Small Wheels & Big Bumps

The snow in B.C. is beautiful and it really looks like a white Christmas. However, snow presents some challenges for drivers on the sideroads and freeways. Our little street seldom gets a snowplow and has never been sanded, but we get out just fine. Last night, I was clearing the light powdery snow from the sidewalk in front of our property, because last year about this time I got a real reality check for how important this act is.

It happened like this...

My granddaughter, was spending the afternoon at an office very near my house. When her mother phoned to say that she would not be able to pick her up after work, I gladly volunteered to do that for her.

Since my van does not have a lift for her power wheelchair, I decided to walk to meet Tessa and we would come back to my house. As I started walking I realized we had a problem. The main roads were clear, but my street was still slushy and snowy and many of the sidewalks had not been cleared. So I returned to my house for a shovel and proceeded to remove snow and chip ice patches all along the route. (major job)

The ride home was more than challenging for Tessa, because every patch of ice was scary and snow clumps resulted in painful, bumpy hurdles.

Please remember this. Disabled people are virtually shut- in their homes till the snow disappears unless someone kindly clears their path for them.

A Story

A story is told of a multi-millionaire who lived in a beautiful vast estate. Besides all his wealth, his life revolved around his son. They enjoyed a wonderful father-son relationship and travelled all around the world. Their passion was collecting art, paintings and sculptures done by famous artists. Years went by and then the son felt the call to enlist in the army to defend his country.
Father was disappointed, and at first resentful of his choice.

The father missed his son greatly and was devasted when he received a call saying that his son was missing in action. Soon it was confirmed that he had been killed while trying to save one of his comrades.
In deep grief, the father mourned this great loss and went into seclusion. Day after day he sat alone in the vast rooms of his mansion, staring at the priceless paintings he and his son had purchased. They held no charm, worth or interest anymore.
When there was a knock at the door on Christmas morning, he instructed his butler to tell the caller to leave, as he was not receiving visitors. The servant came back saying, "Sir, it is a young soldier, who wishes to speak to you." He was allowed entrance.
He said, "I am the soldier, your son gave up his own life for."

The lad stayed for hours telling the father of many occasions where his son had put his life on the line for his fellowmen. How he had talked lovingly about his father and the good times they had together collecting all those treasures of art. Pride for his son grew in the dear father's heart.
The soldier shared that he, himself, also loved art and then, somewhat embarrassed, showed the father a painting he had done of his son. The resemblance was faint but the father graciously received it as a precious gift.
Several months later, the old man passed away. Instructions in his will said that an auction of all his artworks should be held on Christmas Day. The news spread, and art collectors from around the world arrived for the grand affair.

The auctioneer began with the first item - the soldiers' painting of the son.
The buyers jeered and heckled, calling out for the real art. The auctioneer replied, "The will states that this one must be sold first, so what am I bid?"
There was a long awkward silence. No buyers were interested. Finally a poor, elderly neighbour put up his hand. "Will you take ten dollars?" he said hesitatingly.

Going Once, Going Twice, SOLD!

Anxious buyers were now ready to begin bidding on the valuable art and were shocked when the auctioneer proclaimed, "The auction is now over. The will states that whoever buys the painting of the Son, gets it all!"