Spiritism For Kids

por Célia Xavier de Camargo

 

Tears of regret


Cyrus enjoyed playing in the backyard of his house. In the cozy shade of a large tree, he spent hours, distracted by his toys.

It was a cool and pleasant place, where sunlight was filtered softly, and where, often, he even fell asleep with his head resting on its powerful roots, tired of playing.

The tree was a beautiful hose and it produced tasty fruits, which Cyrus harvested with his own hands when he felt hungry.

Despite of all this, Cyrus was a boy full of wills, and one day he began to entangle the tree, wishing to cut it.

Coming up to his mother, he said:

- Mom, I want you to have the hose cut off.

Surprised, the mother replied,

- Why, my son? You've always liked it so much!

Hitting his foot on the ground, the boy replied:

- I don’t like it anymore, now. It takes a lot of space, makes a lot of shade and is messing around in the yard.

Startled, she said:

- Think about it, my son. Trees must be preserved, because they are very useful and take years to grow and produce. This our hose gives delicious mangoes and in its cozy branches the birds make their nests and...

- I don’t care, Mom! - Interrupted the capricious boy. - I want you to put it down."

When the father arrived, after work, he was informed of his son's demand.

A new dialogue was established, trying to make him give up the idea. All in vain. Did not worth advice and pondering, arguments and reprimands. Cyrus was irreducible.

He shouted, cried and complained so much, that his parents, even though they considered his wish absurd, decided to do his will. After all, he was a single child! And what was he asked that his parents would not give him?

The next day, with a bitter heart, his father had the beautiful tree cut. Cyrus was happy. Each blow that struck on the trunk he smiled. At the end, the man finished the service. There was only one stump of the beautiful hose.

Cyrus was satisfied and went playing. However, the very strong sun hurt his eyes and the heat was excessive. In a few minutes he was tired and full of sweat. He decided to enter.

The mother, who watched him from afar, asked:

- Are you not going to play anymore, Cyrus?

Disappointed, the boy replied:

- I'm tired. The sun is very hot today.

- Do you want something to eat? - Said the mother affectionately.

- Yes mom. I would like a mango.

- Oh, my son, we have no more mangoes. Did you forget that the hose was destroyed? I gave the leftovers for the gardener to take!

Cyrus sat down on the steps of the kitchen, looking at the yard that seemed so strangely empty now.

He watched many birds that seemed to be flying at random, with no place to stay.

Cyrus remembered that he had seen several nests on the fallen branches and realized that these birds had lost their houses. He also noticed that they were hungry, looking for crumbs on the floor to eat.

As the days passed, Cyrus became more and more regretful of the decision he had made.

He did not play in the yard anymore. Everything had gone bland, there was no tree to climb, the sun was inclement and burned everything.

Sighing, one day he approached to the stump, now dark and withered, and, hugging what was left of the hose, gave vent to his sadness. In tears, he began to say:

- I'm very sorry, my friend. You do not know how much I miss you. I did not know you were so important to us, and now nothing's funny. There is no more shadow for me to play under it and the sun burns me. The birds did not know what to do, like me, and they left, in search of other warm branches. Ah! If I could go back! Now I understand why they say that we need to take care of the ecology, preserving the trees. Without you, everything is barren and ugly...

Cyrus cried... cried a lot, hugged to the remains of his old companion.

His tears of regret, however, dampened the parched trunk, and a few days later, as he approached it, Cyrus had a greatly surprised. From the middle of the trunk, fragile shoots and greens emerged as hope for a new life inside it.

Full of joy, Cyrus realized that the miracle of life was repeated, and that the tree would grow again, with the blessing of God!

 

TIA CÉLIA

 

 

Translation: 

Larissa Martine - larissa_am@hotmail.com

 

 

     
     

O Consolador
 Revista Semanal de Divulgação Espírita