If only there was someone like that for each of us when we first try to be ourselves, the world would be filled with much happier people.
When Rocky was in third grade he returned from his day at school with an extremely sad face.
I greeted him with a smile and asked how his day was.
Rocky removed a small, handmade Indian satchel from his backpack and handed it to me.
“You made this?” I asked
Rocky slowly shook his head yes.
As I held the small satchel in my hand, I observed each of the meticulously placed feathers and stones that Rocky had glued to it. It was obvious that he had decided with great care where each of them would be placed. It was simplistically and tastefully done. I was impressed with the beauty of what my son had made and all of the effort that he had put into it.
“Mommy, it’s an Indian satchel.” Rocky began, “We’re learning all about American Indians in school and this is what they used to carry…
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