Once there was a little girl who couldn't talk well.
Stupid, she was called, mute, retarded.
Ugly, she thought when she saw herself in the mirror, no good, can't do anything right.
And the mirror would break, disappear behind her tears.
When will I be able to talk right?
She would ask her mother.
But her mother didn't have any time for her.
When will I be able to talk like everyone else?
She would go to see her teacher.
But he would not understand.
Will anyone ever love me, she would ask herself.
But she did not have any answers.
When she grew up she heard of a great teacher.
A teacher unlike everyone else.
A teacher who could set people right.
She did everything she could, and even what she could not.
To get the money and be able to travel to visit the teacher.
When she arrived the teacher was surrounded by a huge crowd of people.
He will not have time for me, she thought.
How will he ever understand me among all these people?
Oh, how stupid I was.
Of course he won't help a useless person like me.
She turned around and began her journey back.
Next to the road there was a little boy.
He played with some sticks and stones and hummed with a low voice.
Why are you crying, he asked when the girl reached him.
The girl didn't answer, she just shook her head.
How could a small child understand how she felt.
Why did you turn back, didn't you want to meet the teacher?
He wouldn't want to meet me, the girl answered.
She said it in a very low voice because she was certain the child would not understand her.
But he wants to meet everyone who comes to see him, the boy answered very sure of himself.
That is what he has said, that everyone has to be able to see him and talk with him.
The girl didn't know what to answer, she was so surprised.
What did you want to ask him, the child inquired.
I wanted him to make me intelligent, the girl sighed, and beautiful, if that would not be too much to ask.
But you are intelligent, the boy shouted, and you are so beautiful.
You are perfect, just the way you were created.
Perfect, the girl spit the word out of her mouth, don't you mock me!
Yes, you are perfect, the child nodded and looked her in the eye.
I know because my father made you the way you are.
You are him, the girl cried, but in disguise.
Why did you make me like this?
This stupid, clumsy, horrible body and the retarded brain.
Am I a joke to you?
A game you play?
The boy looked at her and grew into a youngster and then a middle aged man.
I told you, he said, you are perfect just how you are.
My father made you perfect, and you are perfect.
How can I be perfect, when it's so obvious I'm full of faults, the girl asked, bitter.
I see you, not your faults, the boy answered, who you are. Your true self, that is perfect. Everything else is just a show, it's not really part of you, or who YOU are.
Don't be fooled by the things outside. The people who really care about you, won't be either.
Those who are loved, are given more gifts.
Those who are trusted, more responsibilities.
Use them and show who you really are, not the gift and responsibility you were given.