Thinking with the heart:
What we are is God's gift to us.  What we make of ourselves is our gift back to God.

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn.  All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Elkhound was one in a million.  He was very neat in appearance, but he had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.

Mark talked incessantly.  I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable.  What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving.  "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!"

I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.  One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake.  I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I'm going to tape your mouth shut!"

I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.  I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning.  I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape.  Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth then returned to the front of the room.  As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me.  That did it!  I started laughing.  The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math.  The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again.  He was more handsome than ever and just as polite.  Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he didn't talk as much in ninth grade as he had in third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right.  We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves and edgy with one another.  I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand, so I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.  Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled.  Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister.  Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about the individual.  On Monday I gave each student his or her list.  Before long, the entire class was smiling.  "Really?" I heard whispered, "I never knew that meant anything to anyone."  "I never knew others liked me so much!"

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again.  I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter.  The exercise had accomplished its purpose.  The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on.  Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport.  As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general.  There was a lull in the conversation.  Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?"  My father cleared his throat as he usually did before he said something important.  "The Elkhounds called last night," he began.  "Really?" I said.  "I haven't heard from them in years.  I wonder how Mark is."

Dad responded quietly, "Mark was killed in Viet Nam," he said.  "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend."  To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before.  Mark looked so handsome, so mature.  All I could think at that moment was:  Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.

The church was packed with Mark's friends.  Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."  Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral?  It was difficult enough at the graveside.  The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps.  One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last one to bless the coffin.  As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me.  "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked.  I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin.  "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's (farm house restaurant) for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me.  "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket.  "They found this on Mark when he was killed.  We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times.  I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.  "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said.  "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us.  Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list.  It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."  Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album."  "I have mine, too," Marylin said.  "It's in my diary."

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frayed list to the group.  "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash.  "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried.  I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

Written by Sister Helen P. Mrosia

This prose poem, originally untitled, was written by Max Ehrmann in Terre Haute, Indiana in the early 1920's. In 1921, Max Ehrmann wrote in his diary:

Desiderata Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul. With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Strive to be happy. ~ Max Ehrmann ~

---

"I should like, if I could, to leave a humble gift--a bit of chaste prose that had caught up some noble moods," the result was Desiderata.          © Linda Gadbois

---

                  Everybody Knows:
    You can't be all things to all people.
    You can't do all things at once.
    You can't do all things equally well.
    You can't do all things better than everyone else.
    Your humanity is showing just like everyone else's.

    So:
    You have to find out who you are, and be that.
    You have to decide what comes first, and do that.
    You have to discover your strengths, and use them.
    You have to learn not to compete with others,
    Because no one else is in the contest of *being you*.
 
    Then:
 
    You will have learned to accept your own uniqueness.
    You will have learned to set priorities and make decisions.
    You will have learned to live with your limitations.
    You will have learned to give yourself the respect that is due.
    And you'll be a most vital mortal.
    Dare To Believe:
 
    That you are a wonderful, unique person.
    That you are a once-in-all-history event.
    That it's more than a right, it's your duty, to be who you are.
    That life is not a problem to solve, but a gift to cherish.
    And you'll be able to stay one up on what used to get you down.

I Have Learned..... I've learned - that you cannot make someone love you.
All you can do is be someone who can be loved.
The rest is up to them.

I've learned - that no matter how much I care,
some people just don't care back.

I've learned - that it takes years to build up trust,
and only seconds to destroy it.

I've learned - that it's not what you have in your life
but who you have in your life that counts.

 I've learned -  that you can get by on charm  for about fifteen minutes.
 After that, you'd better know something.

 I've learned -  that you shouldn't compare
 yourself to the best others can do

 I've learned -  that it's not what happens to people  that's important. It's what they
 do about it.  but do the best you can do.

 I've learned -  that you can do something in an instant
 that will give you heartache for life.

 I've learned -  that no matter how thin you slice it,
 there are always two sides.

 I've learned -  that it's taking me a long time
 to become the person I want to be.

 I've learned -  that it's a lot easier
 to react than it is to think.

 I've learned -  that you should always leave
 loved ones with loving words.  It may be the last time you see them.

 I've learned -  that you can keep going
 long after you think you can't.

 I've learned -  that we are responsible for what we do,
 no matter how we feel.

 I've learned -  that either you control your attitude
 or it controls you.

 I've learned -  that regardless of how hot and steamy
 a relationship is at first,  the passion fades and there had better be
 something else to take its place.

 I've learned -  that heroes are the people
 who do what has to be done  when it needs to be done,
 regardless of the consequences.

 I've learned -  that learning to forgive takes practice.

 I've learned -  that there are people who love you dearly,
 but just don't know how to show it.

 I've learned -  that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

 I've learned -  that my best friend and I can do anything
 or nothing and have the best time.

 I've learned -  that sometimes the people you expect
 to kick you when you're down  will be the ones to help you get back up.

 I've learned -  that sometimes when I'm angry
 I have the right to be angry,  but that doesn't give me
 the right to be cruel.

 I've learned -  that true friendship continues to grow,
 even over the longest distance.  Same goes for true love.

 I've learned -  that just because someone doesn't love you
 the way you want them to doesn't mean  they don't love you with all they have.

 I've learned -  that maturity has more to do with
 what types of experiences you've had  and what you've learned from them
 and less to do with how many  birthdays you've celebrated.

