“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”

Ok, so I usually try to keep my blog pretty light-hearted, often goofy, and anything but serious. But in treating this as a journal of sorts, I just wanted to share a story from school that really touched me the other day.

In working with 6th and 7th graders, I'm periodically quite frustrated and irritated at how selfish and just plain mean these kids can sometimes be. In my Language Arts class, we're working on organizing and writing simple paragraphs. We had a day of brainstorming of what we wanted to write about. Of course most of the kids threw out random things like: tornadoes, snakes, video games, vacations, etc. But then, one of my students actually threw out helping people. First of all, this floored me. Wonderful I thought to myself. Helping people!

I then continued on with the lesson assigning the class to pick their topic and then write three supporting details and then two facts for each of those details. All they had to do was make an outline. Details on one side facts on the other. This usually is a catalyst for whining on the amount of writing mind you.

This same boy who chose the topic of helping people proceeds to then recount the story President Monson told at the General Relief Society meeting, in so simple but so meaningful words. He wrote out the entire story of a lady taking in a man who didn't have the best appearance, but she helped him anyway. His writing took over a page and a half. No, he didn't really follow the directions, but I didn't care. It made me smile and reminded me why I went into special ed in the first place. That even though this kid is so goofy sometimes (poking holes through his entire workbook, pretending to have harry potter wands, and bringing legos to class) I saw something really special just in talking to him- an innocence that touched me.

It was just what I needed on a long frustrating day. I'm there to help the kids and I need to quit complaining and judging. :)

Here's the whole story if you missed it and are curious:
A woman by the name of Mary Bartels had a home directly across the street from the entrance to a hospital clinic. Her family lived on the main floor and rented the upstairs rooms to outpatients at the clinic.
One evening a truly awful-looking old man came to the door asking if there was room for him to stay the night. He was stooped and shriveled, and his face was lopsided from swelling—red and raw. He said he’d been hunting for a room since noon but with no success. “I guess it’s my face,” he said. “I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says it could possibly improve after more treatments.” He indicated he’d be happy to sleep in the rocking chair on the porch. As she talked with him, Mary realized this little old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. Although her rooms were filled, she told him to wait in the chair and she’d find him a place to sleep.
At bedtime Mary’s husband set up a camp cot for the man. When she checked in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and he was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, he asked if he could return the next time he had a treatment. “I won’t put you out a bit,” he promised. “I can sleep fine in a chair.” Mary assured him he was welcome to come again.
In the several years he went for treatments and stayed in Mary’s home, the old man, who was a fisherman by trade, always had gifts of seafood or vegetables from his garden. Other times he sent packages in the mail.
When Mary received these thoughtful gifts, she often thought of a comment her next-door neighbor made after the disfigured, stooped old man had left Mary’s home that first morning. “Did you keep that awful-looking man last night? I turned him away. You can lose customers by putting up such people.”
Mary knew that maybe they had lost customers once or twice, but she thought, “Oh, if only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear.”
After the man passed away, Mary was visiting with a friend who had a greenhouse. As she looked at her friend’s flowers, she noticed a beautiful golden chrysanthemum but was puzzled that it was growing in a dented, old, rusty bucket. Her friend explained, “I ran short of pots, and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn’t mind starting in this old pail. It’s just for a little while, until I can put it out in the garden.”
Mary smiled as she imagined just such a scene in heaven. “Here’s an especially beautiful one,” God might have said when He came to the soul of the little old man. “He won’t mind starting in this small, misshapen body.” But that was long ago, and in God’s garden how tall this lovely soul must stand!