Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Parent (11/16/06)
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TITLE: The Eyes of a Child | Previous Challenge Entry
By Symantha McClennan
11/23/06 -
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The Eyes of a Child
Look into the eyes of a child and you will know the truth. It isn’t always easy to do; I don’t always feel brave enough to look. When I see fear, or anger, or sadness or maybe even hatred my heart breaks, especially if I am the one who put it there—in their hearts to be reflected in their eyes, brown eyes like mine.
One day we arrived at school without my young son’s sweatshirt. Believing in accountability, and knowing that it wasn’t too cold, I told him that he would have to do without it. Everything inside of me clenched into a ball as I said that, and still does just at the memory of the look in his eyes; a look of resignation that maybe his mom, me, didn’t love him as much as he wanted me to; or maybe it was anger or sadness. Whatever it was it was cold and dark and it chilled me even as it chilled his big brown eyes in his freckled face, his little body looking so handsome in his school uniform of navy blue slacks cinched at his slim waist by a brown leather belt that tried valiantly to keep his navy blue polo shirt in check.
He turned from me and entered his classroom. I turned from the door and returned to my car, tears welling in my eyes and a fist clutching at my heart. “Principles and jobs be hanged,” I thought as I backed my car from the school driveway, a tear escaping to roll down my cheek. Risking the wrath of my co-workers and boss, I drove back home and collected the little navy blue sweatshirt from the rumpled heap at the foot of his unmade bed inhabited by sleep tossed stuffed animals and the remnants of a small child’s dreams.
I peaked through the long narrow window in the classroom door, my eyes searching for the soft, shiny brown hair of my eldest child, a rooster tail standing at the crown. Locating him I quietly opened the door and slipped in. The teacher and I exchanged soft smiles as I lifted my hand containing the child-size sweatshirt. Coming up behind him I said his name, “Will.” He turned, the ice still clouding his eyes as they met mine, he said, “my sweatshirt?” a question in his voice. I nodded and offered a tentative smile. Then a smile hot as the sun lit his face as he grabbed the shirt, gave me a glancing hug and a look that melted every bone in my body with the love that shone from it.
Ever since that day our relationship has been better, brighter, filled with more joy and a deeper level of trust than ever before; we became a team.
Ecclesiastes 4:7-12 “I observed yet another example of meaninglessness in our world. This is the case of a man who is all alone, without a child or brother, yet who works hard to gain as much wealth as he can. But then he asks himself, “Who am I working for? Why am I giving up so much pleasure now?” It is all so meaningless and depressing. Two people can accomplish more than twice as much as one; they get a better return for their labor. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But people who are alone when they fall are in real trouble. And on a cold night, two under the same blanket can gain warmth from each other. But how can one be warm alone? A person -standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken. (NLT)
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