Yesterday Abigail came home from school in tears. Apparently her “two best friends” she made on the first day told her they didn’t want to be with her anymore and to go find other friends. Climbing onto my lap, her usually happy eyes drooped. “I don’t like school, Mom. It’s too sad.”
As she shared this with me, childhood memories of being ostracized and feeling so weird and outside the group came flooding back. I wanted to pull her from school right then. Come back, home, honey. We’ll homeschool again.
But I didn’t do that, of course. I let her cry and we snuggled. After a few minutes, the smile returned to her face. Her confidence and perky disposition returned as well.
I’m weak on wisdom in this area, but I told her to be kind to the girls. We prayed that they would be able to work it out and get along again, but I also told her she didn’t have to be friends with kids who treat her badly. She’s awesome and deserves awesome friends. I have no clue if this was good advice, but I tried.
Mostly, I think the cuddling was the important part. Growing up, I didn’t have a mom waiting when I got home from school. She worked too much. If I was sad, I buried it. No one even knew. How I relish the privilege of being the one my sweet girl comes to. I get to listen carefully to her heartaches, shower her with the loving words she longs to hear, and hold her till the storm passes. Maybe these quiet listening, touching, whispering moments are the heart of parenting like there’s no tomorrow.
As I caressed her hair, I also reminded her Jesus is with her every moment. “When things get hard,” I said, “run to him, okay?”
Such simple advice, but true, right? For all of us. When things get hard, run to Jesus.
Be to me a rock of refuge,
to which I may continually come;
you have given the command to save me,
for you are my rock and my fortress. Ps. 71:3
Remember, he loves you like there’s no tomorrow.