From 17
The Shepherd Boy and the Giant
Two armies stand facing each other and nothing happens. Every day steps forward and shouts: send one of your own, and we'll settle this together. He's enormous and nobody dares.
For forty days.
Then comes to bring food for his brothers. He hears it and says: I'll do it.
King Saul hangs on him. A helmet, a sword, the whole set. David takes three steps and says: I can't walk in this, I've never worn it before.
He takes it off. He grabs his stick and picks five smooth stones from the stream.
Goliath sees him coming and starts laughing.
And then it happens very fast.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
You're playing with the older kids. They shove and pull and they're two heads taller. If you try that too, you're on the ground within a minute.
But you're faster. And smaller. And you see gaps they don't see.
It's not just about sport. Someone in your class is great at talking and you're not. Try to copy him, and you can hear yourself that it sounds fake. Just say what you'd actually say, and you can hear that it's right.
Be scared? Never heard of it. I'm cutting that irritating bully down to size myself!
Take a look in the mirror:
- Whose have you tried wearing?
- What can you do that doesn't look like what everyone else can do?
- When did you feel small next to something big? What did you do then?
Mirror line
I'd love to act just as tough as he does, but I've learned you don't beat someone by putting on his armour — only by staying yourself.
From 3
The Clever King
has only just become king and he's still young. Two women come to him, both claiming the same baby is theirs.
There are no . There's no proof. It's one woman's word against the other's.
Solomon thinks. And then he says something terrible: bring a sword. We'll cut the child in half, so each of you gets a piece.
One of the two says: fine. Go ahead. Then neither of us has him.
The other screams: no! Give him to her, then. As long as he lives.
And then Solomon knows enough. Give the child to the second woman, he says. She is the mother.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
The two of you are pulling on the same thing. You're both shouting that it's yours.
And at some point it's not about the thing anymore. It's about not wanting to give in.
You hear it start to crack. And you pull again.
If one of you lets go, the other usually thinks: I won. But the one who let go was the one who still remembered what it was actually about.
Back down? Not a chance. I'll keep pushing until it breaks — purely to win!
Take a look in the mirror:
- When did you fight so hard to be right that you forgot what it was about?
- What wouldn't you want to see broken, even if it meant losing?
- When did someone let go for your sake? Did you notice?
Mirror line
I'd love to keep nagging until I got my way, but I've learned that whoever lets go first often still remembers best what it was actually about.
From 38
When the Storm Suddenly Hits
Job loses everything in a very short time. His animals, his house, the people he loved. Then he gets sick too. He sits in the dust and doesn't understand any of it.
Three friends come to see him. For seven days they say nothing. They just sit next to him.
Then they start talking, and all three say the same thing: you must have done something wrong.
Job keeps asking. Why? Why me? No answer comes.
Until a storm rises. Out of that storm, speaks, and Job thinks: now I'll finally hear it. But God gives no answer. He asks questions.
*Where were you when the earth was made? Do you know where the snow is kept? Can you tame a wild donkey?*
Almost a hundred questions. And not one answer.
And when the storm settles, Job is calm.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
Something really awful happens to a kid in your class. And on the playground someone says, “Well, his dad always drives way too fast too.”
We say things like that because we're scared. If there's a reason, it can't happen to us. But there isn't always a reason.
And then that other moment. You're standing next to someone who's sad and you don't know what to say. Every sentence you think of sounds stupid. So you say nothing and walk on.
While that person maybe didn't need a sentence at all. Just someone who stayed.
Sit with him? No time for that. I'll just think: at least it's not me, and carry on with my day!
Take a look in the mirror:
- When did you not know what to say to someone who was sad?
- When did you secretly think: he brought that on himself a bit?
- Do you want someone who explains things, or someone who just stays sitting next to you?
Mirror line
I'd love to think: at least it's not me, but I've learned that looking for a reason usually comforts yourself, not the other person.
