Old Memories
Funny how old memories surface from the deep pool of our minds. Over 40 years ago, while raising my three kids in California, I volunteered to assist in the elementary school lunchroom one day a week. The kids were great, very polite and courteous--remember, this was another time, unlike today's permissive, My-kid-is-always-right view.
There was one shy little boy who ate his lunch very slowly during the last of three lunch periods. It was obvious to me that he just did not want to go out to the playground. I suspect he was teased there. My turf was the lunchroom, not the playground, so I gave him permission, when he softly asked me, to stay in the lunchroom until the bell rang to go back to class.
One of the other moms insisted he should go outside, but I told her it was the last lunch period, so no one was waiting for the room to clear to eat lunch. He wasn't causing any difficulty. He even cleared up after himself without leaving a trace that he'd been there. "Leave him alone," I told her. For whatever reason, he needed to have this time. He smiled up at me through his thick dark eyelashes.
The last day of school, he asked me if I had a pencil. I handed him one, and saw him begin writing on a napkin while the other kids noisily headed for the outdoors, all wired up for their summer vacation to begin. He wrote and wrote, then when the bell rang, he hurried over to me, handed me my pencil, then pushed the folded up napkin into my hand, his eyes downcast, as he smiled towards the floor.
After I got in my car to go home, I unfolded the tightly creased napkin and read: I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU scrawled all over both sides of the napkin. Tears came. I'd been facing my own trauma at home, with an abusive alcoholic husband making my life, and my kids' lives, a living hell. Our priest had patted my knee, telling me: "That is the cross you must bear, my dear." I had left his office (and ultimately, the Catholic church) determined to find a fulltime job and file for divorce. I never was good at carrying a cross. I had been strongly feeling the lack of love in my life, and this shy little boy had shown me the sunshine of his heart just when I most needed to feel loved.
I still have that folded note in my jewelry box. We never know whose life we touch--and perhaps, change--with simple kindness.
There was one shy little boy who ate his lunch very slowly during the last of three lunch periods. It was obvious to me that he just did not want to go out to the playground. I suspect he was teased there. My turf was the lunchroom, not the playground, so I gave him permission, when he softly asked me, to stay in the lunchroom until the bell rang to go back to class.
One of the other moms insisted he should go outside, but I told her it was the last lunch period, so no one was waiting for the room to clear to eat lunch. He wasn't causing any difficulty. He even cleared up after himself without leaving a trace that he'd been there. "Leave him alone," I told her. For whatever reason, he needed to have this time. He smiled up at me through his thick dark eyelashes.
The last day of school, he asked me if I had a pencil. I handed him one, and saw him begin writing on a napkin while the other kids noisily headed for the outdoors, all wired up for their summer vacation to begin. He wrote and wrote, then when the bell rang, he hurried over to me, handed me my pencil, then pushed the folded up napkin into my hand, his eyes downcast, as he smiled towards the floor.
After I got in my car to go home, I unfolded the tightly creased napkin and read: I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU scrawled all over both sides of the napkin. Tears came. I'd been facing my own trauma at home, with an abusive alcoholic husband making my life, and my kids' lives, a living hell. Our priest had patted my knee, telling me: "That is the cross you must bear, my dear." I had left his office (and ultimately, the Catholic church) determined to find a fulltime job and file for divorce. I never was good at carrying a cross. I had been strongly feeling the lack of love in my life, and this shy little boy had shown me the sunshine of his heart just when I most needed to feel loved.
I still have that folded note in my jewelry box. We never know whose life we touch--and perhaps, change--with simple kindness.
Labels: school in CA
posted by Marion | 3:45 PM
4 Comments:
Thanks for making me cry at my computer!
I have had children hand me these sweet little notes over the past few years. I miss each and every child I taught in Florida. I wish I had saved the notes!
Oh Marion, I LOVE that story. God is so faithful to show His love for us. It's fun to find it in the most unexpected places. I wonder where that little boy is today. You probably spared him a lifetime of hurts from playground insults and injuries. Beautiful!
Marion, reading this has me in tears. Beautifully written and so moving. I know that your sensitivity and acceptance of that little boy probably meant a great deal to him. He reminded me of my son, now 18, who is autistic. In elementary school, he was mercilessly teased and came to hate recess. So you and that little boy both ministered to each other's souls by recognizing each other's pain. That is so lovely.
(And, by the way, in a side note, I wanted you to know how much I like your blog. I would comment more, but Blogger, for some reason, never recognizes my account and I have to go through an entire new registration all over again every time I comment, and with dial-up, that takes a while!)
What a difference a little kindness can make in another's life!
Thank you for a beautiful story, and yes..I'm crying too..
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