The Real Beauty . . .
"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled
in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she
gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window.
The baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was
perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred. When he rushed home
from school one day and flung himself
into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a
succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy ... called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favourite with his fellow
students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a
gift, a talent for literature and music. "But you might mingle with other
young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.
The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be
done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be
procured," the doctor decided.
Then the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a
young man. Two years went by. Then, "You are going to the hospital, Son.
Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a
secret," said the father.
The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents
blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.
Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must know!" He
urged his father, "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for
him." "I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was
that you are not to know, not yet."
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come ... one of the
darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his
mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father
stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal
that the mother -- had no outer ears.
"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered
gently, "and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they?" Real
beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure
lies not in what that can be seen; but what, that cannot be seen.
Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but
not known . . .
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