Grace
The boy stood with back arched, head cocked
back and hands clenched
defiantly. "Go ahead, give it to me."
The principal looked down at the young rebel.
"How many times have you been here?"
The child sneered rebelliously, "Apparently
not enough."
The principal gave the boy a strange look.
"And you have been punished each time have you not?"
"Yeah, I been punished, if that's what you
want to call it." He threw out his small chest, "Go ahead I can take
whatever you dish out. I always have."
"And no thought of your punishment enters
your head the next time you decide to break the rules does it?"
"Nope, I do whatever I want to do. Ain't nothin
you people gonna do to
stop me either."
The principal looked over at the teacher who
stood nearby. "What did he do this time?"
"Fighting. He took little Tommy and shoved
his face into the sandbox."
The principal turned to look at the boy, "Why?
What did little Tommy do to you?"
"Nothin, I didn't like the way he was lookin
at me, just like I don't like
the way your lookin at me! And if I thought
I could do it, I'd shove your face into something."
The teacher stiffened and started to rise
but a quick look from the
principal stopped him. He contemplated the
child for a moment and then quietly said, "Today my young student,
is the day you learn about grace."
"Grace? Isn't that what you old people do
before you sit down to eat? I
don't need none of your stinkin grace."
"Oh but you do." The principal studied the
young mans face and whispered.
"Oh yes, you truly do..."
The boy continued to glare as the principal
continued, "Grace, in its
short definition is unmerited favor. You can
not earn it, it is a gift and
is always freely given. It means that you
will not be getting what you so richly deserve."
The boy looked puzzled. "Your not gonna whup
me? You just gonna let me walk?"
The principal looked down at the unyielding
child. "Yes, I am going to let you walk."
The boy studied the face of the principal,
"No punishment at all? Even
though I socked Tommy and shoved his face
into the sandbox?"
"Oh, there has to be punishment. What you
did was wrong and there are always consequences to our actions.
There will be punishment. Grace is not an
excuse for doing wrong."
"I knew it," Sneered the boy as he held out
his hands. "Lets get on with it."
The principal nodded toward the teacher. "Bring
me the belt."
The teacher presented the belt to the principal.
He carefully folded it in two and then handed it back to the
teacher.
He looked at the child and said. "I want you
to count the blows."
He slid out from behind his desk and walked
over to stand directly in
front of the young man. He gently reached
out and folded the child's
outstretched, expectant hands together and
then turned to face the teacher with his own hands outstretched. One
quiet word came forth from his mouth.
"Begin."
The belt whipped down on the outstretched
hands of the principal.
Crack!
The young man jumped ten feet in the air.
Shock registered across his face,
"One" he whispered.
Crack! "Two." His voice raised an octave.
Crack! "Three..." He couldn't believe this.
Crack! "Four." Big tears welled up in the
eyes of the rebel."OK stop!
That's enough. Stop!"
Crack! Came the belt down on the callused
hands of the principal.
Crack! The child flinched with each blow,
tears beginning to stream down his face.
Crack!
Crack! "No please", the former rebel begged,
"Stop, I did it, I'm the one who deserves it. Stop! Please. Stop..."
Still the blows came, Crack! Crack! One after
another.
Finally it was over. The principal stood with
sweat glistening across his
forehead and beads trickling down his face.
Slowly he knelt down. He
studied the young man for a second and then
his swollen hands reached out to cradle the face of the weeping
child.