Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
I stood watching him pound his fingers hard and fast over the piano keys, his brows furrowed in concentration, his tune without skill or purpose.
“Do you like how I play?” he haltingly asked.
I had known him for all of ten minutes, and admired his open vulnerability and at the exact same time hurt for all the insecurities bundled inside this little soul.
“Yes,” I responded, praying for words that would nourish. “I love how hard you work on playing. I like seeing how much you enjoy that.”
His face radiated joy.
I felt pained that something so small could offer joy so obvious.
He didn’t want my attention to turn elsewhere; “Do you like my name?” he asked eagerly.
“You have a lovely name. A strong name.”
I feared a pattern forming of him seeking affirmation and so changed the subject; “Are you excited about school?”
A small sigh escaped his lips and a small voice replied; “I don’t know. Daddy said I need to be the smartest in my class.”
“And what do you want to be?” I asked. I don’t know why. I uttered the question without much thought, apart from a keen awareness that his response seemed to indicate he felt burdened.
“I don’t know. I don’t know how to be smart” he whispered in a voice even smaller than the previous.
And then, as if he felt the need to prove how un-smart he was, he said with certainty; “I can only count to 30. I don’t know how to count to 100. I’m not smart.”
I laughed to lighten the tenseness that had grown, “To count to 100 one must be able to count to 30 first. Every smart person that can count to 100 started by being a smart person that could count to 30. You are smart for knowing how to count to 30, and you are well on your way to counting to 100.”
It felt like a weak answer, but I didn’t know what else to say.
He smiled, and the moment blurred into a whir of busy play.
That exchange with a little boy I barely know touched me deeply.
The precious gift of a young child, naive enough to open himself up, to be vulnerable and yet articulate enough to convey a true depth of feeling.
A child who had been fed a lie of a line that can only lead to shame and excuses, rather than the truth of the matter; we are all smart, some of us have to work harder in some areas than others.
And the most important truth; we are all created by God – His masterpiece, as one translation puts it (Ephesians 2:10) – created for good works and His glory. How different would our own lives, and those around us, be if we lived fully secure in this truth? He knows us – our quirks, our strengths, our handicaps … and He loves us.
Feel free to leave a comment for me!
The post I Don’t Know How to be Smart appeared first on JessicaLynette.com.
