You'd always be my number one boy, we'll celebrate you home.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009


A very special story I'd like to share.
From RL's 18.

The Rich Poor Man

Charlie Chan was a young immigrant from China who toiled hard and saved as much as he could. He invested his money carefully and, over time, grew to be rich.

Despite his newfound wealth, Charlie was content with the simple life. Home was a one-room apartment in Chinatown. He never felt the need to move from his humble surrounds. After work, he returned home to watch TV to unwind before falling asleep.

When he reached his seventies, Charlie's body showed signs of slowing and he was forced his own mortality. A regular churchgoer, he spent time praying and thinking of all the good he could have done.

One night, an angel appeared to him.

"God has heard your prayers and will grant you three wishes"," said the angel, adding that each wish came with a price. "The more you ask, the higher the price."

Charlie thanked God for answering his prayers and proceeded with his first wish. "I want the poor in Chinatown to have enough food, clothing and shelter."

The angel smiled. "It'll lost you all your wealth," he said. Charlie's heart skipped a beat. The money was his life savings but decided it would be useless when he was dead.

His wish was granted and when he checked his POSB account, all he had left was $200. But all around Chinatown, he saw smiling faces and happy children.

Charlie knew what he wanted next. He had been in and out of Singapore General Hospital of late. "Heal the sick in the hospital I go to."

"The price," said the angel, "is your own health."

"Oh dear," he said, flinching.

He was getting on, he reasoned, and even if he could live longer, it really would mean more pain. He thought of patients in SGH and agreed to pay the price.

The patients recovered, surprising doctors and patients alike. But pain wracked every fibre of Charlie's shrivelled body.

His enthusiasm for wishes waned and he prayed for patience instead. In church, his pastor spoke of a six-year-old girl, a violin prodigy. She was suffering from leukaemia. Her parents, the owners of a struggling independent bookstore, happened to be seated in front of Charlie. They held each other, sobbing.

"I wish for her recovery," prayed Charlie.

"That'll mean you'll die before the year ends," said the angel, sighing.

Despite his suffering, Charlie yearned for life. Every morning brought with it a hope that life would turn for the better and that the angel would grant him all his desires of his heart. A teary Charlie agreed to the price and the child made a miraculous recovery.

As Christmas Eve descended on Singapore, carols could be heard and there was merry-making all across the land. Charlie lay on his bed, his life ebbing away. He was alone, in pain and his heart was about to break.

In church, worshippers were shaking hands with one another at the stroke of midnight when the grand chandelier, which hung proudly in the sanctuary, fell inexplicably, shattering into a million pieces. At the same moment, Charlie gave up the ghost.

They found him on his bed the next day; a small Christmas tree with flickering lights in a corner.

Meanwhile, God looked down from heaven and spied a soul so beautiful that he wanted in heaven with himself. The angel visited Charlie one last time and gently lifted his soul.

"There's a wish I have go grant," said the angel to Charlie.

"But... but..." muttered Charlie.

"It's not your wish but God's," said the angel. "And God wants you to be with him forever and ever."


10:44 AM



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