Tough Skin, Tender Heart

It finally happened today.  I looked up to hear you protesting, “I want to play, too!” as the other kids ran away.  Your shoulders slumped, tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, I saw you standing dejectedly on the edge of the playground.  “Mommy, they called me a baby, they said I couldn’t play with them! I told them, ‘I’m four, I’m a big girl.’”  Oh sweet girl, you are a big girl.  I didn’t hear what they called you, but I heard you respond, I heard the hurt in your voice.  Moms instinctively know when their babies are hurt.  

This was a shock to your system.  You’ve always been invited to play, you’ve always been welcomed with a smile.  You had no idea this could happen.  It doesn’t matter that half the kids were your age.  It doesn’t matter that they come from good families whose mothers preach kindness and love.  What will matter is how you respond the next time it happens.  And it will happen again; someone will hurt you with their words or maybe even their hands.  

My sweet girl, here is my wish for you:

May you develop a tough skin, but a tender heart. 

May you know that if someone is unkind to you,
that says more about them than about you. 

Maybe they are tired and just grouchy.  Maybe things feel a little crazy for them and they are trying to take back some control by telling you no.  Maybe it makes them feel powerful to wipe away your smile with just a few unkind words.  No matter what…it’s not about you.  I pray your skin grows just a little tougher, able to withstand the barbs of angry individuals.  Because it won’t just be on the playground that you encounter them–it will be in the classroom, on the stage, at the soccer game, in your workplace, maybe even in your own home.  When you have a tough skin, their arrows won’t pierce as deeply.  You’ll see them for who they are–sad, afraid, tired, out of control.  

At the same time, don’t toughen your heart.  The world has enough people whose hearts seem to be made of stone.  Instead, let your heart be tender.  May your heart feel sad for those who hurt and for those they have hurt.  May you remember how this made you feel and may you choose words that bring joy, not pain, when you speak.  May you be a friend who invites and includes, rather than ignores and excludes.  You won’t do this all the time, I know–none of us are perfect and we all have our grumpy days.  But may your tender heart choose kindness more often than not.  May your tender heart be grief-stricken when you hurt another friend and may you ask forgiveness quickly.  

We talked about how sad we felt.  We danced it out in the car.  We split a chocolate milkshake and I asked you to remember how this felt the next time you saw someone by themselves on the playground.  “They won’t be alone, Mommy.  I’ll invite them.”  That’s my big girl.