A Special Teacher

Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on that first day of school in the Fall and told the children a lie.

Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils, saying she loved each of them the same, that she would treat them all alike.

But that was impossible for there in front of her, slumped in his third row seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs.Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkempt and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant. It got to the point during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then highlighting the "F" at the top of the paper.

Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to enjoy him either. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's records and delayed Teddy's until last. She opened his file, and found a surprise.

His first-grade teacher had written, and I quote, "Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners. He is a joy to be around."

His second-grade teacher had penned, "Teddy is an excellent student, well-liked by all his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third-grade teacher had noted, "Teddy continues to work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth-grade teacher had commented, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and often falls asleep in class. He is tardy and could become a more serious problem."

By now Mrs. Thompson realized the extent of the problem, but Christmas was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus again on Teddy Stoddard.

Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a scissored grocery bag.

Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter as she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed behind after class just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to."

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching Reading, Writing, & Speaking. Instead, she began to teach Children. Jean Thompson paid very particular attention to one they all called "Teddy." As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On the days when there would be an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne.

By the end of the year he had become one of the highest achieving children in the class and, well, he had also somewhat become, the "pet" of that teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.

A year later, she found a note under her door from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his favorite.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.

Four years later, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors.

He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.

Four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite teacher but that now, his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. For there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married.

He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

And on that special day, Jean Thompson wore that bracelet, the one with the rhinestones missing.

And on that special day, Jean Thompson smelled the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas together.

The Blind Woman

The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young woman with the white cane made her way carefully 
up the steps. 
She paid the driver and, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, 
walked down the aisle and found the seat he'd told her was empty. The
n she's settled in, placed her briefcase on her lap and rested her cane against her leg. 

It had been a year since Susan became blind. Due to a medical misdiagnosis she had been rendered sightless, 
and she was suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration and self-pity.
 'How could this have happened to me?' she would plead, 
her heart knotted with anger. But no matter how much she cried or ranted or prayed, 
she knew the painful truth, her sight was 
never going to return. A cloud of depression hung over Susan's once optimistic spirit. 
All she had to cling to was her husband Mark. 

Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved Susan with all his heart. 
When she first lost her sight, he watched her sink into despair and was determined to 
help his wife gain the strength she needed to become independent again. 
Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but how would she get there? 
She used to take the bus, but was now too frightened to get around the city by 
herself. Mark volunteered to drive her to work each day, even though they worked at opposite ends of the city. 
At first, this comforted Susan and fulfilled 
Mark's need to protect his sightless wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest task. 
Soon, however Mark realized that this arrangement wasn't  working - it was hectic, and costly. 

Susan is going to have to start taking the bus again, he admitted to himself. 
But just the thought of mentioning it to her made him cringe. 
She was still so fragile, so angry. How would she react? Just as Mark predicted, 
Susan was horrified at the idea of taking the bus again. 
"I'm blind!" she responded bitterly. "How am I supposed to know where I'm going?
I feel like you're abandoning me." 
Mark's heart broke but he knew what had to be done. 
He promised Susan that each day he would ride the bus with her until she got the hang of it.
And that is exactly what happened. For two solid weeks, Mark, military uniform and all,
 accompanied Susan to and from work each day.
 He taught her how to rely on her other senses to determine where she was and how to adapt to her new environment. 
He helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch out for her, 
and save her a seat. Each morning they made the journey together, 
and Mark would take a cab back to his office. 

Although this routine was even more costly and exhausting than the previous one, 
Mark knew it was only a matter of time before Susan 
would be able to ride the bus on her own. Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. 
Monday morning arrived, and before she left, she threw her 
arms around Mark, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her best friend. 
Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty,
 his patience, his love. She said good-bye, and for the first time, they went their separate ways. 
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.... 
Each day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. 

On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as usual. As she was paying for her fare to exit the bus, 
the driver said, "Boy, I sure envy you." 
Susan wasn't sure if the driver was speaking to her or not. After all, 
who on earth would ever envy a blind woman who had struggled just to 
find the courage to live for the past year? "Why do you envy me?" The driver responded, 
"It must feel so good to be taken care of and protected like you are." 
Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, 
"What do you mean?" The driver said, "You know, every morning for the past week, 
a fine looking gentleman in a military uniform has
 been standing across the corner watching you when you get off the bus. 
He makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches you 
until you enter your office building. Then he blows you a kiss, 
gives you a little salute and walks away. You are one lucky lady." 


Tears of happiness poured down Susan's cheeks. For although she couldn't see him, 
she had always felt Mark's presence. She was blessed, 
so blessed, for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, 
a gift she didn't need to see to believe - the gift of love that can bring light 
where there had been darkness.

The Divorce

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy.

I was a strong and happy bridegroom. This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. 

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy.
But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.

Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife.

When we were just married, my wife said, Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.

Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife. But I couldn't help doing so.

I moved Dew's hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I've got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.  

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.

Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently, she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn't imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, James, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you... She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce... I raised the topic calmly.
She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chop sticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage.
But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Dew. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company... She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Dew so dearly.
Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Dew. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage. This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that everyday for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door every morning. I thought she was going crazy... Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.
I told Dew about my wife's divorce conditions... She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully...
My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time... I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.
On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Dew about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, "all my dresses have grown bigger…” I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me... she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mum out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.
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On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy. I drove to office.... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind.... I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I do not want the divorce anymore. She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death does apart. Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears.
I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The sales girl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.
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That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I ran up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead....... I cried and cried uncontrollably and carried her for the last time from the room to the hall with tears streaming down my face and gazing at my only son, his tears rolling from his eyes, they made me cry even more. I had lost my love, my wife and a loving and caring mother and nothing I could do now to put the clock backward... I had all the time now to look at her motionless body in detail but I knew it was going to be only for a short while until she made her last journey to the Lord..... I held my son and wept again and again thinking of all the things I did not do for her when she was still alive....... & placed gently the flowers in her hands with my tears trickling on them....... she was gone forever, all my tears would not bring her back .

The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship.
It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank.
These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.
So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy.
Do have a real happy marriage!

The Doll

I was walking around in a store. I saw a cashier hand this little boy his money back saying, "I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll." Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: "Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?" The old lady replied, "You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear."Then she asked him to stay there for five minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand. Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. "It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for this Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her."


I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus will bring it to her after all and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly, "No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there."


His eyes were so sad while saying this: "My sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister."
My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said, "I told Daddy to tell Mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall." Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me, "I want Mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me."
"I love my Mommy, and I wish she didn't have to leave me, but Daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister." Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly. I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy, "What if we checked again, just in case you do have enough money?"
"Okay," he said. "I hope that I have enough." I added some of my money to his without him seeing, and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said, "Thank you God for giving me enough money!"
Then he looked at me and added, "I asked yesterday before I slept for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll so that Mommy can give it to my sister. He heard me! I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my Mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose. My Mommy loves white roses."
A few minutes later, the old lady came again, and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then, I remembered a local newspaper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck who hit a car where there was one young lady and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-assisting machine because the young lady would not be able to recover from the coma.
Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young lady had passed away. I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was displayed for people to see and make last wishes before burial.
She was there in her coffin holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever. The love that this little boy had for his mother and his sister is still hard to imagine.