The one requirement for the tough assignment is thick skin. The term "thick skin" refers to the skin of a pachyderm, such as an elephant, hippopotamus or rhinoceros -- an outer covering which is resistant and impermeable. It also refers to skin that has become callous, due to the process of induration (literally, to endure) or acquiring hardness. I can remember Matt having these terrible blisters on his hands during high school. He assured me that these open, painful sores were just part of baseball. Once they 'scabbed over' or calloused, he would be fine, i.e. thick skin.
Years ago, I had a really tough assignment. A kindergarten teacher pulled me to the side and suggested that my middle daughter might need to be "tested." She felt that my favorite five-year-old might not be "catching on" as quickly as the other kids. Even now, eighteen years years later, I can feel the weight of the sigh that just left my body.
This week, my oldest daughter and I were talking about a young man who has had to develop some thick skin and endure some hardness because of the misdeeds of his mother. I told her that I just wished his life could have been different. Aimee responded with a profound statement: "Mom, you can't rob someone of their story, because it may make them who they are supposed to be."
TODAY'S BIG STORY: Wow. This is the day that I have to make an editorial decision about the Tomorrow Trunk. Today I have to decide if I want to be selective about the stories that go into the trunk. Today I have to decide whether to omit the ones that are difficult to carry. This morning, I met with Katie's kindergarten teacher. Today I heard the words that critically disable the great expectations of a parent. As I listened to her carefully scripted words, they burned hotter than the flames of the fire that burned a county high school to the ground. After the teacher's meeting, I walked to the playground. When Katie saw me, she came running - my favorite five-year-old. I knew I had a tough assignment ahead of me. So I held her hand, walked to the car and said, "It is what it is."
Katie's Lazy Daisy
She began like all the other daisies, from a teeny, tiny seed. But something happened the day she was planted. All the seeds were scattered in a flower bed filled with fresh dirt and bordered by strong, sturdy timbers.
All the seeds, except one…
which fell to the side and landed just outside the bed on a dried clump of red clay – a place where nothing seemed to grow.
The warm Spring sun baked the hard clay. Just underneath, the tiny seed was trapped. After days of pounding and pushing, a skinny little stem slipped through one thin crack!
“Whee! I’m free!” Daisy shouted!
“I must clean up a bit.” She shook off a stubborn clod of dirt and unfolded her petals.
Just as she was about to announce her arrival, she saw them. Bunches of them! All so tall!
Big, bright, beautiful daisies! They saw her, too, and they laughed.
“Hey, what happened to you?” they teased.
“Are you a puny petunia?"
“I think she is a weeping willow!”
“I know! She is a lazy daisy!” Then they all laughed again.
Every morning, Lazy Daisy struggled to stand straight and tall like the other daisies. No sooner than she raised her stem and opened her petals, the whole cluster started making their jokes.
One daisy blossomed above all the others. She had a perfect white circle of petals and a HUGE yellow head. Every day she made fun of Lazy Daisy. Usually, Lazy Daisy covered her head with her petals and pretended not to listen.
The summer days passed by slowly. Weeds grew up all around her. Lazy Daisy could not see the other daisies, but she knew they were there. Lazy Daisy could not even see the sun.
One morning, she was barely awake when she heard a sound. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The ground shook beneath her, as the sound came closer and closer. She lifted a petal to see what was happening.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Lazy Daisy was afraid.
The sharp, shiny blade cut its way through the crowded weeds. “No! No!” she screamed! “I am not a weed! I’m a flower! Please don’t cut me down!”
Lazy Daisy pulled her petals in tightly as dirt and diced weeds fell on top of her.
Suddenly, the shaking stopped. “What on earth are you doing here, little daisy?” asked a voice, soft and kind. Then one small finger gently straightened her willowy stem. “I think you need someone to take care of you. My name is Katie.”
Katie broke away the hard crust and loosened the dirt. With steady hands, she scooped beneath Daisy’s roots and pulled her stem out of the clay. Then, she took Daisy to a special pot.
Katie pushed her tender stem into warm, rich soil...plenty of water, too. “This should do just fine,” said Katie.
But, starting over wasn’t easy. Day after day, Katie watered and waited. At last, Daisy began to blossom and bloom like she never had before!
“Welcome to your new home,” Katie announced. She placed Daisy on a small windowsill between two red clay pots. “It’s time for you to meet your new friends! This is Violet, and this is Pansy!”
Daisy looked at Katie and her new friends, and she looked out the window. Just below, she saw the flower bed and the crowded bunch of daisies. She also saw something else – her own reflection in the window pane! Daisy straightened her stem, puffed out her petals and smiled with delight.
Katie softly touched Daisy's white petals and said, "Look at you now, my amazing Daisy."
Dianne B. McLaurin. Copyright, 1992.
Yesterday, she called me again, completely ecstatic. She said she was so excited that she could hardly breathe. She had made an 87 on her philosophy test! At one point, she even used the word 'amazing'. I could almost visualize her holding the phone - straightening her stem, puffing out her petals and smiling with delight. Then, I thought about my favorite five-year-old and I said to myself, "Yes she is."
Dianne ; )
No comments:
Post a Comment