“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 favorite 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.
Whereupon,
the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.
Two years went by.
Then
his father said, “You are going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone
who will donate the ears you need. But, it’s a secret who it is.”
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. It was one of the
darkest days that ever pass through a son. 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 can be seen, but in what cannot be seen. Real love lies not in
what is done and known, but in what is done and not known.
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