Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Little Man Who Barked.

I knew this tiny man once—teeny-tiny, no bigger than your thumb. But he would yelp like a little dog. He was so tiny because he never got any sun to help him grow. From the day he was born he remained in his daddy’s shadow, this poor teeny-tiny man who yelped like a little dog.

His mom felt bad for him so she tied him to her apron strings, to keep him safe. With Mommy and Daddy’s protection he felt big and strong and would yelp at everyone, barking orders, commanding respect, even though yelping was all he ever did.
If anyone told him to be quiet he’d point to his dad and move in tight against his mom, and no one could touch him.

He made everyone’s life miserable but, since he was so little, they felt sorry for him and to his tiny brain that was like being in control, and he barked all the louder, putting everyone down since he didn’t have the ability to build himself up.

If you ever hear a little voice, barking away, telling you you’re not good enough, it’s just that little man who lives in his daddy’s shadow, tied to his mommy’s apron strings.

Barking is all he has. If you ignore him, he’s got nothing at all, no control and he’ll go away.

If he doesn’t, step on him.

That’d be okay, too.

Then focus your attention on the Big Guy who says that anything is possible and then do that anything with love and without barking.

Copyright © Colin Frizzell 2009. All rights reserved.

No comments:

Post a Comment