By LINDIE GIBSON, Livingston
A number of years ago, I cleaned a home where the young son has an old wooden desk—the kind we had in school for a time—at Lincoln Junior High in study hall. It’s one of those one-piece affairs where the chair and desktop are attached with an open space under the seat to place your books. Apparently it was bought at an auction or second-hand sale, and it’s a sweetie. (although we didn’t think so at the time we were students and had to use them. It’s funny how our perspective changes as we grow older.)
On top of this desk are initials and names carved into the wood, and as I gazed at them, I thought about who these people were and speculated what their lives must’ve been like when they were in school and just how old these students must be today—after all, I know these carvings looked years older than my generation.
The carvings reminded me of the way each of our lives have been carved on by all the people and experiences that come into our lives and how, like that old desk, we still carry those carvings—some good and some not so good.
I remember sitting at a similar desk at Lincoln School in study hall, which was also the library and chorus and band hall during other class periods.
Other people have certainly had an impact on my life—like Rob Cameron—sitting behind me in study hall when he was in 8th and I was in 7th, and I remember him taking his pen and ever-so-carefully hooking the tip of his pen into the top of my dress and carefully unzipping it one zipper-tooth at a time—the whole while with me sitting there pretending not to feel what was going on so as to not spoil his fun. I knew the zipper would only go as far down as the top of the chair back—and so I wasn’t that concerned.
To this day, I know he doesn’t even realize I graciously allowed him to entertain himself and his friends sitting nearby—at my expense—rather than my letting on I knew and felt what was going on. It was one of those moments where I found no harm in letting him think he was really smart and pulling a prank.
I could hear his friends whispering about me, and I could hear the sneers and whispered giggles behind my back. What did they think, that I was deaf?
That experience is just a small memory and mark left on my life carved into the desktop of my memories of my school days. It was a precious moment in time where I allowed someone to have a good time at my expense.
Seems silly and simple, doesn’t it? Maybe next time I run into Rob on the street, I’ll mention it to him and see if he even remembers.
Life is made up of small moments when we carve out initials or names on the desktop of someone else’s heart. These moments may seem small and insignificant to us, but they leave a deep and lasting impression on someone else’s life—hopefully for the good.
Today may your life give you the opportunity to carve a good moment on the desktop of someone’s heart. MSN