25. April 2013 · Comments Off on In a Blink of God’s Eye · Categories: D. 5 to 8 years · Tags:

Eye of God


The Heaven Mothers know the power of visual aids.  Suddenly we couldn’t miss this huge painting of one eye staring down at us outside the assembly hall.  This is the Eye of God, the Mother says.   He is watching you all the time and he sees everything even when you think he is not looking!

We are not allowed to run anywhere indoors.  But there is plenty of space outside for us to race around and goof off during recess.  There is a row of tall doors on each side of the assembly hall, which has a stage at one end and now the Eye of God behind the large door at the other end.  There are two marble steps down going into the hall, and two steps up coming out the other side.

Even though the doors are open, we know that the assembly hall is indoors and forbidden ground.  But then, as we are racing around like wildebeest it is so much fun to run down the steps into the hall across forbidden ground and up the other steps to safety, that nothing could stop us.

Until the pile-up.  Someone cuts me off as I’m sprinting up the steps. I miss and my chin lands on the marble edge. The step wins.  My chin splits open, and blood splatters all over the front of my white summer uniform.

There is a circle of concerned Mothers hovering over me as they take me to the hospital.   They bring my sister to the pity party.  I don’t want to make her look any better and I don’t cry. 

The truth is I am too stunned to feel pain.   But at the hospital, when they disinfect and stitch me up, I yell bloody murder.  The doctor doesn’t care.

On Prize-Giving Day, I have to go up the stage to get an award nobody ever heard of.  It is “Most Improved.”  It is something the Mothers made up.  It is measured praise.   God punished me for my transgression, but I took it bravely (okay, on the chin), and now I am their poster child.   The award does not say how bad I was or how improved I am either.  It’s not like my sister’s award, which goes strictly by the numbers.  You get a 99 average in all your tests, and the next girl gets 98, you’re the First of the Class. 

Fortunately, no one pays any attention to my award, not my friends, and not the goody two-shoes girls who still wouldn’t dream of asking me to join their club, thank my nanny’s many gods!