The scent of honeysuckle filled the air, where Lauren and Cindy sat on a patchwork jean blanket under a maple tree in Lauren's yard, sipping iced peppermint tea.
“Cindy, I don't know what to do. Alex is a straight A student, and yet she's always down on herself. I try to encourage her, but she always tells me she's not worth anything. I'm at the end of my rope trying to get her to see herself as God sees her and the worth she has in Him.”
“Do you mind if I share my story with you?” Lauren asked.
“Not at all. Please do.” Cindy leaned back against the tree. She had a far away look in her eyes as she began.
“When I was a junior in high school I was a straight A student too, but I felt the same way Alex does. It didn't matter how many teachers told me how bright I was, or that my parents commented constantly how proud they were of me for being so smart.
“The only worth I felt was because of my grades. It was the only thing people seemed to care about; how academically brilliant I was.
“I often cried myself to sleep at night because no one bothered to see the real me. They didn't know my hopes and dreams, what I was passionate about. All they saw was 'Ace'.”
Lauren raised her eyebrows
at that.
“Yeah,” Cindy continued, “that's what everyone called me. It stung, but I never let on that it bothered me.
“One day I walked into my English Lit class and a different teacher stood at the front. She was a petite woman, with curly brown hair, a bit plain looking, but she had a smile that lit up her face as she greeted each one of us students as we entered the room. When we were settled in our seats she said, 'My name is Mrs. Cortina. I'll be your teacher until the end of the term as Mr. Tatum has had a family emergency and needed to take a leave of absence. I would like each of you to take out a piece of paper and write an essay on why you enjoy English Literature. Show me through your words what it is that moves you when you read a book by Charles Dickens, or Charlotte Bronte, or any other author that draws you in. I'm not going to grade your essays, it's purely for fun and getting to know what you like.' “I was excited as I wrote. My hand couldn't move my pen quickly enough across the page. Thoughts flowed like a fast moving stream during snow runoff.”
Lauren chuckled. “It was the weekend, and Monday when we walked back into class, Mrs. Cortina told us she wanted to meet with each one of us individually to talk about what we had written. When she met with me later that week, she didn't just talk about my paper, but asked me questions about what in my life drew me to write what I had, other than my love for the work of the author I had chosen. She listened to me and for the first time in my life, I knew the thrill of being heard and seen, and felt I had something worth sharing with the world. Lauren, take time to sit down with Alex. Ask her questions about her hopes and dreams, what she's passionate about and even what she may fear. Really listen to her with your heart. Listening to others isn't something that's easily done, but it is necessary. Too often, we don't understand how to help people because we don't listen. When Mrs. Cortina listened to me, I felt a sense of worth; a dignity I'd never felt before.”
“Wow, Cindy, thank you. I appreciate you sharing that with me. I'll take the time tonight to talk with Alex, and listen to her.”
“You're welcome. I hope and pray it will be a fruitful evening for you. I caution you, that she may rebuff you at first because this may be out of the norm, but keep at it, and I'm sure, over time, it will strengthen both of you, as you learn to listen and as she feels safe sharing her heart with you.”
The two women hugged, then continued sipping their tea as they enjoyed the warm afternoon sun and easy conversation.