The Hand - Short Story
There is so much goodness scattered and imprinted throughout our daily lives and there is so much to be grateful for and to appreciate. We have a roof over our head, food to eat, clothes to wear. We did something really special and we are grateful for that opportunity. Something really amazing happened at work today. All of these are just a couple of examples of things one could be thankful for, things one could be grateful for.
The following story, which I first saw, a couple of years back, as a video presentation by the American actor, filmmaker and social media personality, Meir Kalmanson, widely known as Meir Kay and then read as a short story in a certain magazine, epitomizes the beauty and yet, the sincerity and simplicity of gratitude in a most moving and wonderful way.
I hope you find this story an enjoyable read
Yitzy Schweitzer
The following story, which I first saw, a couple of years back, as a video presentation by the American actor, filmmaker and social media personality, Meir Kalmanson, widely known as Meir Kay and then read as a short story in a certain magazine, epitomizes the beauty and yet, the sincerity and simplicity of gratitude in a most moving and wonderful way.
I hope you find this story an enjoyable read
Yitzy Schweitzer
The Hand - Short Story
In a school, on one bright, sunny, morning the first grade teacher, started off her class by writing on the board the following question:
"What is it you are grateful for?"
Turning to her students, she said,
"Today, boys and girls, let us take a couple of minutes and draw on the pieces of paper in front of you, something, or, someone, you are grateful for in your life. Taking the time for gratitude is something so important and wonderful for our happiness and peace of mind. It is also a great way to remind ourselves how incredibly lucky we are for what we have and who we have in our lives. Afterwards, we are going to share what we've drawn with the rest of the class. Let's begin".
As everyone started drawing the teacher was looking around at her students. There was John, a funny, lively kid with a great sense of humor. What would he be drawing right now? Than there was Sarah, a sweet and polite young lady, who always spoke with kindness and care. It would interesting to see what she would draw.
"Today, boys and girls, let us take a couple of minutes and draw on the pieces of paper in front of you, something, or, someone, you are grateful for in your life. Taking the time for gratitude is something so important and wonderful for our happiness and peace of mind. It is also a great way to remind ourselves how incredibly lucky we are for what we have and who we have in our lives. Afterwards, we are going to share what we've drawn with the rest of the class. Let's begin".
As everyone started drawing the teacher was looking around at her students. There was John, a funny, lively kid with a great sense of humor. What would he be drawing right now? Than there was Sarah, a sweet and polite young lady, who always spoke with kindness and care. It would interesting to see what she would draw.
Than, there was Simon.
Simon was a quiet, shy and deprived child. The teacher had often helped him out a lot with work or with friends and looking at him now she wondered about him. She did not know much about his home life, but knew it was not ideal. She often wondered what was going on behind those, sad, soft, and quite fear-filled, eyes. What could a child like him draw? This would be most interesting to find out.
Once everyone had finished, the teacher asked who wants to go first. Sarah put up her hand and when she was up in front of the class, she said "I'm thankful for for trees because they give me oxygen". The teacher smiled and complimented her saying how it was a very clever choice.
Next, she called on Jason. When he was up, he said, quite cheekily "I am thankful for my parents, because without them I would not even be here and also because they help me with my homework and I love them".
Another student said she was grateful for chocolate (I mean, I personally cannot blame that student, I LOVE chocolate) and another one was thankful for the police because they keep the road safe.
Finally, it was Simon's turn. The teacher looked in to those beautiful, soft, vulnerable eyes and called him up. When he did not come the teacher encouraged him "I'll be here with you, right up here." The boy, slowly and shyly, got up and walked over to his teacher and held up a picture of a hand. The teacher, sensing his shyness and fearfulness bent down and asked him, "How would you like to play a game with your classmates to see who can guess, whose hand you drew? Would you like that?"
The boy nodded and the teacher called out "Alright class. Can anyone guess whose hand Simon drew?" She called on one boy who said he thought it was a police officers hand, because, like it was mentioned before, they keep the road safe and protect everyone. But Simon turned to his teacher and shook his head. That was not the answer.
The teacher than called on one of the girls, who said "I think it is Simon's hand because he is grateful for his hands." The teacher laughed and turned to her student, who, smiling sweetly, shook his head no a second time.
"Is it the Hand of G-d?" Another student called out.
The boy turned to his teacher with a small tear in his eye, "Teacher" he whispered, "It's your hand"...
Suddenly, little snapshot of young Simon started going through the teachers head. She remembered how she had taken Simon out to help him get used to the playground, his hand vulnerably in her soft grip. Or how she had helped Simon cut out his pictures for his workbook, taking his hand, guiding him, one step at a time.
She gently touched him on his cheek. He looked up at her and she held her arms out.
The teacher embraced her dearly beloved student, those same hands that he felt so safe and secure with, wrapping themselves around his shoulders, as the love coursed through her veins and as bright tears fell from her eyes.
Simon was a quiet, shy and deprived child. The teacher had often helped him out a lot with work or with friends and looking at him now she wondered about him. She did not know much about his home life, but knew it was not ideal. She often wondered what was going on behind those, sad, soft, and quite fear-filled, eyes. What could a child like him draw? This would be most interesting to find out.
Once everyone had finished, the teacher asked who wants to go first. Sarah put up her hand and when she was up in front of the class, she said "I'm thankful for for trees because they give me oxygen". The teacher smiled and complimented her saying how it was a very clever choice.
Next, she called on Jason. When he was up, he said, quite cheekily "I am thankful for my parents, because without them I would not even be here and also because they help me with my homework and I love them".
Another student said she was grateful for chocolate (I mean, I personally cannot blame that student, I LOVE chocolate) and another one was thankful for the police because they keep the road safe.
Finally, it was Simon's turn. The teacher looked in to those beautiful, soft, vulnerable eyes and called him up. When he did not come the teacher encouraged him "I'll be here with you, right up here." The boy, slowly and shyly, got up and walked over to his teacher and held up a picture of a hand. The teacher, sensing his shyness and fearfulness bent down and asked him, "How would you like to play a game with your classmates to see who can guess, whose hand you drew? Would you like that?"
The boy nodded and the teacher called out "Alright class. Can anyone guess whose hand Simon drew?" She called on one boy who said he thought it was a police officers hand, because, like it was mentioned before, they keep the road safe and protect everyone. But Simon turned to his teacher and shook his head. That was not the answer.
The teacher than called on one of the girls, who said "I think it is Simon's hand because he is grateful for his hands." The teacher laughed and turned to her student, who, smiling sweetly, shook his head no a second time.
"Is it the Hand of G-d?" Another student called out.
The boy turned to his teacher with a small tear in his eye, "Teacher" he whispered, "It's your hand"...
Suddenly, little snapshot of young Simon started going through the teachers head. She remembered how she had taken Simon out to help him get used to the playground, his hand vulnerably in her soft grip. Or how she had helped Simon cut out his pictures for his workbook, taking his hand, guiding him, one step at a time.
She gently touched him on his cheek. He looked up at her and she held her arms out.
The teacher embraced her dearly beloved student, those same hands that he felt so safe and secure with, wrapping themselves around his shoulders, as the love coursed through her veins and as bright tears fell from her eyes.
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