Why do you have to be on our team? Those are two of the ugliest girls I’ve ever seen.
A girl in my jr. high p.e. class asked me that first question during basketball when I was assigned to be on her team for a class period. I guess jr. high p.e. basketball was important to some people, a big thing in their small world. I was just trying to get through the 40 minutes as fast as possible so I could put it all behind me until the next day when my worries would stream again: white stick legs, too short shorts and golden t-shirt (remember the days of p.e. uniforms?), required showers. High on the worry list was also my inability to master skills associated with these units under pressure. But, I could run fast. As in the days when the teacher (coach, to some people I guess) would tell us to run the fire lane back to the locker room. That was the only thing I excelled at, probably speedy just because I was anxious to be done with p.e. for another day. So when this classmate asked me this obviously rhetorical question, I was as dumb-founded as she was. I had no idea why I’d gotten stuck on her team, just lucky for both of us I guess.
The second remark, maybe unconsciously another reason for my disdain for sports, was overheard as I climbed the stairs with a roommate at a BYU football game. And yes, I’m pretty sure it was about us. I totally get it. You know I appreciate honesty. But it was lame to hear straight-up at such a vulnerable point in my life. I hope the guy and his friend married beautiful women just like them.
And yet, what a blessing those two statements have been in my life. Weird, I know, but hear me out. Obviously they’ve stayed with me. And yes, there have been others. These are just two of my favorites. Hurtful jabs morphed into humorous anecdotes. I guess I just figure we have a choice when it comes to dealing with what people say to or about us. This lesson is taught through a children’s book called You Are Special . Most of you know it, but here’s the Amazon book summary. Every day the small wooden people called Wemmicks do the same thing: stick either gold stars or gray dots on one another. The pretty ones--those with smooth wood and fine paint--always get stars. The talented ones do, too. Others, though, who can do little or who have chipped paint, get ugly gray dots. Like Punchinello.
In this heartwarming children's tale from the best-selling…author Max Lucado, Eli the woodcarver helps Punchinello understand how special he is--no matter what other Wemmicks may think. It's a vital message for children everywhere: that regardless of how the world evaluates them, God cherishes each of them, just as they are. I’ll point out that Lucia, who becomes Punchinello’s friend and role model, never has dots or stars that stick; they simply fall off because she doesn’t care what any of the other Wemmicks think, only what Eli thinks.
I will admit that I’m like most of you and appreciate a nice compliment and get hurt when I know someone doesn’t like me. We all have several examples of each in our bags. The two I mentioned probably added to the awkwardness I already felt in my earlier years. Yet who’s to say I couldn’t get better? Those two kids had no idea who I was or what I could do. I just let those tapes play over and over in my young brain, shutting down my desire to even try.
But I have noticed something strange happening over the years. The older I get, the more I relate to Lucia from our story in that I can’t seem to hang on to what people say—good or bad—much anymore. I appreciate it when people take time to say or write something nice, but then the words flitter away, not meant to stick around. The gray dot stickers are just as temporary. I suppose it’s because I’m totally aware that there are just as many weak areas as strong, and there’s no point in worrying about what it all looks like to regular people. There are only two people who know my heart intimately and so He and I are the only ones I care if I’m right with.
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