There Was a Boy

The other day I saw a boy who made me cry.  He was walking down the sidewalk, hugging the tall bushes that reached over him.  Lilac bushes with no flowers left.  It must have been his trying to hide from all eyes that caught my attention.  He was about 15 or 16 years old with unkempt hair.  His black suit pants were six inches from the tops of his shoes, showing his white socks and some of the skin of his leg.  His tie was askew, and his eyes were cloudy.  He looked so unhappy, and so angry, that it hurt to look at him.  From our location, I knew that he was there for a youth camp.  I'm sure his parents sent him there to make friends, but I wondered how kind people were to him.  As we passed, I wanted to stop and ask him to tell me about it.  To tell me what was wrong, to see if I could help.  I didn't know what to say to him that would make it all any better.  I smiled at him, hoping it would communicate to him that someone cared, that I cared.  Guilt rode me all the way home, and when I finally got there, I cried.  

Yesterday I went to a retreat for work and had a great time.  We were all put in groups with people that we didn't know very well, and because I chose a service group, many of the people I met were older women.  I loved to hear their stories.  Throughout the day I began to notice a middle-aged woman who never seemed to talk to anyone else.  She was slightly over-weight, never smiled, and ate at every meal by herself.  We had a class together and she didn't talk to anyone.  I wished that someone would talk to her and wondered why she was alone and seemingly unhappy. 

It was at the end of the day when I noticed that she was again by herself that I remembered the sad boy who I had wanted to talk to.  Here was another opportunity and I didn't want to miss it.  I went and sat by her and talked to her.  She was shy, and had a beautiful soft voice.  She told me a little bit about herself at my prompting, and I also learned she asks very good questions about others.  We didn't talk for very long, but I learned that she is beautiful.  

Just like the boy is beautiful.

I missed an opportunity with the boy, but life is merciful, and God is merciful, and sometimes we get new chances to do what we wished we would have.  To change part of the world in a small moment, to make someone happy.  

And perhaps, greatest of all, to change ourselves.