The Plank-Eyed Girl: Beautiful Onion; Fish Envy; and a New Friend

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Beautiful Onion; Fish Envy; and a New Friend: Swayed by the heavy half of my job, I walk with stout determination into her office and promptly get to work on the "problem&...

Beautiful Onion; Fish Envy; and a New Friend

Swayed by the heavy half of my job, I walk with stout determination into her office and promptly get to work on the "problem".  She quietly stands observing my progress.  It is not her, but the problem I am attempting to resolve that is making me cranky.  She continues to stand and observe. Stopping, to reach for a tool, I become aware of her quiet, gentle "Small Giantish" gaze. Straightening myself up, I mumble something about being right back and head towards the door.  

In a nano-second, her intense calm manner, reaches me and my guard slips down.  Slowly pivoting to face her, she simply asks, "Can I help you?  You seem distraught?"  In a dissident moment, a swirl of colliding inner-thoughts take over.  I am both bothered that I did not hide my frustration as well as I thought I did, and oddly relieved that she noticed and even cared enough to offer to help.  I am speechless (which doesn't happen often).

This "Small Giant" has worked in my building for approximately the last eleven months.  She is delicately strong and boldly soft-spoken. Her ways are gentle, thoughtful, and steady. There is an impenetrable calmness that surrounds her uniqueness and I am drawn to it. 

"You are a beautiful onion," she softly vocalizes. I stand staring at her.  "Excuse me?" I mutter. She repeats herself, "You are a beautiful onion."  I giggle.  She states the phrase again, "You are a beautiful onion."  I am smirking. Smiling, she joins me at the door and we walk to my office. I'm not sure if I want to know what she means by this. So, I don't ask.  I just let it roll around in my head. She seems to have gathered snippets of noticings about me and my surroundings over these last eleven months and is choosing today to expose this insightful knowledge.  I am silent.  She continues on with an explanation about how she has observed me and that I have many, many layers to me just like an onion.  My facial dyslexia is surfacing and I find my eyes revealing my amusement with the humor of this remark.

Entering the library, she boldly exclaims, "I have fish envy!"  What? We repeat the onion scenario, only this time with the fish phrase.  Now I am downright laughing.  She stands gazing with amusement at me.  

In less than five minutes, I have found a kindred word-smithing soul!  I'm so glad she was brave enough to speak to my frustration.  I now have a new fabulous friend who sees the world in a wonderfully unique way.  Thank you "Small Giant" for being brave.

Who is it that God has put in your path that you haven't truly noticed before?  We are all wonderfully unique and bring our own perspectives to this life we have been given.  I bet He has someone waiting to be your new friend. Let's ask Him to open our eyes and really see those around us with His perspective.  I look forward to hearing about your new friends.

Until We Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl

  

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Little Man, Button Jar, and a Pair of Carhartts

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Little Man, Button Jar, and a Pair of Carhartts: Monday 9:25 AM Eyes the color of melted milk chocolate peered over the counter and steered into the open door of my office.  Sile...

Little Man, Button Jar, and a Pair of Carhartts

Monday 9:25 AM Eyes the color of melted milk chocolate peered over the counter and stared into the open door of my office.  Silent as a dormant tree he stood, planted against the counter.  Slipping down off my double-seated, orange,  Asian bench, I approach the "Little Man".   Time seems suspended as his eyes search my face.    Moments are sliding by but he seems unaware. 

In a manner that surprises me, he simply states, "My teacher says you can fix anything."  I am amused.  He is serious.  Trying not to snicker, I ask, "What needs fixing?"  He gazes at me like I should have the mind reading abilities of a grandmother.  Slowly,  his dirt-filled fingernails  come to rest on the top of his hand-me down, Carhartt overalls.  Leaning across the counter, I take a closer look.  Dirt has embedded itself on the knees and grass has made its home on the backside.  I say nothing.  Silence hangs between us.  Honestly, words are escaping me at this moment.  He is a new kiddo and I don't know his story yet. 

Touching my hand gently, he whispers, "I can bring them tomorrow, cuz I have another pair of pants."  Tears are welling up from deep inside my soul.  All I can muster is, "Okay, but the button might be a little different from the other one."  Turning he runs out the recess door yelling, "The lady is going to fix my pants, teacher!" 

I tuck this interaction away and attempt to go on about my day with business as normal.  But, this one simple interaction has ignited a cocktail of emotions that I can not contain.  Options skim through my head like a flipbook. 

