A Pair of Glasses
On a bright and sunny afternoon in the small town of Littletown, young Ben was rummaging through his grandmother’s attic. Grandma Lara’s attic was a treasure trove of oddities.
From old clocks and paintings to dusty books and toys that belonged to generations long past, it was a world waiting to be explored.
“Why does Grandma have so many things?” Ben wondered aloud.
As he was sifting through an old chest, he came across a pair of glasses. These weren’t like any regular glasses; they had a peculiar frame with intricately carved patterns and lenses that shimmered with a strange, golden glow.
“Wow, these look cool!” Ben said, slipping them on.
To his astonishment, when he looked around, he noticed something extraordinary. People had halos hovering above their heads. The halos were made of tiny golden stars, which seemed to glow and twinkle. The number of stars differed from person to person.
Curious, Ben dashed outside, forgetting about the attic, and started observing people.
He saw Mrs. Patterson, the grumpy librarian, passing by with her dog. She had so many stars that her halo was dazzling! He remembered how she’d scolded him last week for returning a book late. But with so many stars, had she done many good deeds?
“Hi, Mrs. Patterson!” Ben greeted, still puzzled.
“Why, hello Ben,” she replied, her usual stern face breaking into a smile. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
Ben nodded, still lost in thought.
Next, he spotted Mr. Oliver, the school janitor. Kids often made fun of him because he was quiet and kept to himself. But through the glasses, Ben saw a halo filled with countless stars above Mr. Oliver’s head.
Intrigued, Ben approached him, “Hey, Mr. Oliver! You won’t believe what I found today.”
Mr. Oliver looked down, a gentle smile on his face. “What did you find, young man?”
Ben hesitated. “Oh, it’s just a pair of glasses,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling shy about his discovery.
On his way home, he saw many more people – some he liked, some he didn’t. But the glasses showed him a side to them he never knew. The seemingly mean old man who lived at the end of the street had a halo filled with stars. The ice cream vendor, the bus driver, and even the quiet girl from his school had stars that told tales of their good deeds.
Back home, he found his younger sister, Emily, playing in the garden.
“Guess what I found, Em!” Ben exclaimed.
“What? Another frog?” Emily asked, rolling her eyes.
“Nope! Even better,” said Ben, putting on the glasses and looking at Emily.
To his surprise, Emily had a dense cluster of stars too. “What have you been up to, little mischief-maker?” Ben wondered aloud.
“What are you talking about?” Emily looked at him, puzzled.
Ben smiled mysteriously, “You’ll see.”
That evening, he approached Grandma Lara. “Grandma, I found this pair of glasses in the attic. They’re… different.”
Grandma Lara took a deep breath and looked at him with a knowing smile. “Ah, I was wondering when you’d stumble upon them. Those glasses have been in our family for generations.”
“But what do they do?” Ben asked.
She leaned in closer, whispering, “Those glasses let you see the good in people, the acts of kindness they’ve done. But remember, it’s not just about seeing the good, it’s about understanding people better.”
Ben nodded, taking in the weight of her words. As night fell, he lay in bed pondering the day’s events. The glasses had unveiled a side of Littletown he never knew existed. He realized how quick he was to judge people without really knowing them. The glasses were more than just a tool; they were a lesson.
However, Ben had yet to unveil the biggest mystery of all. And that mystery was closer than he could ever imagine.
The next day, Ben took the glasses to school. He felt it would be an exciting day, seeing his classmates and teachers in a new light. As he walked through the corridors, he noticed halos on nearly everyone. Some shone brighter than the sun, while others had just a few twinkling stars.
During recess, Ben sat with his best friend, Ryan. “Check these out!” he whispered, handing over the glasses.
Ryan looked through them and gasped. “Whoa! What are these?”
“They show you the good deeds people have done,” Ben explained.
Ryan tried the glasses on several students, looking more and more amazed with each glance. But when he looked at Ben, his face turned into a frown. “Why don’t you have any stars, Ben?”
Ben was taken aback. “What do you mean? I should have at least some!”
Ryan handed the glasses back, and Ben looked at his reflection in a nearby window. It was true. His halo was barely visible with just a couple of faint stars. Confused and hurt, he wondered, “Why? I’ve done good deeds too!”
The day went on, but the mystery of his almost empty halo weighed heavily on Ben’s mind. Even as he helped a fellow student pick up dropped books or held the door open for his teacher, he checked his halo, but there were no new stars.
After school, he decided to visit Grandma Lara. She always had answers.
Upon seeing her, Ben burst out, “Grandma, why don’t I have as many stars as others? I’ve done good things too!”
Grandma Lara smiled gently, “Ah, the glasses can’t show you your own good deeds, Ben.”
“But why not?”
“Because, dear boy, good deeds are not meant to be counted or compared. Doing good should come from the heart, not for rewards or recognition. The glasses show you the good in others to help you understand and appreciate them, not to measure your own worth.”
Ben thought deeply, then said, “So, the glasses were teaching me to see beyond my judgments and value everyone for their unseen deeds.”
“Exactly,” Grandma Lara replied. “Everyone has their own journey, and everyone contributes to the world in their unique way. The real magic is not in what the glasses show you, but in what you choose to do with that understanding.”
Feeling enlightened, Ben hugged his grandmother. “Thanks, Grandma. I think I’ve learned their lesson.”
The next day, Ben gave the glasses to Ryan. “Keep them for a day, and then pass them on. Let’s spread the understanding.”
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the glasses became the talk of Littletown. People became kinder, more patient, and more understanding. They realized that everyone had their own story, their own struggles, and their own acts of goodness.
And Ben?
He no longer needed the glasses to see the good in people. He had learned to look beyond the surface, to appreciate and love unconditionally.
After all, the most significant deeds are often the ones unseen.
