Once upon a time there was an old lady who lived in a small village. She was very poor and had almost no possessions with the exception of her tattered house and a single chicken. But this chicken was no ordinary chicken. Every morning the chicken would lay a golden egg which the old lady could use to live her life like any other person of decent wealth.
One day a simple man from the town passed by the old lady’s home and watched as she collected the golden egg from her chicken’s nest. As he watched in utter disbelief the man waited greedily for the old lady to disappear so that he may steal this fortunate chicken all for himself. The next day, when the old lady came to collect her golden egg, the chicken was gone.
You could only imagine how overjoyed the thief was at his new found fortune. But the most unusual thing started to happen. Out of nowhere the thief began to grow feathers with each passing day he used to the chicken for his own benefit. He went to every doctor in the village but no one could cure this most unusual disease.
One doctor on the other hand had witnessed a similar happening before. So when the thief approached him, the doctor tricked him into confessing his crime. With this new found information the doctor went to the old lady and asked her about this stolen chicken. Her only reply was, “I put my trust in God to deal with those who did me wrong.” With this response, the doctor kept nagging the old lady, “But this thief has stolen everything you have…your only ability to lead a normal life! And this is all you say?” The old lady felt fury inside. Now outraged the old lady cursed the thief, wishing him harm and misfortune. The second these words left her mouth…the feathers of the thief began to disappear. Turns out that as long as the old lady had been willing and kept her faith in God, the thief would forever regret his actions. But the second she cursed in his name, then his actions would go by unnoticed and neglected.
Keep your hand in God’s hand and he will never do you wrong.
: : : I heard myself say things that I take back. If I could re-tale, and make these stories last. I see shadows of who we’ll always be as I drive down these roads made of memories : : :
— Shadows and Regrets, Yellowcard —