A Girl, A Horse, And An Every Day Hero

There is something so wonderful about the relationship between animals and people. This is such a beautiful story of a Cincinnati area girl and a horse, but it is also a story about the special humanitarians who are all around us. Our every day heroes. A big thank you to Dan Horn and the Cincinnati Enquirer for sharing it with us.

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One Person CAN Make A Difference

Was it fate? Why yesterday did my mom happen to email me this story? It’s been months since my doorbell stopped ringing. The little girls in my neighborhood who used to spend hours here helping with the birds, drawing and mostly having a familiar place where they could feel valued have moved away. The heart drawing still decorating my refrigerator reminds me every day of the unconditional bond we shared and I think about them often, hoping they have reasons to smile every day. Hoping the life lessons I tried to teach will somehow have an impact as they mature.

I’ve been yearning to do more volunteer work, to find another outlet where I could be a positive influence in the lives of young people. Yesterday was my day. After reading this note, I just happened to be with a little girl, a girl trying her best to cope with a world that has been hard for her. She shared her pains and I reminded her of her gifts. She told me what she couldn’t do and I told her what she could do and do well. When I had to leave, she hugged me and thanked me for taking her picture. I have a feeling I’ll always remember her.

Today I called the coordinator of an afterschool program with whom I had applied to volunteer, but life had gotten in my way. On Friday I’ll be taking a few hours out of my day to spend there. I can’t wait. What an important lesson in this world, that one person really can make a difference.

Email:

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big ‘F’ at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners… he is a joy to be around.’

His second grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.’

His third grade teacher wrote, ‘His mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.’

Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.’

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, ‘Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.’

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher’s pets.’

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honours. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favourite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favourite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer…. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson’s ear, ’Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.’

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, ‘Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.’

My Valentine Gift

On Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d share a special gift that was given to me by a little girl who lives around the corner.

One day Kristina and a friend happened to be walking behind my fence as I was working in the garden. They were real inquisitive, wanting to know what I was doing, why I liked to garden and what type of plants I had. I was planting pansies at the time. Surely, it wouldn’t make much difference if my yard had two less flowers so I offered them each one. It wasn’t even a decision that required any thought on my part but I always remember the smiles on their faces as they accepted their gift and scurried away, only to return moments later. Kristina and her friend played in my grass that afternoon while I finished what I had to do.

Since that day, their visits became frequent and sometimes Kristina would come by herself. No matter what I was doing, they always wanted to help. But I think they really just wanted to be involved in whatever I was doing. And I’ve never run out of finding things to have them help me with, reinforcing their acts of kindness by letting them know how very much they are appreciated for what they do.

Let’s see, Kristina has helped me pull weeds (well, okay, she really was just able to get the leaves off the big ones), water the plants, and sand my back door before I painted it. Oh, and helped me clean bird cages – and of course, her favorite, feeding the birds. All the while we talk and we share. Sometimes we laugh together and sometimes I just listen. She doesn’t come over very often any more, but when she does, I try to make time.

My doorbell rang again the other day. Kristina wanted to visit the birds, then she wanted to draw. I brought out the paper and crayons. The heart is what she made for me. She asked me as she drew what I do when I visit the nursing home. I told her about how the man who I visit shares her love for art. She wanted to come with me. Her mom later told me she had been talking about it every day until that Sunday. What a wonderful day that was.

I love Kristina’s heart. It’s now displayed on my refrigerator above what she wrote for me on the meaning of friends. Isn’t that what Valentine’s Day is all about?