You

Rush through the hallway

Head down

Books clutched in my hands

Pressed against my chest.

Don’t make eye contact!

Don’t let them see your face.

Good.

Now keep going.

Not too fast!

But not too slow either.

Stay steady,

Keeping the same pace as everyone else.

You’re so close.

Make sure no one notices you opening the heavy wooden door

They won’t.

No one would notice you even if you weren’t trying to hide.

Keep your shields up.

The walls that enclose your personal space

They keep you invisible.

Slip in silently.

Don’t let your shoes squeak.

Close the door behind you,

Slowly,

Oh no

You forgot about the squeaky hinges.

Thankfully,

No one turns

Slowly,

Close the door completely.

Perfect.

Now let out the breath you’ve been holding.

Dip two fingers in the water and bring the drops to your forehead.

The same movement you’ve done a thousand times before.

Slip into an empty row of benches.

You have your pick of all of them.

They’re almost always empty.

Look up at the statue in the front and sigh.

You’ve made it.

Congratulations.

Now let yourself be.

Smile.

Laugh.

Pray.

Be accepted.

Out there you are just another face

An insignificant piece of a puzzle.

You are nothing but a number.

But here,

Here you mean something.

Here you are something.

Sitting on this bench,

Looking up at the statue,

The one you’ve seen a thousand times before.

It’s in every classroom of your school,

A picture of the man in the statue resides in every room of your house.

You’ve seen his face a million times before.

And yet here he is,

Staring at you.

His eyes are kind

And he sees you.

He sees your faults,

Your poor decisions,

Your wasted time,

Your pathetic efforts,

Your lies,

Your secrets,

Your black heart.

He sees you,

But he is not judging you.

His eyes do not look on with disapproval,

He doesn’t grimace,

Doesn’t glare,

Even with the blood,

Trickling from the gash in his side,

Gathering around the nail that pierces both his feet,

Blinding him from the cuts on his head.

The crown of thorns,

An object of scorn,

A twisted attempt at irony,

A poor man’s separation from love,

The crown is ironic two times over,

As you look upon the brown thorns it becomes a halo made of gold.

The rag the statue wears becomes a robe made of silk.

And suddenly the blood is gone,

Replaced instead with shining diamonds,

The man on the cross looks down at you with eyes of warmth and comfort

And suddenly you are safe.

Suddenly you don’t feel invisible,

Keeping your eyes down doesn’t seem necessary,

You want to show the world.

Break down the walls that shield you,

Stand up straight in the crowd,

Walk with a confident smile

And know.

Know that you are accepted,

Know that you have something to fight for

Something to live for.

Know that you are a human being

And know that you are special.

Know that God Himself DIED to save you.

Know that no matter where you are

Or who you are,

Or what you’ve done,

Or what you’ve become,

You are not alone.

In His eyes you are wonderful.

In His eyes you mean everything.

In His eyes you are NOT invisible.

In His eyes you are FLAWLESS.

 

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