Timmy's Wish

来源:http://www.putclub.com 2019-04-17

 

It was under an old Banyan tree on the school playground in Hawai`i that I first met Timmy. I was an elementary school teacher and he was a gregarious five-year-old. As the school year progressed, a special friendship between us began to evolve. It was the 'Summer Fun Program' at our school that really brought us together.
One day in mid-August, I was in the school office when Timmy's teacher came running in with Timmy. He was sobbing and the teacher was nearly hysterical. The bathroom door had slammed on his finger. She had a handkerchief wrapped around Timmy's index finger and wasn't sure how much of it was left because it was bleeding so much. Our school bus driver rushed them immediately to the Emergency Room.

A few minutes later the phone rang at the school. It was the doctor asking if we had found the tip of Timmy's finger. He said there was a small chance of saving it if we could get it to him quickly. Pulling myself out of a daze, I ran to the bathroom. Sure enough, there it was. After carefully wrapping it up, I grabbed my car keys and headed for the emergency unit.

The doctor was waiting for me. Unfortunately, the fingertip had already turned blue. As he took the tiny piece of flesh in his hand, I knew from the look on his face that it was too late. With a sinking heart I quietly asked, "Where's Timmy?"

The doctor pointed to a room down the hall. "He's soaking his finger in a solution to stop the bleeding."

"Can I see him for a few minutes?" I asked.

"Of course," he said and gestured toward the door.

Timmy was lying on a flat gurney. He must have been sobbing a lot because his chest was still heaving as I approached the bed.

"Hi, Timmy," I said, gently brushing the tears from his cheeks. "How are you doing?"  

"Okay," he whimpered, trying to hold back his tears.      #p#副标题#e#

I felt helpless, unable to take the pain away from my little friend. Then suddenly, an idea came to me. Bending over, I whispered in his ear, "Timmy, did you know that geckos [our Hawaiian lizards] grow their tails back and little boys can grow their fingers back too?"

Timmy's soft green eyes grew wide with excitement. "They can?" he asked, obviously astonished by the thought.

"Yep, they can!" I answered with certainty.

"How?" he asked.

"Close your eyes and I'll show you." I wanted to teach him the ancient Hawaiian methods of visual imagery and affirmations that I had learned in my youth. I had studied this process under the tutelage of special kupunas, or elders. My family has lived in the Hawaiian Islands for five generations. As we enter this new century, I find it encouraging that researchers at major universities are now validating this ancient wisdom. William A. Tiller, Professor Emeritus, of Stanford University has said, " Many people still find it difficult to understand how the invisible energy of a wish can change the way the world works. However, extensive research already exists on the demonstrable effects of our wishes." **

As Timmy closed his eyes, I began, "Good. Now Timmy, inside your head you have a little voice. Do you know the voice I am talking about?"

"Uh-huh." Timmy nodded, his eyes still closed tightly.

"With that voice inside your head, tell your finger how much you love it and how much you need it." I could see Timmy's little face focused in deep concentration. "Tell your finger that you need it to dial the phone." I paused, watching his little lips silently repeat my words. "And to write your sentences in school." I paused again so he could say the words after me. "And tell it how much you need it to point at things." I waited for another moment and then continued, "Now just say, grow for me finger, grow. I love you and I need you."

After a few moments, Timmy opened his eyes.

"How was that?" I asked.

Timmy's tear-stained face glowed. I continued, "Remember to do this every time you think of it during the day and wish your finger well."

Kissing him on the forehead, I said my good-byes and started toward the door. Then I suddenly realized something. If the adults in his life are not aware of the real power of this technique, they might discourage him. Not wanting limiting beliefs to swallow up Timmy's possibilities for a miracle, I spun around and returned to his bedside.

Timmy," I told him, "your finger is going to be perfectly fine. Let's wait until it's completely healed before we tell anybody about this special technique.

"Okay," he replied.

A few days later, Timmy arrived back in school with a large bandage on his finger. With a big grin on his face, he walked up to me and said quietly, "I'm talking to my finger every day, wishing it well, and it's listening to me."

Weeks later, with a joyful burst of energy, Timmy sprinted towards me. He proudly pulled the bandage off to show me the result if 'his work.' "See," he said, "It's growing back really good!"
A year later, Timmy came to say good-bye to me. He and his family were moving to another neighborhood. Timmy's finger was completely healed. It was round and padded just as any index finger should be. Only a fine hairline scar remained.

Timmy remains forever in my heart as a constant reminder of the possibility of miracles. From him, I have learned to challenge the thought of failure as it comes into my mind. To this day, Timmy inspires me to reach beyond the accepted knowledge of the times, and to remember the kupuna wisdom that teaches all things are possible if you truly believe.

 




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