The Hand
It was nearing Thanksgiving and the
teacher had just given the children instructions to draw something for
which they were very thankful. As she looked at the children she
thought in her heart: These poor little children
have so very little to
be thankful for - half fed, half clothed. What would they draw that
they were especially thankful for?
As her eyes wandered
over the room they finally came to David. Her heart went out
to him. He was so thin and uncared for, so shy. He didn't enter into the games with
the other boys for he wasn't able to hold his own with them. They rejected him. He
was a Jew and they were Protestants or Catholics. In spite of her best efforts
she knew they ridiculed his religion behind her back.
Always when she was on
duty on the playground, David would follow her about like
a shadow as she moved around. He pressed very close to her as if for
protection. What could he draw for which he was
especially thankful?
The drawings were
completed and she held them up for the class to see. There were
the usual turkeys, tables laden with good foods, pets, and people. But David
had drawn a hand and when she held it up she did not tell them
who had drawn it. It got many responses from the children. One
child said, "That is the hand of God, for he gives us
everything." Another said, "That represents the hands of the Prophets
who help us." The teacher felt grateful for these comments.
This drawing caused more comments then any of the others. But
David said nothing.
The teacher was curious,
so when the other children were busy working on their next
assignment she leaned close to David and she said softly and quietly, "Whose
hands are you especially grateful for, David?"
Looking up into her face
with tears in his eyes he said simply, "Yours."
Then she remembered the numerous
occasions when he had pressed closely to her and she had reached down and
taken his hand in hers and pressed it warmly. She had given
something of herself to this little boy that was most priceless to him and for what
he was eternally grateful.
Carol Riner