A
FRIEND FROM A DISTANT LAND
"It was a beautiful thing that you came
alongside me in my troubles" (Philippians 4:13, The Message).
As a
shy, overweight child growing up in a working class neighborhood on Staten
Island, New York, I always felt like an outsider. Even in my first-grade class, other children
had friends, cliques and little "romances." Few befriended the unpopular girl they called
"fatso."
I
remember wishing I could become invisible.
That way the teacher wouldn’t call on me and ask math questions I
couldn’t answer. Classmates would
snicker as I struggled and stammered.
After I
entered second grade, a new student joined the class. Our teacher introduced the blond boy with a
cherubic face and eyes mature beyond his years.
"This
is Michael. He moved here from California, near Disneyland."
My
classmates and I looked approvingly at each other. Michael seemed to come from
some magical, faraway land and we all wanted to be his friend. I could scarcely
believe his instant affinity for me.
He was
always at my side, whether in the lunchroom, the schoolyard, or walking me to
and from school.
Michael
would also step between taunting classmates and me. Although gentle, he spoke with authority.
"Leave
her alone! She’s my girlfriend and she’s
pretty and smart."
Pretty and smart—me?
My
mother had said those words, but that's what moms are supposed to say. Michael made me wonder if they might be true.
I began
inviting Michael to play at my apartment after school. Each day, Mom greeted us with milk and
cookies. Despite the treats and good
times, Michael would keep glancing at the clock, then suddenly run home.
When I
asked him why he did this, panic rushed into his voice.
"My
daddy wants me home on time! If I'm not there, he'll spank me."
One
wintry day as Michael and I played outside, my mother made some shocking
observations. Michael wasn’t wearing a
coat. His shoes had holes.
Rummaging
through our closets, my mother pulled out an old jacket of mine and gave it to
Michael. She also gave him an old, but
intact pair of my shoes that didn't look girlish. I was glad to share what I had.
The
rest of that school year, Michael and I enjoyed each other's company. And when he visited, my mother watched the
time for him. But when school closed for
summer vacation, I lost track of Michael.
When classes resumed in autumn, he wasn't there.
"Where
is he?" I asked several classmates.
"I
think he moved back to California to be with his mom," one answered,
treating me with new respect.
This
attitude extended to other classmates.
But I started treating myself with respect, too—talking with and
befriending other children. After
school, we’d ride bikes, play stickball and visit each other in our homes. That year, lasting friendships were
made. No longer did I feel like an
outsider.
Even
though I continued to struggle with math, I discovered I had other skills, such
as reading and writing. I wished Michael
could have shared my joy, especially after I began losing weight. Although I never saw him again, I knew that
even if I remained forever awkward and overweight, Michael would have still
been my friend. He understood my pain,
because he knew it so well. I hoped he
was finding a better life and being rewarded for his kindness.
"He
was like a little angel," my mother said after he left.
Maybe
she was right. Michael came to me just when I needed him and left when his job
was done.
This true story is a sample devotion from Flora's devotional book, "Where Your Heart Meets God's," which explores the many ways God whispers our name.
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