day 61

The Wemmicks were small wooden people. All of the wooden people were carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village. Each Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village. All day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people spent their days sticking stars or dots on one another . . . Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star it made them feel so good! It made them want to do something else to get another star. Others, though, could do little. They got dots. Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like
the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others
would gather around and give him dots. . . In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one for no reason at all. . . One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. . . That's the way l want to be, thought Punchinello. I don't want anyone's marks. So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it. "It's easy," Lucia replied. "Everyday l go see Eli." "Eli?" "Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him." "Why?" "Why don't you find out for yourself?" . . . And he decided to go see Eli. He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on
his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed
hard. "I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave. Then he heard his name. "Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong. Punchinello stopped. "Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you." Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman. "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked. "Of course l do. I made you." Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench. "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he looked at the gray dots. "Looks like you've been given some bad marks." "I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard." "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think." "You don't?" "No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what l think. And l think you are pretty
special." Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? l can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do l matter to you?" Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me . . . Every day l've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained. "I came because l met someone who has no marks," said Punchinello. "I know. She told me about you." "Why don't the stickers stay on her?" The maker spoke softly. "Because she has decided that what l think is more important that what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them." "What?" "The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about their stickers.". . . Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground. "Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door, "you are special because l made you. And l don't make mistakes." -taken from different pages throughout Max Lucado's book You Are Special
Prayer requests?