Showing posts with label wisdom of a child. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wisdom of a child. Show all posts

April 7, 2012

Jeremy



Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind.

At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher.

One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there is a five year gap between his age and that of the other students."

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here."

Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought. Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy.

From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.

"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, and Doris' face turned red. She stammered ... "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy. N-now please take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. "Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically ... all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she had said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs. In the first egg, Doris found a flower.

"Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said.
"When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here."

A small girl in the first row waved her arm.
"That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.

The next egg contained a plastic butterfly which looked very real.Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly.Yes, that's that's new life, too."

Little Judy smiled proudly and said,
"Miss Miller, that one is mine."

Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life.

Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom "My daddy
helped me," he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg.She gasped.The egg was empty. Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him,she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another.Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up.

"Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?"

Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty."

He looked into her eyes and said softly ...
"Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too."

Time stopped.

When she could speak again, Doris asked him,"Do you know why the tomb was empty?"

"Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there.Then His Father raised Him up."

The recess bell rang.
While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard ...Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away.

Three months later, Jeremy died.Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket ... all of them empty.

March 16, 2010

Already a Butterfly


Several weeks ago my little two-year-old daughter was playing with her toys and decided to strap on her butterfly wings. She was having a pretty good time for a while, until she got further down in the toy box and found her purple superhero cape. She wanted to put it on. When my husband tried to convince her to take off the wings, she refused. So he Velcroed the cape on right over the wings. It was awkward. She yanked on it for a while to keep it from being so jagged, but she looked like a crooked purple hunchback. She tried to go with it for as long as she could, but pretty soon she flew back over to us and uttered a very profound truth. I only wish I could remember her exact toddler jargon for this. But essentially, she said, "No cape. Alrey butterfly."

Think about it. You don't need a cape if you're already a butterfly! The moment I heard her say it, I knew it meant something. But it has taken a little bit of time for the meaning to unfold for me. I spend a lot of time—too much time, really—trying to fit into a cape. I see my neighbor in a beautiful cape, making incredible gourmet dinners with vegetables from her backyard. It's usually on a day I hardly had time to pick up a pizza. I see songwriting friends writing songs I truly wish I had written. They're so good. I see their capes billowing in the wind. I go to the mall to try to find something that can make me look amazing—and then I notice the ridiculous price tag. Capes I can't afford. I get discouraged.

All the while, I don't remember that I have wings! I have my own set of gifts. My own list of things I do best. If I paid better attention, I might notice some of those superhero ladies admiring my wings, even wishing for them.

Is being a butterfly better than being a superhero? Not necessarily. But is a superhero better than a butterfly? I'd say not. I have to admit that most of the time I feel more like a caterpillar than a butterfly. But I'm starting to remember more often that I really do have wings. I want to use them to do what they're best at, and fill this world with the things that only I can give. I want to quit trying so hard to be someone else. Easier said than done, I know.

I have lots of superheroes in my life, and I'm so grateful for them. I will always try to be more like them. But I'll try to do it in my own special butterfly way, because that's who I am. And I get the feeling that God loves butterflies quite a lot.

-Cheri Call 6/09