The Wemmicks - Max Lucado

You Are Special

The Wemmicks were small wooden people. Each of the wooden

people was carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat

on a hill overlooking their village.

Every 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. And 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 could be seen

sticking stars or dots on one another. The pretty ones, those

with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the

wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots.

The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high

above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big

words or could sing very pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.

Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got

a star it made them feel so good that they did something else

and got 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. Sometimes when he fell, it would

scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots. He

would try to explain why he fell and say something silly, and

the Wemmicks would give him more dots.

After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go

outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb such as

forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give

him another dot. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some

people would come up and give him one without reason.

"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree

with one another. "He's not a good wooden person." After

a while Punchinello believed them.

"I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say. The few times

he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a

lot of dots. He felt better around them.

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 Lulia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick.

Some admired Lulia for having no dots, so they would run

up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Some would look

down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot.

But it wouldn't stay either.

'That's the way I 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," Lulia replied. "every day I go see Eli."

"Eli?"

"Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him."

"Why?"

"Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's

there."

And with that the Wemmick with no marks turned and skipped away.

"But he won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out.

Lulia didn't hear. So Punchinello went home. He sat near a

window and watched the wooden  people as they scurried

around giving each other stars and dots. "It's not right," he

muttered to himself. And he resolved 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

I do. I made you."

Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench.

"Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he inspected the gray

circles.  "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 I think. And I think you are pretty special."

Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I

can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I 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."

Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this--much

less his maker. He didn't know what to say.

"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.

"I came because I met someone who had no marks."

"I know. She told me about you."

"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"

"Because she has decided that what I think is more

important than 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 the

stickers."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of

marks. For now, just come to see me every day and

let me remind you how much I care."

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 I made you. And I don't

make mistakes."

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, "I think he

really means it."

And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.

By Max Lucado