Twenty-three Third Graders

I love studying human behaviors.  People watching.  Love it.

When I was a young girl, our family reconnected with my mom's cousin who had been orphaned and then adopted by another family.  Years later, he found his birth family.

Jim had four daughters.  My age or close to my age and I was in love with my new cousins.  We had a blast.

One day before we were supposed to spend the weekend together, we received the call that he had a massive heart attack while getting his "going away for the weekend" haircut.

I had not been to many funerals at this point in my life.  And as I made it through the receiving line at the funeral, I got to my cousin and said this "when I heard about your dad, I was so shocked I almost died." 

Yep.  I said it.  Still remember how stupid I felt.  Still remember.  Almost 40 years later and my stupid comment still stings. 


When I divorced my first husband, I lost friends.  No biggie, goes without saying that this will happen.  What I was not prepared for was the one family that dumped me.  I loved them and loved the kids.  They lived next door to me and my favorite part of the day was the kids knocking on my door to see if I had "any more of those weppermint (they could not say peppermint) patties in the freezer?"  Every day.  Every day they came.  Every day I gave.

When I moved out, no calls, no invites, no return calls, nothing.  When I ran into the mom, (also my friend) at a Jiffy Lube, it was beyond awkward.  I looked at her and said, "what happened with us?"

Her answer will always stump me.  She was a smart lady.  Never was she at a loss for words.  Ever.  And then she answers, "I didn't know what to say to you."

A for Honesty but F for effort. 

My response, "How about hello?  Hello?  Universal, hello. I wasn't divorcing you, just the man I married.  Hello would have been great."

Needless to say, we are not friends anymore. 

So, fast forward to today...a young paralyzed son.

You have two groups of folks, those who cannot wait for the waiter to take the drink order to just let it rip, "how is the button?" or the other group who never even acknowledges that you even have an older son. 

Some people have a knack for saying the perfect sentiment at the perfect moment.  My mom is one of those people.  She can look at somebody in a receiving line at funeral or a wedding and the perfect phrase slips off her tongue like butter. 

I think some folks don't ever acknowledge things because they are afraid they will say something stupid, like I did that night at the funeral home.  Guess it is better not to say anything than to say something so stupid that it stays with you the rest of your life. 

And, those who ask, who just lay it out there, I know they ask because they want to feel better too.  And, I don't mind at all.

And those who ask, also "just do".

Today I went to see a client.  I got there the same exact moment as the delivery truck did.  Guess who won?

So I went to a coffee house to work on my list of things to do and have a cup of java.  There was a group of folks sitting around talking.

Again, I was working.  This group just went on and on and said whatever they wanted like I wasn't even there.

My ears perked up when someone said, "the youth of today isn't worth a damn."  I looked up.  Most of them were looking at me looking at them.  I said nothing.

This time, I really looked at the group.  Motley.  Old, young, seniors, males, females.  Motley. 

"They don't do anything, work, contribute, inspire or aspire. Worthless."

I put my eyes down.  I wondered, what young folk do they know?

They continued and thankfully, I got the text.  Truck was unloaded.  I gathered up my stuff and one of the gentlemen says to me, "do you feel the same about the young people today?"

"No, I sure don't," and off I went.

I swear I heard him ask, "what's up with her?"


Anyway, I thought about the fellow and his comment and how sad it must be for him not to know someone in marching band, boy scouts, studying abroad, a dancer or an athlete.   As the day went by, I forgot about him and his motley crew.

I got back to my office ready to conquer the rest of the day, I sat back in my chair, and I tilted my head.  I saw it immediately, a little piece of paper sticking out from the rug.  I reached down and there was a return address that I had ripped off from an envelope to save. 

Funny, just last week, "this" came up.  The return address from a school in Atlanta. 

Weeks ago, I caught home late.  I was dirty with a capital D.  I smelled like a construction worker.  I had driven to Franklin's daughter's house to paint the nursery for the new baby.  I painted trim, ceilings and walls.  And then hung pictures and decorated for the baby.  I was dirty.  Filthy and tired.

I got home very late and my entire family was in bed.  It was late and dark and I just wanted to sit in my chair with a cup of tea and a clean face.  I sat down with the mail.   There was a huge envelope addressed to us.  Of course I was saving this for last.  I read the other mail, wished for a goat to eat our bills and then opened the large envelope. 

Wasn't sure what I thought would be in there....but I was overwhelmed.  A third grade class, somewhere in the Atlanta suburbs had put the button on the prayer list at school.  In addition, they made cards for the button.

Handmade cards with third grade penmanship and thoughts.  I sat there, late in the night....reading each card.  Crayons, markers, Peace signs, Sponge Bobs and misspelled words....all priceless.

And then there it was, "You can do this.  You have 23 3rd graders praying for you."  Ok, I cracked up.  Laughed hysterically.  And then I wept uncontrollably.  For the first time, I came unglued.  Who knew the 23  anonymous third graders had this type of power.

The next morning, my daughter asks  me, "Mom, did you see the letters? 


"Yes, as I smiled.  I was hoping she didn't notice my swollen eyes from the weep fest the night before. 
Then she says, "You know, there are 23 third graders praying for the button."  We both looked at one another and laughed.  It was our favorite. 

The power of 23 third graders, that you do not even know, is amaze balls.  Twenty three letters of HOPE and encouragement to people they didn't even know.  And twenty three letters of acknowledgement of prayers from them.

I will never forget reading those letters and laughing and feeling so inspired by them.  And I aspire to be like the kind teacher who took this project on.  The value of these letters was priceless.

I need to find that man from today.  He needs 23 third graders praying for him.  He will be unstoppable.