just like the one we ate at at home was set with three places. There were also three bowls containing potatoes, string beans and cabbage, a platter of what appeared to be beef, and a large pitcher of water.
I looked about and saw no one. How odd, I thought, that such a sumptuous meal had been prepared and there was no one around to eat it. Of course, I was fearful of what would happen to me if I began to eat and the owners of the house came in and discovered me. But my hunger overcame my fear, and I loaded one of the plates with meat and vegetables and quickly devoured it all. Then I ate a second helping almost as large as the first and washed it all down with two tall glasses of water.
I was full to overflowing and enjoying my sudden turn of luck when I heard a voice from behind. ADid you enjoy your dinner?@ it asked. .I was so surprised that I almost fell off my chair. I stood up rapidly and turned to face my inquisitor.
I know I must have turned pale with fright because standing opposite me was a man who looked exactly like my father; yet, I knew he was not my father, just as the house was not my house although it was so similar. Yet, I could not help but ask, AAre you my father?@
ANo, child, but I am what your father might one day be.@
I didn=t understand the man=s answer, but I knew he might be angry. I stammered an apology for intruding as I had and for having eaten so much. I assured the man that I had intended no harm but had gotten lost in the woods and was so famished that I would have fainted had I not had something to eat. The man stood silently observing me as I continued to run on with my excuses and explanations.
Soon, though, he lifted his hand in a clear signal that I was to be silent. AYou are welcome here,@ he said gently. AI prepared the table for you, and I knew full well that you would eat your fill. You ran away from home, didn=t you?@
I hung my head, afraid to look into his face. AYes, I did. But I was going to run back to my parents when the path was blocked by the forest, so I had to keep going. I would have become hopelessly lost if I had tried to find my way without the path to follow.@
AWhy did you run away, my son?@
ABecause my parents don=t love me,@ I responded earnestly. Having said this, I found tears welling up in my eyes. I felt ashamed, ashamed of my tears, ashamed of accusing my parents of failing to love me. And, yet, why should I be ashamed because I felt sure I had spoken the truth.
AYour parents love in their own way,@ the man replied gently. AThere are many people in the world who love, but who do not know how to express their love. Some express their love in ways that do not seem like love. Or, even worse, some love but are afraid to show their love.@
ABut why,@ I asked, Awould my father or mother not know how to show me they really loved me. Or why would they be afraid to love?@
AThose who themselves have never been well loved have never learned how to give love well. One must have been loved well himself to be able to love others well.
AThose who have tried to love and had their love ridiculed or rejected are often afraid to show their love again to others. Love is the gift of ourselves. The one you love holds your heart in his hands, and if the one you love abuses that love, or cruelly rejects it, your heart is grievously wounded, your soul is torn, and you are afraid to risk enduring such pain again by loving another.@
AIs that then,@ I asked, Awhat happened to my parents that they had such trouble loving me? Did I somehow reject their love so that they felt they could not trust me with their love again?@
ANo, my child, that is not what happened. Your parents never learned to love themselves so they could not then love others. They had been abused when they were young and made to believe they had little value to anyone, that they were bad children and unworthy of being loved. And, for this reason, they hated themselves. Self-hatred is a terrible disease that must be cured before the sick person can love both himself and another.@
AWill my parents, then, ever be cured of this disease?@
AIf you learn how to love them in spite of their inability to return your love. If you can show them a love that they have never before experienced, this may cure them. But this is a difficult and painful task. You yourself will feel great pain in the process of healing your parents.@
ACan I try then to heal them?@
ANo, my child, you are not yet strong or wise enough to attempt this yet.@
AThen how do I become strong and wise enough?@
AYou have begun that process here in this house. I have shown you love by letting you enter and feeding you. I could have locked the door against you, or I could have punished you for stealing my food, even though you were starving, and I gave you cold water to quench your great thirst. But you still have much more to learn before you can teach your parents to love.@
AHow, then, can I learn it?@
AYou must leave this house now. The path back to your parents is open now. You can return today, if you wish. Because you are still young in the lessons of love, you cannot yet teach others how to love. But the choice is yours. If you return now, at least you will understand your parents better, even though you will not be able to help them.
ABut I will give you something to help you whatever your decision may be.@
The man went into the kitchen and returned quickly with a small box. AAfter you leave here, but not before, you may open this box. Treasure what you find inside. You will not realize its value at first, but, as you learn to use it, you will want it with you always. Now go.@
AWhere shall I go?@ I asked anxiously as I took the box from his outstretched hand. But by the time I got the words out of my mouth, my benefactor had vanished.
I searched the house, calling for him, but I could not find him. I glanced at the dining room table. It was now bare. I opened the front door and stepped outside. The paint seemed duller and more blistered than it was when I had entered. The grass that was so green seemed more withered.
