Yes, I realize it's Saturday. Sometimes that's when you get your five minutes.
It's who you are. It what you have to bring to the table. It's one of my favorite parts of the job that they pay me to do. Hearing their stories. Getting a glimpse into their lives. For just a little while. Seems less for those of us in my grade because they leave us to go to a new building and some we never hear of again. And then there are those that years later I hear about and marvel at all that they've become.
Their stories are my favorite. And sometimes the hardest to hear. Most of them don't live in affluence. Their mamas and daddies are hard workers. Giving them all they've got. Most of them. And then there are those who aren't given much at all. Aren't treated well at all. And for those I pray that I can help their story. That they'll know if only for a second that someone loves them. Every part of them. That someone is cheering for them. From the sidelines of their life, even it's way back by their fifth grade year. Someone cares and believes in them and their story.
Joining in with Lisa Jo at Five Minute Fridays.