That year his world turned upside down.

He was my student with a contagious smile. Every morning the third grade boy greeted me with a smile. But, oh my, was he inattentive and hyper. His eyes twinkled with mischief. I looked for ways to help him focus. It was a daily challenge.

He and I came up with a system for containing his constant, noisy, disruptive behavior. I placed a student desk next to my teacher desk. I said he could move over to that desk whenever he needed to calm himself.

It worked like a charm. This was a help to his peers since he tended to distract the whole class. Part way into the year, though, the light left his eyes and His demeanor changed. His mother told me why. His father had left them.

She opened up about it, how she was struggling with nerves and depression, how hard it was on her and the children. No doubt her depression and angst was making it harder for her son. He was not nearly as cheerful as before. That is, until he got Blackie, his puppy.

And puppy makes it better.

My, how he loved his puppy. Day after day he told the class about his puppy’s antics. One day, though, something was terribly wrong. He was sobbing before school outside the classroom, while I was unlocking the door.

I asked the class to wait outside a moment. The class stood quietly while the boy and I stepped inside. He said his puppy was missing. They’d searched but hadn’t been able to find him. I brought the class inside and explained how Blackie was now lost.

My student described Puppy so we could be on the lookout. An already sad boy was now even sadder than sad. I had heard of studies that show how third grade boys are especially impacted by any significant relational loss. Losing the puppy was bad timing for a wounded little boy.

My thoughts were heavy that night. I knew my student needed his beloved Puppy. After dinner I prayed that Blackie would be found for a little boy who needed the love of his puppy and who needed to care for his pet.

An answer to prayer.

The next day I was unlocking the classroom door when I heard, “Good Morning, Mrs. Wieland.” He had a twinkle in his eye, and he was grinning ear to ear. “We found Blackie!” He and I high-fived.

“Thank you, Jesus,” I said in my mind as my class tumbled into the room.

I saw this same boy a few years later. He was a tall, lanky 6′ 2″ high school student. He grinned and said, “Hi, Mrs. Wieland, how are you doing?” His smile was as big as ever. I was happy to see him.

This much I know. God cares about little boys.

. . .

Photo by Giuseppe Renzi