect for our fellow beings... and in giving, not usurping. Not in money.
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