I have no idea why I thought of writing about this particular memory, but I thought about it as Jack and I drove home from Roger's parents' house tonight in the Wrangler, stick shift, no roof, perfect temperature. Bliss!
When Roger and I first got married, we moved to Highland, Utah, and were immediately asked to teach the 7-year-old Primary (Sunday School) class at church. When our new neighbors asked us what job we'd been assigned to, they shook their heads and said, "Oh, that class."
It was a pretty rowdy group. There were 14 of them. All but two were boys, though the girls held their own quite well. We soon learned that all of the head shaking was about one of the boys in particular.
He ended up being our hands-down favorite kid in the class. Sure, he wasn't very interested in settling down during Sunday School and that was a bit of a challenge. Okay, a huge challenge. But he was interesting. And funny. And his eyes sparkled. And he'd find amazing bugs and bring them to our house to show us.
We moved about three years later and lost track of him. I think his family moved to southern Utah soon after we left the neighborhood. I hope no one squashed the spirit out of that boy just for the sake of classroom management. And I hope his eyes still sparkle.
1 comment:
And no matter where or who he is now, the two of you planted seeds of kindness. He probably didn't have many who were nice to him or saw value in him. I don't believe those seeds are ever wasted even when we don't see the flowers. Even when the flowers don't come.
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