Kate and Mr. X

I never want to forget how I have felt about Kate this week.

I have frequently thought how much I love her sweet nature and kind ways. This week, on two separate occasions, adults in her life have reached out to me to say things like, "Your child is so incredibly kind and good." I have felt so touched that Heavenly Father has trusted a coarse person like myself with such a sweet soul. On Easter, Grandma Go-Go (my mom's mom), fell at my mom's house and cut her head open. In the moment of panic and care for Go-Go, I failed to realize that Kate had seen everything; I thought she had been so busy with Easter eggs that the worst of it had gone over her head. Go-Go, Bruce, and my mom spent several hours on Easter Sunday in the emergency room while she received a cat scan, an x-ray, and 12 stitches in her forehead. Grandma was sent home a little worse for wear but overall okay. It was only after I tucked Kate in bed that night that I heard her crying quietly in her room. I went to her to find out what was wrong, and she was still so worried about her great-grandma. We talked about that, and I was so touched by the depth of the feelings Kate had for Go-Go. I pray that nothing in this life ever takes away her ability to care and feel for others.

The morning after, on my way home from taking Kate to school, I saw a little boy running to school. He was bouncing a basketball in front of him, he was running as fast as he could, his hood had blown off and was flapping behind him, and he had the biggest smile and a look of pure joy on his face. It was only as I got closer that I recognized him. It was, as I shall say, Mr. X. (I have enough readership in the neighborhood that I'm not even going to identify by first initial. Sorry.) Mr. X comes from a pretty tough family situation. I only have seen the tip of the iceberg, but it will suffice to say that this child has probably spent a decent portion of his life afraid, sad, or confused. He recently knocked on my door on his way home from school to ask me for help because some boys had been spitting on him. I remember in the moment, as I phoned his home, feeling so sad for this child who seemed almost destined for a life of trials. I find it hard to express how emotional I was when I recognized that Mr. X was this delighted and happy boy running towards the school. I learned a life lesson in an instant: No matter how great our pain or how deep our sadness, it is truly temporary. Maybe this moment of pure joy was only a moment or an aberration for Mr X, but HE HAD IT. Happiness is truly available to all.