The Wemmicks were a small wooden people, carved by a carpenter named Eli. His workshop was at the top of a hill overlooking the village.
Each Wemmick was different: some had a big nose, others had big eyes, someone was tall and someone was low. Someone wore the hat, someone else wore the coat, but they were all made by the same sculptor and everyone lived in the village.
Throughout the day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing — stickers attached to each other. Each Wemmick had a box of golden stars and a box of gray dots.
Up and down the streets of the city, the Wemmicks spent time attacking the stars or balls with each other.
Those beautiful, smooth and well-painted wood, always received stars, but, if someone's wood was rough or the color was detached, the Wemmicks gave him gray balls.
Talented people also received stars. Someone could lift heavy pieces of wood over the head or skip large boxes. Others still knew long words or knew how to sing beautiful songs. To these, everyone gave stars.
There was literally some covered in stars! These Wemmicks, every time they took a star, they were happy. So they wanted to do something else and take another star.
Others, however, knew to do little. And they took balls.
Chicken was one of them.
He tried to jump up like the others, but he always fell and, when he died, the others surrounded him and gave him balls. Sometimes, when he landed, the wood was scratched and so people gave him more balls.
Then, when he tried to explain why he fell, he said something silly, and the Wemmicks still attacked him.
After a while he had so many balls to no longer want to go out. He was afraid to do something silly, like forgetting his hat or putting a foot in the water, because then people would give him other balls. In fact, he had so many gray balls that sometimes someone glued one without a particular reason.
«He deserves a lot of balls.», the wood people said.
«She's not a good wood person.»
After a while Pulcinello began to believe it.
«I'm not a good Wemmick.»He said.
The few times she went out she was with Wemmicks who had a lot of bullets. He felt comfortable with them.
One day Pulcinello met a Wemmick different from the others: she had no stars or balls, she was simply wooden. Her name was Lucia. Not that people didn't try to stick stick stickers, but on her the stickers didn't stick. Some Wemmick appreciated the fact that Lucia had no balls, so she ran to give her a star, but this fell down!
Others disapproved of it because it had no stars, so they gave it a ball, but it also detached!
That's how I want to be, Pulcinello thought: I don't want anyone's votes. So he went to ask Wemmick without stickers how to do something like that.
«It's simple.»Lucia answered. «I'm going to visit Eli every day.»
«Eli?»
«Yes, Eli. The sculptor. I sit in the shop with him!»
«Why?»
«Why don't you find out yourself? Go to the hill. He's there.», said the Wemmick without stickers, then turned and went away.
«But will he see me?» he shouted Pulcinello, but Lucia did not hear it. So Pulcinello went home, sat down at the window, and looked at the people of wood who were busy staring at each other.
«It's not fair.», drooped in. And he decided to go see Eli.
Pulcinello walked along the narrow path leading to the top of the hill and entered the large workshop. He developed the eyes of wood for the size of the things he saw. The stool was as high as he was! To see the work plan he had to stand on the tip of his feet. A hammer was as long as his arm.
Pulcinello hardly swallowed.
«I'm not staying here!», he said, and turned to leave.
Then he heard his name.
«Pulcinello?» The voice was deep and strong. Pulcinello stopped.
«Pulcinello! Good to see you. Come and have a look.»
Pulcinello turned slowly and looked at the big bearded craftsman.
«You know my name?» asked little Wemmick.
«Of course I know him. I made you.»
Eli stooped, took him, and laid him on the bench.
«Hmm.», thoughtful, seeing the gray balls. «Looks like you got some bad votes.»
«I didn't want to, Eli. I did my best.»
«Oh, you don't have to excuse me, my son. I don’t care what the other Wemmicks think.»
«Oh, no?»
«And you shouldn't care either. Who are they to give stars or pals? It's just Wemmicks, like you. What they think doesn't matter, Pulcinello. It only matters what I think. And I think you're really special.»
Chicken laughed.
«Special, me? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. I've got painting. Why would you care about me?»
Eli looked at Pulcinello, laid his hands on his small wooden shoulders and spoke slowly.
«Because you're mine. That’s why I care about you.»
No one had ever looked at Chicken like that and he didn't know what to say.
«Every day I hoped you'd come», he explained Eli.
«I came because I knew someone without stickers», said Pulcinello.
«I know. He told me about you.»
«Why aren't stickers on her?»
Eli spoke quietly.
«Because he decided that what I think is more important than what others think. Adhesives only stay attached if you let that happen.»
«What?»
«The stickers stick only if they want to say something to you. The more you'll be sure of my love, the less you care about their stickers.»
«I'm not sure I understand.»
Eli smiled.
«You'll understand, but it'll take some time. You have a lot of stickers attached. For now, visit me every day and remember how important you are for me.»
Then Eli lifted Pulcinello off the counter and laid him down.
«Remember», Eli said, while the Wemmick came out of the door, «You're special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes.»
Pulcinello did not stop, but inside he thought:
I think he's serious.
And at that moment the first ball fell on the ground.
(You are special to Max Lucado)