 I've learned -  that you should never tell a child
 their dreams are unlikely or outlandish.  Few things are more humiliating, and
 what a tragedy it would be  if they believed it.

 I've learned -  that your family won't always
 be there for you. It may seem funny,  but people you aren't related to
 can take care of you and love you  and teach you to trust people again.
 Families aren't biological.

 I've learned -  that no matter how good a friend is,
 they're going to hurt you  every once in a while
 and you must forgive them for that.

 I've learned -  that it isn't always enough
 to be forgiven by others.  Sometimes you have to learn
 to forgive yourself.

 I've learned -  that no matter how bad
 your heart is broken  the world doesn't stop for your grief.

 I've learned -  that our background and circumstances
 may have influenced who we are,  but we are responsible for who we become.

 I've learned -  that sometimes when my friends fight,
 I'm forced to choose sides  even when I don't want to.

 I've learned -  that just because two people argue,
 it doesn't mean they don't love each other
 And just because they don't argue,  it doesn't mean they do.

 I've learned -  that sometimes you have to put
 the individual ahead of their actions.

 I've learned -  that we don't have to change friends
 if we understand that friends change.

 I've learned -  that you shouldn't be so
 eager to find out a secret.  It could change your life forever.

 I've learned -  that two people can look
 at the exact same thing  and see two different things

 I've learned -  that no matter how you try to protect
 your children, they will eventually get hurt
 and you will hurt in the process.

 I've learned -  that there are many ways of falling
 and staying in love.

 I've learned -  that no matter the consequences,
 those who are honest with themselves  get farther in life

 I've learned -  that no matter how many friends you have,
 if you are their pillar you will feel lonely
 and lost at the times you need them most.

 I've learned -  that your life can be changed
 in a matter of hours  by people who don't even know you.

 I've learned -  that even when you think
 you have no more to give,  when a friend cries out to you,
 you will find the strength to help.

 I've learned -  that writing, as well as talking,
 can ease emotional pains.

 I've learned -  that the paradigm we live in
 is not all that is offered to us.

 I've learned -  that credentials on the wall
 do not make you a decent human being.

 I've learned  that the people you care most about in life
 are taken from you too soon.

 I've learned -  that although the word "love"
 can have many different meanings,  it loses value when overly used.

 I've learned -  that it's hard to determine
 where to draw the line  between being nice and
 not hurting people's feelings and standing up for what you believe.

  High Flight
-- John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
  Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Every Wemmick was different.  Some had big noses, others had large eyes.  Some were tall and others were short.  Some wore hats, others wore coats.  But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village.

And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers.  Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers.  Up and down the streets all over the city, people could be seen sticking stars or dots on one another.

The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars.  But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots.

The talented ones got stars, too.  Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes.  Still others knew big words or could sing very pretty songs.  Everyone gave them stars.

Some Wemmicks had stars all over them!  Every time they got a star it made them feel so good that they did something else and got another star.

Others though, could do little.  They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these.  He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell.  And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots.

Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots.  He would try to explain why he fell and say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots.

After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside.  He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot.  In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one without reason.

"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another.  "He's not a good wooden person."

After a while Punchinello believed them.  "I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say.

The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots.  He felt better around them.

One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met.  She had no dots or stars.  She was just wooden.  Her name was Lulia.

It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick.  Some admired Lulia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star.  But it would fall off.  Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot.  But it wouldn't stay either.

'That's the way I want to be,' thought Punchinello.  'I don't want anyone's marks.' So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it.

" It's easy," Lulia replied, "everyday I go to see Eli."
"Eli?  "
"Yes, Eli.  The woodcarver.  I sit in the workshop with him."
"Why?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself?  Go up the hill.  He's there." And with that the Wemmick with no marks turned and skipped away.

"But he won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out.  Lulia didn't hear.  So Punchinello went home.  He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots.  "It's not right," he muttered to himself.  And he resolved to go see Eli.

He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop.  His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything.  The stool was as tall as he was.  He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench.  A hammer was as long as his arm.  Punchinello swallowed hard.
"I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave.

Then he heard his name.
"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong.
Punchinello stopped.
"Punchinello!  How good to see you.  Come and let me have a look at you."

Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman.  "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.

"Of course I do.  I made you."

Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench.  "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he inspected the gray circles.  "Looks like you've been given some bad marks."

"I didn't mean to, Eli.  I really tried hard."

"Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child.  I don't care what the other Wemmicks think."

You don't?"

"No, and you shouldn't either.  Who are they to give stars or dots?

They're Wemmicks just like you.  What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello.  All that matters is what I think.  And I think you are pretty special."

Punchinello laughed.  "Me, special?  Why?  I can't walk fast.  I can't jump.  My paint is peeling.  Why do I matter to you?"

Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly.  "Because you're mine.  That's why you matter to me."

Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this--much less his maker.  He didn't know what to say.

"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.

"I came because I met someone who had no marks."

"I know.  She told me about you."
"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"

"Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think.  The stickers only stick if you let them."

"What?"

"The stickers only stick if they matter to you.  The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You will, but it will take time.  You've got a lot of marks.  For now,  just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care."

Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground.

"Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door.  "You are special because I made you.  And I don't make mistakes."

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, "I think he really means it."

And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.

--by Max Lucado   From the book, "Tell Me The Secrets"