I walked back to the path, clutching the box tightly. The path was open behind me as far as I could see. I was certain that if I followed it back, I would be able to reach my home again. I thought of what the man had said. Perhaps he would give me better instructions if I returned to the house again and asked him. He must still be there somewhere, even if he was hiding from me.
I turned to looked toward the house, but it had vanished along with the clearing in which it stood. I saw only a wall of trees. I was still for several minutes, thinking of how strange this all was. I was not frightened, only puzzled.
What was in the box? I quickly snapped open the cover and peered inside. The treasure in the box was a small mirror. What was I to do with a mirror? Well, the man had said that it was valuable, and his house was clearly a magical house. He himself had to be a powerful sorcerer. So the mirror must be a magic mirror. But what was its magic?
I had to decide: go home or continue down the path wherever it led. I set off down the path in the direction away from my home.
The Magic Mirror
I was still walking on the path leading away from my home. It was, as best I could judge, late in the afternoon, and there was no end in sight to this seemingly endless forest. Though I had had a fine meal and had drunk my fill at the house, I was now thirsty again. Of course, I realized that night would fall in a few hours, and I had no place to sleep except in the awful darkness of the forest.
I had taken the mirror I had been given and placed it in a pocket in my shirt. I had looked into it only briefly before storing it away and noticed nothing special about it. It seemed like quite an ordinary mirror, but the man had told me that it was a special mirror, a magic mirror. Perhaps it could help me now.
I took it out of my pocket and looked into it. At first I saw only my reflection, or, at least, what I thought was my reflection because the face in the mirror seemed older that I was, even though the face was clearly my own. What good did it do me to look at my face? I began to think the man had played a joke on me.
; AMagic mirror,@ I thought to myself, Aif you are magic, show me how to get out this forest.@
To my amazement, the image in the mirror changed. I could see the path and the trees, but the path soon opened out into a broad meadow. I could see from the pale light in the sky over the meadow that it was early evening, and the sun was setting. I took all of this to mean that if I kept moving down the path that I would leave the forest around evening and emerge into the meadow that the mirror was showing me.
With renewed energy, I started down the path again, forgetting my thirst, and, hopeful, that I would soon find . . .find what? I would find a meadow, but what then? The question to that question would have to wait. In the meantime, I wanted more than anything else to get out of the forest before night fell and I would again find myself in total darkness.
Just as the mirror had told me, I stumbled out of the forest into a broad meadow just as the sun was setting. The sky was cloudless, so I would have at least the light of the moon and stars to sleep by. I was so tired that I slumped into the soft grass and lay on my back, looking up as the sky darkened and the stars flickered on. A quarter moon hung to my left about half-way down the horizon. It glowed ever brighter as the dusk faded into the evening. Countless stars formed a canopy above me. A particularly bright spot near the moon had to be a planet, but I did not know which one it was.
I lay there marveling at the glory above me revealed by the darkened sky. Never before had I appreciated the beauty of the night sky or realized how numerous were the stars. With the grass as my mattress and the sky as the roof above me, I was soon fast asleep.
When I awoke, light was spread across the sky in the direction of the rising sun. Now that I was rested and awake, I could no longer ignore my intense thirst and growing hunger. Of course, I had no idea whatsoever where I was, except that I was now safely outside the forest. The path ended at the edge of the forest, and the trees formed a wall barely a stone=s throw away.
The day was growing lighter, and I could see a house about a quarter mile away. Was it an enchanted house like the one I had visited in the forest, or a real house in which real people lived? But the magic of the forest was also real. I had experienced it for myself. What is the difference between magic houses and real houses? Well, I supposed, real houses do not suddenly disappear.
I got up and started toward the house. When I reached it, I saw a car parked in the driveway and a dirt road that bordered its front lawn. The car appeared quite old and well-worn, but, unlike my parents, the people of this house were at least prosperous enough to own a car. I was hoping that the presence of the car indicated that someone was home, I walked quickly to the front door and knocked loudly.
I waited a minute or so and knocked again. I tried the handle but the door was locked. At last I heard someone undo the latch. The door opened. Facing me was a stooped, old woman not more than five feet tall wearing a red and white checkered apron over a green smock. The skin of her face was heavily wrinkled, and her hair was white as white could be. She was thin and her arms were so skinny as to let their bones stand out. Her appearance might well have frightened me that it not been for the kindness I saw in her face.. Her eyes were a deep brown and shown like jewels. When I looked into those eyes, I found I could not be afraid.
AYes, son,@ she said gently, Awhat do you want?@
AI ran away from parents who don=t love me,@ I blurted, Aand I am thirsty and hungry and lost.@ Now I was near tears. AWill you help me?@ I asked, half whimpering.
ASamuel, come here,@ the woman turned and called. I saw a man as old and wrinkled as the woman walk slowly up behind