There is this one little girl in my class who writes me notes and draws me pictures almost daily. Last week, she drew a picture of me, Mr. M., and our son. I am neither pregnant nor have I ever indicated any desire for children to my students. Still, she drew our son and labeled him, your son, the king. I walked away thinking, does she know something I don’t?
Today’s picture left me equally unsettled. It was a picture of me with the words Love is Truth printed across my body. Randomly deep words that clung to me for the rest of the day. Up until last week, her drawings never had these messages. They were always of the simpler You’re-the-best-teacher-ever variety. Now they’re cryptic, little fortunes hidden in brightly colored scenery.
Chances are, these words are just an expression of her affection. But to me, they’re oddly wise and prophetic. Love is truth. When I first read this, I smiled, caught off guard by her wisdom. Sometimes, in the middle of everything, distracted by the bustle of a thousand little unimportant things, unexpectedly deep words carry more weight.
Thank you, child. Love is truth, I agree. And, if I have a son first, I’ll think you’re able to see things I cannot. Or, then again, maybe you have just been paying more attention than usual at Sunday school and are confusing me for the Virgin Mary. Either way, your messages give me something to think about.