9:25 PM Crouching on the plush rug of my studio, I remove the button jar from the shelf.  Textures, shapes, and colors are  eye-candy for this girl.  Carefully, I am fingering each button as I dig, like a dog looking for a buried bone.  Time passes, yet I am unaware.  I am lost in the thought of this child's explicit trust in my ability.

Tuesday 10:30 AM  Little Man's sister brings me the Carhartts and tells me she needed to wash them first.  Wow!  This precious girl is only in fourth grade, yet she is taking care of her brother.  I thank her and tuck them away.

5:30 PM  Many hour have slid by.  Perched on a high chair in my studio, my fingers are working at making this Little Man's request become a reality.  There is more than just the button that I discover needs to be repaired.  As I work, I find myself chatting with my Father about this little guy and His sister.  He says nothing, but I feel His smile.

6:45 PM  I am finished. Carefully folding them, I place them in my car.  Morning can't arrive soon enough.

Wednesday 9:00 AM Sauntering down the pristinely waxed hallway, I arrive at the "Little Man's" room.  The teacher is teaching.  Crouching down, I ask him to go put them in his backpack.  He says nothing, but takes them onto his lap and places his grungy left hand on top of them.  His milk chocolate eyes dance and his mouth is turned up in a gigantic smile.  Standing up, I force myself to walk away.

Maybe I should be more like this "Little Man".  His explicit trust in my ability to fix his problem never wavered.  How often do I come to my Father and ask for help, only to walk away with it still in my hands.  Psalms 55:22 in the Message says, "Pile your troubles on God's shoulders - he'll carry your load, he'll help you out..."  Maybe it's time I handed over my "overalls" and ran out the door proclaiming, "He's going to fix _____!" (You fill in the blank.) 

What do you need to hand over? 

Until we Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl



The Plank-Eyed Girl: Revolts; Secret Places; and Whispers

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Revolts; Secret Places; and Whispers: This day, like all 17 school days before it, seems to be filled with issues that I don't have a quick remedy for.  They are multi-...

Revolts; Secret Places; and Whispers

This day, like all 17 school days before it, seems to be filled with issues that I don't have a quick remedy for.  They are multi-tiered, and certainly not my forte.  My heart is ready to revolt.  I have felt this revolt rising for the last 16 school days and now, I'm afraid it is about ready to explode with some very ugly outward signs.  

 My days used to be filled with books, children, and teaching.  Now days, they are filled with other things that create a heaviness inside of me.  A revolt is impending.  Hours creep by, as I continue attempting to gain answers by reading "How to's" and googling.  

Unexpectedly, a group of students saunter in to find new books and in an instant, I find myself out of my office and skipping toward them.  Like a young child being let out to recess, I approach a small one in front of the

Lego books in the middle of the aisle, he pats the floor and locks eyes with me.  Not being able to resist the invitation, I plop down onto the floor. He snugs up next to me, just like we are the only two in the library.  Before I know it, he makes his way onto my lap.  (I love first graders, they don't know that students aren't suppose to sit on teacher's laps.)  I am savoring the moments with him. 

I am blind and deaf to everything else around me. My heart is receiving much needed oxygen. Suddenly, another set of little arms wrap around my neck from behind, like a butterfly closing its wings around itself.   I feel a head close to my ear and another Little One whispers, "I LOVE the library.  When I am having a bad day or when I am sad, I come here and it makes my heart happy."  I lock eyes with him and wonder if he really understands how powerful this moment is for my heart.  His words are undiluted and authentic. Spoken from a place deep inside of him. In this instant, my heart is full and I am grateful for the opportunity to pour into these little ones.  

I LOVE that the library is this Little One's secret place.  I also have secret places where my heart finds peace and re-inflation.  Sometimes it is behind the lens of a camera.  Other times it is in the air swirling and circling my body as I run barefooted on my

secret sandy beach.  Yet, in other moments, it is when I am carefully cocooned inside my velvety sunflower yellow throw in my overstuffed purple

studio chair.  In all these "secret" places, the one consistent, calming factor is His presence that whispers to my soul, "Be still, I've got this and I've got you!"  

May your secret place be filled with His presence and my your heart hear your creator whisper, "Be still my child.  I've got this and I've got you."

Enjoy the gift of this day!

Until we Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl