About the Author
Bettie B. Youngs, Ph.D., Ed.D., is the critically acclaimed author of thirty-six books translated into twenty-four languages. Dr. Youngs is a former Teacher-of-the-Year, and University Professor of Educational Administration and Management, Graduate Division. Currently she is Executive Director of Professional Development Services, Inc. Widely considered an expert with a pulse on social issues influencing family and workplace issues, she is a frequent guest on television and radio talk shows, including The Today Show, NBC Nightly News, CNN, Oprah, Good Morning America and The View.
Though Bettie's earlier work focused predominately on education and developmental issues for youth, family and educators, in recent years she is best known for her series of poignantly written short-story books that clearly and warmly elucidate the human spirit, captivating the American psyche and winning her wide-range appeal with audiences young and old alike.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The Little Glass Chip Quite often my mother would ask me to set the family table with "the good china." As is often the case, china was a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation and held in the highest regard. My mother ordered the table to be set with the china quite frequently, but I never questioned these occasions. I assumed they were just my mother's desire or momentary whims and did what I was asked. One evening as I was setting the table, our neighbor Marge dropped by unexpectedly. She knocked at the door and Mom, busy at the stove, called to her to come in. Marge entered the large kitchen and, glancing at the beautifully set table, remarked, "Oh, I see you're expecting company. I'll come back another time. I should have called first, anyway." "No, no, it's all right," replied my mother. "We're not expecting company." "Well then," said Marge, with a puzzled look on her face, "why would you have the good china out? Gosh, I'd never trust my son to handle my grandmother's dishes. I'm so afraid they'll get broken, I use them only twice a year, if that." "Because," my mom answered, laughing softly, presumably because she found it silly that Marge should use her china so infrequently, "I've prepared my family's favorite meal. If you set your best table for guests and outsiders when you prepare a special meal, why not for your own family? They're as special as anyone I can think of." "Well, yes, but your beautiful china will get chipped," responded Marge, still not understanding the importance of the value my mother had assigned to esteeming her family in this way. "And then you won't have it to pass on to your children." "Oh well," said Mom, casually, "a few chips in the china are a small price to pay for the joy we get using it. Besides," she added with a twinkle in her eyes, "all these chips have a story to tell, now don't they?" She looked at Marge as though a woman with a family of her own should have known this. Marge still didn't get it. Mom walked to the cupboard and took down a plate. Holding it up, she said, "See this chip? I was 17 when this happened. I'll never forget that day." My mother's voice softened and she seemed to be remembering another time. "One fall day my brothers needed help putting up the last of the season's hay, so they hired a strong young man to help out." Mom paused, then continued. "My mother had asked me to go to the hen house to gather fresh eggs. It was then when I first noticed this very handsome young man. I stopped and watched for a moment as he picked up the large and heavy bales of freshly cut hay and slung them up and over his shoulder, tossing them effortlessly into the hay loft. I tell you, he was one gorgeous man: lean, slim-waisted, with powerful arms and shiny, thick sandy-blonde hair. He must have felt my presence because with a bale of hay in mid-air, he stopped and turned and looked at me, and just smiled. He was so incredibly handsome," she said slowly, ru
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
