Using Words Wisely

Joseph's Coat
~author unknown

It was nipping cold for November. Winter had arrived before schedule. "My, this coat feels good!" Joseph gave a little flying leap to express how good it felt. His thin legs seemed to lose themselves upward, his happy face, mounted on a thin little neck, to lose itself downward in the huge new coat.

Mother was happy today, too, as she watched him down the road. "Nobody will look at his back," she thought. "They'll just look at his face, and say, "My that boy's warm, I know!"

But somebody looked at his back. At the junction of the roads, a little way on, the minister's boy and particular friends swung in behind Joseph. They were all warm, too. The minister's boy's coat was new, too, but a different new from Joseph's. It had a fur collar that turned up about his ears, and it was exactly broad enough and long enough.

All at once somebody shouted. It was the minister's boy. "Oh, look! Joseph's coat - Joseph's coat o' many colors! Look there! Look there!"

Suddenly Joseph was no longer warm; a nipping cold struck through to his neck.

"Joseph's coat! Joseph's coat!"

He knew there was something the matter with it, and it must be with the behind of it, for that was all those boys could see. All the leap had come out of Joseph's thin little legs, all the joy out of his heart. He went on because you couldn't get to school without going on. But that was all - just went on. At the schoolhouse he waited around, instinctively facing front to folks, until they had all gone in. Then he took off his "new" coat and looked at the behind. Then he knew.

There was a long straight seam in the middle, and on each side of it the thick cloth had faded to a different shade, a distinctly different shade. Two colors really, one on each side of that long straight seam - a cruel little trick of the sun. Joseph was only eight, but he saw at once why they had called it Joseph's coat of many colors.

The next day Joseph waited behind a wall at the junction of roads until the minister's boy and his friends had come and gone. Then he slipped out and followed them. That helped a little - he tried to think it helped a little. But there were recesses and meetings - of course he might stay inside; you don't have to wear an overcoat when you stay in.

Joseph stayed in. Through the window he could see the minister's boy having a splendid time. The third day he saw something else. He saw the minister's boy in his coat - the multi-colored coat Aunt Caroline had sent - strutting about the yard amid the others' shouts of delight. Some of the others tried it on and strutted. Joseph just sat in his seat and looked at them as tears rolled down his cheeks.

The next day he turned Aunt Caroline's coat inside out and wore it so. He waited till he got nearly to the fork in the road before turning it inside out; he wasn't going to make Mother feel bad, too. She had lined the coat anew with shiny black cotton stuff all of one color. Joseph felt a little better; this would help.

But it only made things worse; The minister's boy and his particular friends instantly saw the ridiculousness of that inside-out little coat. "Look at it! Look at it - inside out!" The joke was just too good!

There was just one other thing to do, and Joseph did it the next day. The place where the roads forked was about halfway from Joseph's home to the schoolhouse; so he went warm halfway the next day. The other half he shivered along, very cold indeed, outside of the Aunt Caroline coat. For he had left Aunt Caroline's coat folded up behind a stone wall. Going home that afternoon, he was warm the last half of his way, anyway. It helped to be half warm.

For a day or two the sun and the wind conspired together to befriend little Joseph. But the fourth day the wind blew and the sun rested. There was snow, too, in fine steely flakes, and Joseph's teeth chattered, and he ran on stiff little legs, and blew on stiff little fingers. He kept looking ahead to the last half of going home. He wished he had pushed the Aunt Caroline coat farther in under the stones out of the way of the snow.

"Joseph Merriam," called the teacher on the day after the snowstorm. She had her roll book and pencil waiting, but she got no answer. It was strange for Joseph Merriam not to answer the roll call; he was one of her little steadies. "Joseph is not here, I see; can anyone tell me if he is sick? He must be sick." "Yes'm, he is. He's got pneumonia dreadfully," someone answered. "There were lights in his house all night, my father said."

For many nights there were lights, and for many mornings the doctor's sleigh. Joseph laid in his bed, saying wild, mixed up words in a weak little voice. "I'm almost to the stone wall; then I'll be warm!"

"Joseph's coat o' many colors - Joseph's coat o' many colors!"

"I don't want Mother to know they laughed; don't anybody tell Mother."

The minister's boy heard of those wild little words, and pieced them together into a story. He remembered who had cried, "Joseph's coat o ' many colors!" tauntingly, cruelly. And now - oh, now he remembered that Joseph had not worn any overcoat at all those last days that he went to school!. No coat. The heart of the minister's boy contracted with an awful fear. He took to haunting Joseph's house in all his free minutes - waiting at the gate for the doctor to come out, and shivering with something besides cold at his brief answers. The answers grew worse and worse.

Going to bed was so difficult for the minister's boy. He lay in his own bed, remembering that other little bed of Joseph's. When remembering was too great a torture, the minister's boy crept out of bed and dressed himself. Out into the clear, cold starlight, down the frozen road, he crept toward Joseph's lighted windows. He was not aware of being cold anywhere but in his soul - he shivered there.

A long time he stood waiting for he knew not what. Then someone came out of the house.It was not the doctor; it was the minister. The boy could not see his face, but you don't have to see your own father's face.They went back down the dim night road together, and together into the ministers study.

"I've killed him,"the boy said. I've killed Joseph. I did it."

The minister's face was curiously lighted in spite of this awful confession of his son. The light persisted.

"Sit down, Philip," he said, for the boy was shaking like a leaf, "Now tell me." All the story piece by piece - the boy told all.

"So it was I - I killed him. I - I didn't expect to -"

Silence for a little while. Then:

"Did you think Joseph was dead, Philip? He came very close indeed to it; but the crisis is past, and he will get well. I waited to know."

"You mean- I - haven't?"

"I mean you haven't, thank God." Philip was overjoyed and full of thanks with the news of Joseph's improved condition.

When, after a long while, the boy was slipping away, the minister called to him gently.

"Come back a moment, Philip."

"Yes, I'm back, Father. I know what you're thinking of. Father, may I - punish myself this time - for making fun of a boy - a little boy? It needs a good deal o' punishin', but I'll do it - please let me do it, Father! Please - please try me, anyway."

And because the minister was a wise minister, he nodded his head.

When little Joseph got well, he wore to school a beautiful warm coat with a soft furry collar that went up - up - around his ears. It was very thick and warm and handsome, and all of a color. Joseph wore it all the way.

The rest of the winter the minister's boy wore to school an Aunt Caroline coat of many colors.

William Shakespeare, one of the greatest writers who ever lived, once wrote, "These words are razors to my wounded heart." This story shows how much words can hurt.

~Everyday Graces by Karen Santorum