I think we all do that.
I could tell he was hurting. I begged him to share. Every mama knows the desperation. Your child holds the keys to your heart. And you want nothing more than to hold and protect and make everything right when they suffer. I know that some suffering is good and even sacred, part of what they need in this journey to gain valor and resolve and grit and dependence.
And in the broken places of our children that we can’t always fix, we often find our place of faith. We get to practice a holy release. It’s in this fragile space that we get to trust them to the One that loves and knows them even more than we do.
My son had walked up to the lunch table to sit by the boys in his class. He heard the words no mama wants their kid to hear… “you can’t sit here…you aren’t cool enough.”
My heart shattered as he told me the story.
My son is strong. My son is independent. But it doesn’t matter how brave or tough you are, mean words sting.
I cried with my son.
And we hugged.
I prayed for words to say. We prayed for this boy and his friends. We prayed for their hearts. We looked up scripture to help us see the truth and lies. We talked about Jesus and unconditional love. We talked about our worth in Christ. We talked about all the people that were rejected and lonely and despised and we talked about Jesus.
We talked about how people will sometimes disappoint and hurt us and how we will probably do the same at some point, but that Jesus will never fail us.
He finds us acceptable and “cool” because when he sees us, he doesn’t see our faults, our mess-ups, our ugly, our broken, our sin…He sees Jesus…because Jesus became our worst so we could be His best.
He was despised and rejected by men, so that we could be found worthy and accepted by God.
I told my son that there was nothing we could do to soften the heart of someone else that is so eager to tear down, but we could pray for them. We should pray for our enemies.
And so we did. And my son rested that night knowing he was loved.