Proof The Bible Is True

“Who do you want to sign it, Georgie?” one of my friends asked that Friday as we stood in a circle in the schoolyard, holding our little autograph books for our friends and teachers to write in before eighth grade graduation. It was exciting figuring out who to approach next.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” I said, flipping through the pages of my book. “Just so long as I get all my friends and favorite teachers.” The group nodded in agreement, but I wasn’t being totally honest. There was one of those who mattered most: Mrs. Lucky.

She was my teacher in third grade, back when I attended Dante Public School. I’d had a lot of trouble with bullies back then. I was small and delicate, and a group of “popular girls” took every opportunity they could to harass me. They even threatened to beat me up!

But no matter what they said or did to bring me down, Mrs. Lucky could always make me feel better. She was an older woman, short with gray hair and wire-rim glasses, but she was hardly frail like me. She had a reputation for being strict. Nothing got past her.

And she thought I was special. She praised me in class, gave me gold stars, and generally let me know she saw how hard I worked to please her. With Mrs. Lucky on my side, I could face just about anything.

My eighth grade friends passed around our books, scribbling jokes and messages we could laugh over for years to come. I remembered how, back in third grade, older girls used to come into our class at the end of the year to get Mrs. Lucky to sign their autograph books. She always took her time writing out a unique message. “Do not read it until you’ve left the classroom,” she’d say sternly before giving the book back.

Too bad I can’t drop in on her, I thought.

Read More  She Got the Message | Guideposts.