After church, one morning, I went to retrieve four-year-old Jonathan from
his class. His teacher asked to speak with me for a moment. I wondered if
Jonathan had done something wrong. My mind momentarily went into defense mode,
but I patiently waited to see what she had to say. She took me by surprise when
her eyes began to tear up. She said that they had a new child visit class that day.
He was blind. She said the other children stared at first; then, they went
about their play, ignoring him. He couldn’t participate in the same way they did.
Jonathan was the one exception. She said he asked the boy if he would like to
build something with him. When the child said yes, Jonathan guided him to the
blocks. They sat down and played and laughed.
When the visiting family came to pick up their son, they were thrilled
that he had found a new friend.
The teacher praised my husband and me for teaching Jonathan
to be sensitive to the needs of others, especially those who were “different”.
My mother’s pride welled up within me for a few minutes, but then I realized
that we weren’t responsible. God had placed a tender spot, within him, that
naturally reached out to those in need.
I like to think that I am kind to all people. But, I was
compelled to question myself that day. Did I intentionally look for opportunities
to engage those who might feel excluded from social interactions, or did I
allow perceived differences to keep them at a distance? Jesus didn’t just give
the shunned lepers a kind word; He embraced them. In his own way, little
Jonathan did the same thing with a blind child. If a four-year-old
instinctively responds with intentional kindness, why don’t I?
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