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Thanksgiving Day was near. The first grade teacher gave her class a fun assignment -- to draw a picture of something for which they were thankful.
Most of the class might be considered economically disadvantaged, but still many would celebrate the holiday with turkey and other traditional goodies of the season. These, the teacher thought, would be the subjects of most of her student's art. And they were.
But Douglas made a different kind of picture. Douglas was a different kind of boy. He was the teacher's true child of misery, frail and unhappy. As other children played at recess, Douglas was likely to stand close by her side. One could only guess at the pain Douglas felt behind those sad eyes.
Yes, his picture was different. When asked to draw a picture of something for which he was thankful, he drew a hand. Nothing else. Just an empty hand.
His abstract image captured the imagination of his peers. Whose hand could it be? One child guessed it was the hand of a farmer, because farmers raise turkeys. Another suggested a police officer, because the police protect and care for people. Still others guessed it was the hand of God, for God feeds us. And so the discussion went -- until the teacher almost forgot the young artist himself.
When the children had gone on to other assignments, she paused at Douglas' desk, bent down, and asked him whose hand it was.
The little boy looked away and murmured, "It's yours, teacher."
He recalled the times she had taken his hand and walked with him here or there, as she had the other students. How often had she said, "Take my hand, Douglas, we'll go outside." Or, "Let me show you how to hold your pencil." Or, "Let's do this together." Douglas was most thankful for his teacher's hand.
Brushing aside a tear, she hugged Douglas and went on with her work.
The story speaks of more than thankfulness. It says something about teachers teaching and parents parenting and friends showing friendship, and how much it means to the Douglases of the world. They might not always say thanks. But they'll remember the hand that reaches out.
Don't forget the hand that feeds you, that helps you, that cares for you and protects you.....
No one can live alone, without feeling someone close, without having the chance to hold a hand and remember that simple gesture for a life time.
It's mom's hand when you do the first steps, it's dad's hand when you were hurt and you need to feel stronger, it's your teacher's hand, showing you the miracle hidden inside words and numbers.
It's also your friend's hand, holding you tight when you feel vulnerable or lonely, but also when you are succesfull and strong, when you are happy or sad, without judging, just giving you strenght, just showing care, unconditionnal support.
These are the most precious moments and the most important gifts you get in life...you may not realize it, but you carry this deep inside your soul and they end up defining who you are.
Truly wonderful Claudia. Your words make me think and ponder a lot. They are always so meaningful and as I said earlier they are like searchlights in darkness.
Thank you so much Claudia!
Very good post Pradeep. And Claudia has rightly penned the sensitive truths which most of us forget.
Regards,
Sri Manjari .V
Thank you so much Aish and Manjari for your kind appreciation.