The day was perfect. The sky was blue with just a hint of clouds, and the air was just warm enough for a light jacket. I smiled as I unpacked my supplies for Sunday School — the sidewalk chalk for the art project, the picture book that explains the Easter story, and the 80 plastic eggs I bought and stuffed for the children I expected.
After putting down my things in my classroom, I went into our beautiful courtyard to spread the eggs. The bright colors of the plastic eggs against the new spring green of new grass and freshly planted flowers made me smile. I tucked the eggs into flower pots, the twisted crooks of the crepe myrtles, up under the bell, and behind the painted display of the empty cross and tomb.
The children arrived, dressed in beautiful pastels. A beautiful hand printed Easter card was presented to me with a smile. We put names on white lunch bags and headed out to gather the eggs. “I found one!” was happily shouted, as the adults watching smiled and laughed.
We all wandered back inside to use wet chalk over painters tape in the shape of a cross to make a painted picture as the Easter story was read from a children’s Bible. We headed back outside for some more playground time before it was time for worship. “Watch me swing!” “Please push me!” — their voices just made the day more sweet.
But then, like cold water thrown in the face, came the harsh voice: “Oh great! More plastic eggs for me to throw away. Come on, let’s go.” And with that, she stomped out of my classroom with her child in tow.
Words. Presented on a beautiful hand lettered card with a smile.
Words. They can uplift the heart and make you smile.
Words. They can be used as a weapon, thrown from the hurt inside, without care of those that are hit in the process.