This morning, I remebered my sewing teacher in my college year.  I was not a good student because I had problems with myself.  One day, she gave me a big portion of her lunch.  “It’s too much for me,” she explained.

She was thin, spoke in a high-pitched voice, her hair curled up.  She always looked respectable and neat.  She sometimes took her husband who moved in a wheelchair to the classroom after class.  She was a good, funny, very self-disciplined teacher, but I was a dreamy and irresponsible student who might have disappointed her.

I knew she was nice to me to offer me her lunch.  I thanked her (even though I didn’t really want the steak).  The thing is, now I understand her kindness, and how she cared for me in a subtle way.  It gives me a warm feeling, and the understanding makes me feel grateful.  But now I also understand how I just couldn’t care for anyone else but myself at that time.

Perhaps this is what growing up is all about.  I wish I could’ve been a better student not just for the people who cared for me, but also for my own sake.  But the fact is, I couldn’t do what I couldn’t do.  However, it doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to do what I couldn’t do “someday”.  Frustration, anger, and self-doubt come along the way.  But the point is not giving up on yourself.  Because if you kept your patience, the day will come, the day you’ll see how you’ve grown.

(Image from Google)