Yesterday something happened that was difficult - I am still thinking about it this morning, and it is eating at me.
We were at our homeschool co-op, and while Matthew and Nene were in their classes, I was out in the playground area with Aaron and Lily. They were playing, each doing their own thing, and the weather was beautiful for January! I saw on a step and watched them. Aaron was climbing up and down a play structure, and Lily was going to town with the wood chips that carpet the playground area. Not throwing them, but having fun digging her hands in and letting them trickle out of her hands. Periodically she would make an inquisitive sound and look at me, and I knew she meant, "Look Mama! What is this stuff?"
There were a few other children out there, part of the childcare that goes on while their siblings and parents go to class. Lily and Aaron don't go to the childcare, but I could write another post about that (nothing wrong with the childcare, just trying again to bond and attach with Lily - she is not ready to be left with anyone else at this point).
All of a sudden, this little boy starts walking towards Lily (who is still busy playing with wood chips). He comes right up to her, and pushes her chest with his hand.
I observe, and am unsure about what his intent was. I could not quite believe what I just saw.
Then, the boy makes a little circle and comes back towards Lily, and now comes and pushes her AGAIN - this time with his foot.
He starts to go behind Lily and I can see that more will come if I do not intervene.
I close the gap with a few quick strides and I tell him, "Don't push her." I try to bring him over to me by putting my arm around him, but he is trying to squirm and run away. I hold him firmly and say, "Do not push her. You would not like it if someone bigger than you came over and was pushing and hitting you."
No apology, no eye contact - he wanted to run away, and I let him.
My blood was boiling. I was so enraged and saddened. Silly, right? Probably a 3 or 4 year old. Kids don't have as much maturity or discernment or inhibition. Yes, I get that. No big deal, right? Just shrug it off - kids are kids. But I was MAD.
It makes me so mad to think about anyone being mean to Lily. To any of my kids for that matter, but especially her. And questions spiral within me. Since the boy didn't tell me (and I didn't ask), I wonder, "Why?" Why are you picking on her? Is it because she is smaller than you? Is it because she is the "new kid" as she is not usually out there with them on the playground? Is it as simple as that? Or is it because she looks different? Is it because her nose and mouth look different? Is it because she has a scar? Is it just because it would be interesting to get a reaction?
It made me mad that the world is not a good place. That even in a place I usually feel very safe, I can see how life can be for my children, and especially for my daughter. And you know what, later something similar happened again. Different culprit, though. In the middle of lunch, this time a little girl came over and kicked wood chips onto Lily. Through all of these incidences, Lily was not aware that people were being unkind to her. And I felt thankful for that, and yet fearful, too, of the day she realizes that she looks different from other people.
To be fair, I am sure that if the parents of these children had seen these things happening, they would have intervened. But you know how it is at the playground during lunch hour and how zooey it can get. I know that I cannot watch each of my children 100% all of the time and eat my lunch and talk to other moms at the same time.
When I look at Lily - I can see how beautifully she is doing. She is growing in every way. Learning to love, learning to trust. I have seen her small, malnourished, and tense body fill out and relax little by little. Her smile is infectious, and her eyes are inquisitive, bright, and look at all of us with wonder and adoration.
However, when I change her diaper, I see those scars on her bottom, and on her thighs. Again, it makes me think of how neglected she must have been to have full thickness scarring from diaper rash. How she must have been left in a dirty diaper for hours and hours. How much it must have hurt. How tiny she was when it happened. How nobody responded to her pain. And I want to just scoop her up and tell her, "No more pain, Lily. No more pain."
But then yesterday happened. And it makes me think about how I cannot promise her that. I will not always be there to protect and shield her from it.
What can I do? I know that she is the Lord's. I know that I will now always be there with her when things come up, but He will. As she grows up, she will undoubtedly encounter more questions, and teasing and cruelty because of her differences. The unkindness of human nature and this world just reinforces how we need the Lord.
And even for my other children, too. Because let's face it - we have ALL endured feeling different for any little thing. Not just what we look like, but our dress, but our interests, our beliefs. . .
Oh, and pray for me, too. Boy do I need the Lord to navigate through all of this stuff. And I am sure there is more to come. One gentleman I know with grown children once told me that through the trials and pain of parenting, "The Lord is making me into a *real* Christian."
There was a bit of comfort though.
Towards the end of lunch, I saw Lily on the blacktop, sitting joyfully with a big rubber punch ball, and with Nathan and Nathan's friend Ellie flanked on either side of her. I could hear Nathan explaining to Ellie all of the things that Lily likes to do and can do now. Ellie was smiling and nodding. They made a small, strong unit. I felt reassured and thankful.
I feel a bit better now that I have written this out. I have been interrupted twice since I began my post in the early morning when everyone was still sleeping. Now, Lily is sitting on my lap in her fleece footie pajamas. Her brothers are running around making a slide with all of the pillows and mats we have in the house. I just heard Aaron say, "And Lily can go on it, too! But it might be too dangerous!"
Matthew replied, "Just hold it up! We need more stabilizers!"
Thank the Lord for the mercies of these fun, sweet moments to encourage me through the harder parts :-).
