One spring afternoon when I was in sixth grade a boy literally dropped dead on the schoolyard during recess. Though he had a congenital heart problem, none of the students knew. A few months before during the Christmas season he had brought a gift to school for me. I was shy and not yet interested in boys and didn’t really know what the gift meant so I had a teacher quietly return it.
Instead she must have given it to his older sister who came to me very distraught. She didn’t want her brother’s feelings hurt and took pains to explain that he wasn’t trying to be a boyfriend; he just thought I was nice and wanted to give me something.
So I accepted the most beautiful box of stationary I have ever owned. The pages were full notebook size with blue and purple mountains in the background. Gazing upon the scene an elegant lady with a long flowing dress held her pen in the air as if in thought.
Our class was asked to sing “I Am the Bread of Life” at the boy’s funeral. Somehow they transported all 20 of us.
I am the bread of life
He who comes to me shall not hunger
He who believes in me shall not thirst
No one can come to me
Unless the Father draws him
And I will raise him up
On the last day
2 comments:
Wow. It's sad that something so meaningful can be so sad!
But the boy's gift shows where his heart and mind lay, and remove all doubt as to where they now reside.
OH, wow! I remember that day. I did not know about the gift though. He was one of mom's special ones. Thanks for remembering and sharing.
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