The life we mold

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a place where the water was pure and clear. The grass was greener than you've ever seen and the flowers gave off a delicious scent that drifted through the air with the gentle breezes. In this very special place children were more precious than anything else you could imagine. Family and friends came from miles around to see each baby soon after they were born.

Late at night after each child was born, when the moon was high in the sky and the sun was asleep, the stars twinkled like diamonds and magic would happen. Like a gift from above, a smooth shiny, silky bag with a gold thread drawstring appeared in the cradle next to the infant.

Inside this bag was a mound of clay. This wasn't just any ordinary mound of clay, it was very special. Each day this clay had to be molded and handled with care. Something to be proud of was to be transformed. An infant was too small to do this, so the Mom, Dad and everyone that loved the child had to help. If nothing was done with the clay then it would just dry up and become waste.

So each day the Mom, Dad and everyone who loved the baby, did their best to make something beautiful, something to be proud of, and something to cherish.

As the baby grew into a young child, they had some ideas of their own about what they wanted to make with the clay. The Mom, Dad and everyone that loved the child were so proud. It was exciting to watch this child mold and shape something beautiful, something to be proud of, and something to cherish.

Some parents didn't take the time to help the child to mold the clay; they didn't teach the child to handle it carefully. They didn't make something beautiful, something to be proud of and something to cherish. The clay was left there to dry up and become hard. Soon it would be too much trouble to ever try to do anything with it. Sometimes you could, but it would take a long time and it would be very hard.

Such a magical gift should have been handled each and every day, because one day the child would grow up and would need to know what to do with this special clay. The child would need to be able to shape it into something beautiful, something to be proud of and something to cherish. How would the child learn this and what would become of the magical clay if they never ever tried? Surely someone could help the child....if the child let them. It is now time for the child to decide that for themselves.

Someday, after a long, long time, when the child has become an adult and has had many years to mold their magical clay, it is time to look back at all that they have done with it. The clay is running out and each night less and less is being sent to them. The time has come to decide if they have made something beautiful, something to be proud of and something to cherish. There isn't time to make any changes, there isn't time to ask for help, there is only time for one more thing.... It is time to decide if they did their best.

It was ok to make mistakes sometimes and it was okay to be disappointed with what they made on some days. It was just important that they tried. If they could look back and believe that they had done their best and they were pleased, then slowly their magical clay would begin to glow. The clay would begin to rise up to the clouds and into a place where it would be looked after forever, a place where it was warm and peaceful.

If after looking back at what they had done with their magical clay, they were not truly pleased then the clay would crumble and topple and fall apart. It would be a waste, it would dry up and drift away.....

....on the gentle breeze that circled the land where the water was pure and clear, and the grass was greener than anything you had ever seen before, and the flowers gave off a delicious scent.

...and a new life to mold is born as the cycle renews. Diana Foerster would like to dedicate this story, that she created, to her children, her children's children, and her great grandchildren. At bedtime, Diana would recite this story to her three children, Heather, Clint and Sheila. This will be forever cherished as a family treasure. Thanks Mom!!!