Those Eyes

As a school bus driver for our local district, I am often called upon to offer correction to an occasional student who seems to enjoy pushing my buttons. One such student is a young lady in the 8th grade named Emma. She and her sister have been a constant source of stress for me since school began this year, and my patience has been running a little thin in this regard. A week or so ago I wrote a referral on her which necessitated she visit the principal's office. Needless to say she wasn't very happy with me.

One day this week Emma boarded the bus extremely agitated yelling quite loudly to her sister who sits half a bus length from her toward the rear of the bus. Her back was to me and she appeared to be super upset about something. By the looks on the other students' faces I could tell her language was less than appropriate. A 6th grade girl mouthed toward me "she's cussing!" When I called Emma by name she immediately went into defensive mode stating "I'm not cussing bus driver. If I was cussing, you would have heard me, right?" Due to the fact the bus was running and she was turned away from me, I did not personally hear her "cussing," and I told her so. However, I decided the next day I would talk with her before she boarded the bus in regard to the use of inappropriate language.

When Emma arrived at the bus the next afternoon, I stopped her in the parking lot saying I needed to talk with her briefly.
Wow! Was this wild child short -- something that can only be noticed when the bus driver is out of her seat. Only 14, dressed as skimpily as dress code allows and face adorned with thick makeup, she had an attitude that was less than cooperative. As she looked up at me I could tell she was not happy to be detained. I talked with her briefly about using inappropriate language which she quickly denied, and then it happened . . .

I saw her eyes. They were gorgeously piercing and profound. A thought came quickly to mind -- "This must be what Jesus sees. A young lady trying desperately to be noticed, to be cared about, to be loved." I was taken aback momentarily. I had seen those eyes before . . . where was it? And then I remembered . . . it was a painting I'd seen of Jesus with the same piercing eyes. Here they were before me on this girl's face.

The other bus engines started up, and looking directly into her eyes I said: "May I tell you . . . you have the most beautiful eyes?" She replied, "yes" and hurriedly entered the bus. I doubt I will ever look at her the same again.