In fact, words can crush a soul.
I know, because I saw it happen.
And when I did, I wanted to tell them that their actions, or lack thereof, hurt my daughter. I wanted to tell them that one day hopefully they would realize they were wrong. I wanted to tell them that they were missing out on interacting with a sweet little girl. And I wanted to tell my daughter just how rude they were.
But I didn't.
Instead, I watched it unfold before my eyes, watching my daughter wrestle with this situation, all the while seeing the hurt on her face.
I'm not accepted.
I'm an outcast.
I'm not OK.
It's not that I don't care. It's quite the contrary. You see, it's that I care a lot.
I want my daughter to love like Jesus.
I don't want to fight her every battle. I don't want to swoop in anytime she is hurting and fix it. Well, OK maybe that isn't true. I do, but I know that isn't always the best for her.
She needs to learn to wrestle with things, fight battles, process her hurts, process words that are said to hurt, and love like Jesus in the midst of her hurts. . . and I would much rather her do that at a young age, at home in a safe place, instead of later on out in this big, mean world.
And so I just watched.
As we walked home, the Other Nut and I talked to her. We were right-she was hurt. She had some questions and didn't quite understand. I could tell the wound was already there. Wounds seem to happen so easily don't they? I guess that is one of the consequences of sin.
As we talked through the hurt with her, she thought about her feelings and what she was thinking. I was so proud of her-to see her already processing, fighting against the lies at such a young age. We had a sweet talk, one that I will remember forever.
Part of me still wanted to take away the hurt, the wound already in her little heart, but I can't. Thankfully, she knows the One who can.
And so our conversation turned to Him, and the cost of living for Him.
She knows and embraces this truth in a way that inspires me. Young girl with a big faith.
I'm sure the hurt is still there. She might even remember that day for the rest of her life, but I pray that Jesus will heal the hurt and replace the lies with the truth.
When the conversation was over, she went to her room. And then I heard the sweetest sound. Tears began to fall down my cheeks as I heard her sweet voice singing praises to Jesus. Words that are full of truth.
I cried, because I know how actions, or a lack thereof, and words can hurt so deeply.
I cried, because I hope that somehow through my words, God began to heal her hurt.
I cried, because I was so proud of her for pressing into her hurt, already trying to process things at the young age of 11.
I cried, because I know that words hurt.
And I cried, because when my kids hurt, I hurt.
Sticks and stones can break my bones,
but words can crush a soul.
Linking up with Words Matter at Roscommon Acres