Some days ago someone sent me the following:-
The girl you just called fat… She is on diet pills.
The girl you just called ugly, she spends hours putting makeup on hoping people will like her.
The boy you just tripped… He is abused enough at home.
See the man with the ugly scars… He fought for his country.
The 14-year-old girl…with a kid, That you just called a slut… she got raped.
That guy you just made fun of crying… His mother is dying.
People have already enough sorrow to deal with,
Please do not give them anymore just because You wanna crack a joke!
The girl you just called ugly, she spends hours putting makeup on hoping people will like her.
The boy you just tripped… He is abused enough at home.
See the man with the ugly scars… He fought for his country.
The 14-year-old girl…with a kid, That you just called a slut… she got raped.
That guy you just made fun of crying… His mother is dying.
People have already enough sorrow to deal with,
Please do not give them anymore just because You wanna crack a joke!
As I was reading this, my thought flew back to my second standard class room. We were all seven-year-olds. There were two of them cousins as our classmates; both had same names – Tresa – after their Grandma according to the custom in Kerala Christian family, as they were the firstborns in their family.
Their parents were farmers. One was fair, thin and tall, and came in clean clothes and in time for the class. The second was small and short and on the dark side. She came practically all the time late for class, and her clothes would be dirty and untidy, her hair unkempt. Along with her cousin we derided her many times. She would look at us silently. But I noticed my class teacher was always kind to her. May be she knew the family.
One fine day she did not come. And we came to know our “scapegoat” was no more. You can imagine how our “pharisaic” feelings melted down. On enquiry we came to know that as the eldest in the family, this little child had to do all the chores in the home she left for school.
Her desire to study brought her to school, even if it was late, though she never had time to wash her face or comb her hair. As she would come on empty stomach she would stay so until she reached home. The midday meal was served for the BPL families’ children, so she never had access to it.
I had learned a big lesson. Tresa forgive us! You will be enjoying heaven now! Like the story of Rich man and Lazurus in the Gospel ask the Lord to have mercy on us your classmates, on this little “rich” creatures whose hearts were too small to recognize your love for your family, eyes blind to see your greatness, and deaf to hear your silent cry for understanding and acceptance. We failed to see your eyes thirsting for mercy and love, understanding and help, ears eager to hear a comforting word.
- – - written by Lissy M.
No comments:
Post a Comment