Thankful. Hopeful.

One afternoon close to Christmas I was standing on the home plate of a baseball diamond at my elementary school. I was alone. The kids in my grade, some of whom had been my friend a week earlier, weren't talking to me. Instead, they were standing in a circle a few hundred feet from me, talking amongst themselves, looking over at me, occasionally laughing.

One girl broke from the group and started running over to me. She held something in her hand. She was smiling. I turned to face her. She had been my best friend. I thought she was reaching out. Once she got to me, she handed me something in a white envelope. She told me it was a Christmas card from all the kids. Smiling, I opened it. Inside it said, "Merry Christmas!" then "From all the kids that hate you,." It was signed by a dozen kids or so. The girl who delivered the card turned and ran back to the group, laughing.

Years earlier I had another difficult experience. It was my first day at a new school. I had to take the school bus. I was scared and feeling alone. Kids stayed away from me as we stood waiting for the bus to come. I kicked at the dirt to pass the time, too shy and afraid to look up and say hello.

After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only five minutes, the bus came. The kids got on. I waited to get on last. I stepped on and up the stairs. I looked up to scan for a seat. As I began slowly walking down the aisle of the bus, all of the kids who were alone in their seats (each bench sat two children) moved to the spot closest to the aisle so that I couldn't sit beside them without having to climb over their laps. Inside, I started to panic.

Then one girl looked up at me from her window spot. Instead of quickly moving over to the aisle as the others had done, she said to me, "You can sit with me. You can have the window seat. It's the best spot." Her freckled cheeks, warm brown eyes, and beautiful smile are still etched in my memory. I was seven at the time. We became good friends until she moved away. We still keep in touch. She is one of three people who sent me a card of condolence when my dad passed away. She wrote a beautiful letter remembering my dad.

What I learned from these hard early experiences is that people in groups can be cruel, but I can choose not to be. In honour of Thanksgiving, after spending a lovely day with my boys, I'm thankful to the little girl who gave me her seat that day. I've thought of her often as I've tried my best to follow her example these past forty years.