Thoughts

I think I've told you the story about something I did when I was a kid. If I have any regrets, this would be near number one on that list.

In my school, there was a girl with the devastating, heart-breaking condition called Progeria. It's where a child ages abnormally fast. They rarely live past age 14, but I didn't know that at the time. The condition was so rare, no one knew much of anything about it at the time, even the scientists studying it. Now, they know it's caused by a tiny point mutation in a child's DNA. One researcher describes it as "a one letter typo in the billions of letters that make up the chromosomal book."

Her name was Becky, and she always wore a white hat to cover her balding head. I remember the hat, because it looked a little like Gilligan's and had a strap under the chin.

She had a younger sister who watched over her all the time. Looking back with keener vision, I realize just how special their relationship must have been.

Anyway, one day I was riding bikes with my friends around the block. Suddenly, up ahead on the left, we saw Becky and her sister. Becky had just wheeled a small bicycle out of the garage. I guess they were about to go for a bike ride, too.

My friends starting calling out to her. "It's the old lady!"
"Wrinkly!"
"Old lady!"
"Shrinky-dink!"

And then, "Baldy!" That was me. That came out of my mouth.

As we pedaled past, I could see Becky's sister bending over Becky, and then they turned and wheeled their bikes back in the garage.

I felt immediate, hot, burning shame at my unnatural willingness to follow the crowd. Why had I just done that? It came out almost unbidden, blurted in an impulsive moment of wanting to blend in.

God, I hate that I said that, to this day. I went home that afternoon and the image of Becky's face, shrouded in sadness, hovered in my mind late into the night, and for a long time afterward.

When I was a little older, I gave my life to Jesus. One of the first things I did after that memorable day was go to Becky's house and ring the doorbell. I was intent to tell her I was wrong, and sorry.

Her mom answered the door. She looked like a nice lady, but she also looked tired. I asked if I could talk to Becky, and was shocked to hear that Becky had passed away.

I couldn't tell Becky I was sorry. I was too late. I think tears welled up in my eyes. Back then, I couldn't look people in the eyes, so I don't know what Becky's mom thought. But her voice was kind. She asked why I had come. Although Becky did have some friends at school, she didn't have them over to her home often. Becky's mom probably thought it was odd to have a weird, tear-stricken kid on her porch.

"I wanted to tell her I was sorry for making fun of her that day when we rode bikes by her house."

In my immature view, I thought her mom would remember that day for it's singular horribleness. What I didn't realize was that Becky's mom dealt with cruelty by others every day, and no one day stood out as worse than any other. I didn't know Becky had sang in the choir, and loved to draw, paint, and collect comics. If I had dared to come closer, I might've seen how cool she was, and maybe I would've been honored to call her a friend.

She said, quietly, "Becky would appreciate you saying that, and I'm sure she would forgive you."

Wow. I was expecting to be yelled at for my awful crime. But her words were kind, her tone soft and reassuring.

That was an important moment in my life. That was the day I vowed to treat every heart as though it was sacred ground, even though those words wouldn't come into my mind until much later.

It was the moment the world became more beautiful. It was the moment I realized that making friends based on looks like is one of the biggest mistakes we can make in life. It was the moment I realized name-calling is never okay; one reason is because people already have their own names, and don't need extra ones. Of course, I'm not perfect, and make mistakes. But, in the big picture, I have learned that souls run deep. Beauty is found in unexpected places, and golden hearts often can't be seen from a distance.

I found this photo of Becky on Google. She is on the far left, and this picture was taken at a get-together sponsored by The Sunshine Foundation. When I saw it, my heart flooded, because all I see when I look at this now, is beauty...and sunshine.

Grown ups should know better. Kids are watching how we behave, in all situations. Our country is too full of cruelty, bias, and blind dislike, if not hate. We can change that, person by person, heart by heart.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell that story again, with a little more clarity that comes with age and experience. Thanks, everyone, for listening. Dare to come closer, and be kind to one another.