The old mother, in her bedroom down the corridor, cried out, “Where are you, my child?”

“Mother, please don’t disturb me this month, as I’m going to be very busy!” shouted her daughter tapping away on the keys of her phone.

“Busy doing what?” asked her mother, “I need to go to the bathroom, and my stomach is rumbling!”

“I hear the rumblings of others who need to hear my words,” said the daughter sharply, “I send them messages of hope and joy this December month, and I hope it lifts their spirits!”

“Child, what about the spirit of your mother?”

“Are the cries of those lonely people less important than yours mother?”

The mother looked around for her walking stick. She was generally afraid to walk by herself as she was afraid to fall again, but she knew that what she had to do she had to do right now, and so carefully and cautiously she hobbled to the sitting room, where her daughter was bent on her phone sending messages of love and joy.

“I always wonder whether God had a chisel!” said the mother as she heaved herself down on a chair in front of her daughter.

“Chisel, for what?” asked her daughter sharply.

“Chisel to have written all the commandments on the tablets He gave Moses! I would like to borrow that chisel!”

“You want to write something on stone?”

“Yes,” said the mother sadly, “on a stony heart!”

“And who’s heart would that be?” asked the daughter, still not looking up from her phone.

“The hearts of all those who think that writing words and messages, in WhatsApp groups, and emails, can ever replace kind actions and compassionate deeds!”

The daughter put her phone aside and looked up at her mother as she continued, “What happened to that colleague in your group, who wanted to start a project, did you help him?” asked the mother.

“It was a silly project,” said the girl, “and we all ignored his fervent appeals to kick start the program, and now it is trashed!”

“That is where my writing chisel would go first,” said the mother, “To tell your heart that helping someone is more important than throwing these empty words and verses you put on the group!”

“And what else would you use your chisel for?” asked the daughter.

“To tell you that there are many mothers and fathers crying out in loneliness while their children are too busy sending cards, messages or decorating their homes. Instead decorate the minds of those who need you this season with love.”

The daughter shook her head, and picked up her phone, “Mother, these messages I send are more important. Throw your chisel away!”

Louder than the clanking of the thrown chisel, were the wails of millions who needed in this season, a kind deed more than beautifully penned words..!

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