No one liked Margot. She stood taller than any other girl in fifth grade and was stronger and meaner than anyone I'd ever met. She arrived like a whirlwind soon after the school year began. Her fierce red hair and freckles were enough to get her noticed, but it was her meanness that proved most memorable.

Pencils vanished, erasers and crayons snapped in two, and spit wads flew through the air with marksman-like precision. She seemed to enjoy being obnoxious. Even the soft-spoken Miss Walton sounded exasperated as cries of "Margot!" punctuated the once peaceful classroom. Recess became a nightmare, for Margot ruled the playground like a tyrant. Even the boys seemed intimidated.

In those days, needlepoint was still taught in school, and it was my favorite class. Every Wednesday afternoon Miss Vera taught us the intricacies of satin stitch and stem stitch as we embroidered tray cloths and pillow slips. As we stitched, she spoke to us about the roses in her garden and the books she loved to read. "Remember girls," she'd say, "the only thing you can take to Heaven with you is your character." I glanced pointedly at Margot bent over her tray cloth. She won't have much to take, I thought.

One week Margot fell ill and missed needlepoint class. As we sat stitching someone mentioned her name, and soon we all shared our Margot horror stories. After we'd finished, we waited to hear what Miss Vera would say. Threading a needle she said thoughtfully, "Margot has such beautiful handwriting."

With those gentle words, Miss Vera did more than just find something nice to say about Margot. She showed us how to be kind. Instead of a reprimand, she quietly demonstrated how to love, and in the process gave us a glimpse of Christ's loveliness. No one had ever shown me so clearly what it meant to be like Jesus.

We finished out the school year, and I completed my tray cloth. Miss Vera said my lumpy daffodil showed potential. Margot never returned to school, and memories of our troubled classmate eventually faded. As I grew older, however, I discovered a world full of Margots—wounded hearts in a wounded world—searching desperately for evidence of love. How do we reach these women? And the others? Single moms struggling to raise toddlers and teens; lonely women longing to know they matter to someone; tired women everywhere, who need a word of hope and encouragement.

Kind words are a balm for broken hearts. While not as glamorous as the public ministries of preaching or singing, kindness quietly reveals Christ's heart of love to the hurting women around us. As we minister in kindness an incredible power is freed to work within our own hearts, bringing healing and transforming our characters. Then, when we come across someone who may be harder to love, we are able to take a closer look. Perhaps, like Margot, they may have beautiful handwriting.

Karen Pearson is the communication director of the Lake Union Conference Women's Ministries Board, and she is an administrative assistant in the Department of Communication at Andrews University.