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First Place Winner! Through the Eyes of a Child By Annette Smith
We often
see them walking down the street. They may be limping and wearing a safety
helmet, or perhaps they have large birthmarks on their faces. They may
be walking in a group on an outing or we may meet them in Wal-Mart. We
see them coming so we turn down another aisle or divert our eyes as they
walk past. They make us feel uncomfortable although they do nothing but
walk by--often smiling. Why is it we feel uncomfortable? Why is it
we look away? Is it because we do not understand them; after all, they
are different-aren't they? Are we so blind that we think they do not notice
us turning our eyes away?
While sitting in my orthodontist's office waiting for my ride home, I could not help but notice a boy when he came in. His face was obviously disfigured; his teeth were pointed and turned every which way. When he tried to talk his words were slurred and confused. But he was wearing a smile. In the corner of the waiting room the TV monitor was flashing an action-packed cartoon--it was the Hunchback of Notre Dame.* Having never seen the movie before, I was not sure what to expect. From what I could tell it was the ending climax: Quasimoto was saving Esmerelda and the Captain. While the movie demanded the attention of many in the room, I could not help but watch this little boy. His eyes lit up as he watched Quasimoto; his arms moved around a little bit as if it were he who was doing those amazing things. Just as Quasimoto saved the day this little boy's mother came into the room and told her son that it was time to go. His slurred response was, "Not yet, Mom, not yet. "Come on, Michael. It's over." "Please Mom, not yet." I could not understand why Michael was reluctant to go. As I turned back toward the TV, I saw Esmerelda turn away from the cheering crowd, reach back into the shadows and draw Quasimoto out so that the crowd could see her rescuer. Michael's eyes were shining. So that's what he wanted to see, I thought. He wanted to see Quasimoto become a hero. But I was wrong. Quasimoto stood in front of the humongous crowd which was immediately silenced by the sight of this disfigured man. A little girl slowly walked up to Quasimoto and gently touched his face. Looking at Quasimoto, peering into his eyes, she saw not his facial appearance but the very soul of who he was. As I looked at Michael, his mouth, which rarely was closed, was wide open with an expression of something between a smile and a sense of awe. Then I looked at his eyes and saw that they were shining with unshed tears. But there was something deeper in them too. In this little boy's eyes I could see empathy; I could see understanding; I could see the hurt caused by people's stares; and deep in his eyes I could see a spark of hope. Hope that one day someone would touch him--looking past his infirmities and seeing the person inside. I then understood why he wanted to stay. You see it was not the glory that Quasimoto received that Michael wanted to see. He wanted to see the little girl look beyond this man's disfigured and distorted face and reach out to touch him in love. I wondered how many times Michael had felt people look away from him or step out of his way. I wondered how many times I had caused those like him this kind of pain. I realized that I was so wrapped up in appearances that I never took the time to look these people in the eyes and see them for who they really are: people like you and me--created by God and loved in a very special way. I will never forget the lesson that the Lord taught me through this little boy. I do not know if I will ever see Michael again. But the next time I see someone like him and am tempted to look away I will remember Michael's eyes and the volumes of feelings that they shared. And instead of diverting my eyes, I will look and smile into the eyes of a person--who is really no different than you or me--who needs to hear a word of encouragement, see a kind smile and feel a physical touch of love. * Neither the author nor the magazine wish to endorse Disney productions. |
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