Every morning in a small, sleepy town, a woman would make breakfast for her family — thin, golden pancakes cooked to perfection. But she always made one extra. She’d place it outside her door, never asking who might take it, only hoping it would help someone in need. This daily ritual became her quiet act of kindness and charity, filled with silent prayers for her son, who had gone far away to earn a living and had not sent word for months.
The same person always took that extra pancake: a hunched old man. Rain or shine, he would come by, take the pancake without a word of thanks, and mutter the same cryptic phrase: “Evil returns to the one who does it; good returns to the one who does it.”
Wondering about the man and his strange words
At first, the woman didn’t mind. However, over time, the man’s silence and strange mantra began to bother her. “Why doesn’t he say thank you? Why keep repeating that phrase every single day?” she wondered. His presence, once benign, started to irritate her.
One morning, overwhelmed by her worry over her missing son and frustrated by the old man’s behavior, she decided she’d had enough. In a moment of anger and despair, she laced the pancake with poison, ready to rid herself of this peculiar visitor once and for all.
But her conscience cried out as she held the tainted pancake in her trembling hands, about to place it at the door. “What am I doing?” she asked herself. In that instant of reckoning, she threw the poisoned pancake into the fire, burned it to ashes, and made a new, clean one to put outside. The old man came as usual, picked up the pancake, and murmured his phrase again: “Evil returns to the one who does it; good returns to the one who does it.” He had no idea he had just been spared.
The miracle that came knocking
Just as the woman settled down that night, she heard a knock at the door. To her astonishment, her long-lost son stood there. He was gaunt, dirty, and barely able to speak. Tears welled in his eyes as he told her what had happened: “Mother, I thought I was going to die. I was only a few miles away, but I collapsed from hunger on the road. I begged a passerby — an old man — for a bite to eat. He gave me his entire pancake and said: ‘This is my food for the day, but you need it more than I do.’”
The woman nearly fainted. She leaned against the doorframe, her heart pounding with shock and gratitude. She realized in horror that the pancake she had almost poisoned was meant for the man who saved her son. If not for that moment of hesitation, her child might have been the one to eat it. Only then did the meaning of the old man’s words strike her with full force: Evil returns to the one who does it; good returns to the one who does it.
When we help others, we help ourselves
This woman’s story, her daily act of quiet kindness, and the old man’s cryptic reminder are a profound lesson in the power of compassion. Every action, no matter how small or routine, carries the potential to ripple through lives in ways we cannot foresee. In trying to help others, we often end up saving ourselves. And sometimes, miracles knock when we least expect them, on the wings of the kindness we almost failed to give.
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