The actions of a ten-year-old should not affect me so deeply, but they do.
I realize that not many people put such high value on written words like I do, but I feel like written words are the finest gems given to us. When someone takes the time to write me a meaningful sticky note, e-mail, or hand written letter, I hold it dear to my heart. Words are my currency. And when I write words to people, I consider them diamonds. Maybe this makes me sound haughty, “My words are diamonds.” But that is the value I hold on them. If I write you a message, I think about each sentence. I give you not a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook, but a piece of my heart taken from the pages of my soul. My written words are the most precious thing I have. Other people have talents, gifts, qualities, or skills that they are fiercely protective of, but to me, the written word is the most special thing I can give.
That is why I am hurt so deeply when I see my words torn, erased, or deleted--especially when it is done right in front of me. I completely understand that other people don’t know how strongly I feel, but when I see the words that I wrote destroyed, then that is a piece of my heart that has been rejected. I feel like diamonds were given and then run through a grinder.
I have not taken enough child psychology courses to figure this thing out. He’s mad at me when I don’t recognize him for doing well; he asks for me to notice that he is being good. But when I recognize that, he sabotages himself. He won’t work for the good alone. He must do something bad first and then redeem himself by doing good.
This is not how redemption is supposed to work.
These past months have been such a test of sharing God’s love. I am tested daily, hourly--every minute in fact. I fail often. I want this child to know that I will still like him and show kindness even if he does wrong. I tell him I don’t want to be mad at him. I think to myself, “I can’t recognize his efforts in front of the class because he ruins himself afterward, so I will use the sword of love that I was gifted with--my written words.”
Sword of love, you ask? Yes. Yes, love is a battle. Sometimes loving others is easy, and other times it is not. It’s then that you have to take the sword of love that God armed you with so that you can cut through the vines that have wrapped around the body of the person you are trying to reach.
I wrote him words. They weren’t even quite diamond words, because I knew they would be too rich for him to accept. I just wrote him Sapphire words. Short, clean, simple. But with sincerity and a sparkle, you know? And what did he do? He tore them up in front of my face.
It wasn’t done in an intentionally mean way. No, he was laughing it off and making jokes. I wonder, what was he thinking on the inside of that ten-year-old head? Was it too hard for him yet? Realizing that his teacher still cares about him, even though she gets upset at him on a daily basis? How could such a thing be true?
It’s God’s love and only God’s love. I have gone through a terrible battle to get to this place. And it’s not over. The bombs keep on dropping, the snipers keep on shooting, the poisonous gas keeps permeating the air that I breathe. I want so desperately for it to be over, but I know that the battle will continue, because I have only just begun to learn how to fight.
Diamond words are my sword, and they arm me at both sides. I will cut through the mess to show you love.
I realize that not many people put such high value on written words like I do, but I feel like written words are the finest gems given to us. When someone takes the time to write me a meaningful sticky note, e-mail, or hand written letter, I hold it dear to my heart. Words are my currency. And when I write words to people, I consider them diamonds. Maybe this makes me sound haughty, “My words are diamonds.” But that is the value I hold on them. If I write you a message, I think about each sentence. I give you not a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook, but a piece of my heart taken from the pages of my soul. My written words are the most precious thing I have. Other people have talents, gifts, qualities, or skills that they are fiercely protective of, but to me, the written word is the most special thing I can give.
That is why I am hurt so deeply when I see my words torn, erased, or deleted--especially when it is done right in front of me. I completely understand that other people don’t know how strongly I feel, but when I see the words that I wrote destroyed, then that is a piece of my heart that has been rejected. I feel like diamonds were given and then run through a grinder.
I have not taken enough child psychology courses to figure this thing out. He’s mad at me when I don’t recognize him for doing well; he asks for me to notice that he is being good. But when I recognize that, he sabotages himself. He won’t work for the good alone. He must do something bad first and then redeem himself by doing good.
This is not how redemption is supposed to work.
These past months have been such a test of sharing God’s love. I am tested daily, hourly--every minute in fact. I fail often. I want this child to know that I will still like him and show kindness even if he does wrong. I tell him I don’t want to be mad at him. I think to myself, “I can’t recognize his efforts in front of the class because he ruins himself afterward, so I will use the sword of love that I was gifted with--my written words.”
Sword of love, you ask? Yes. Yes, love is a battle. Sometimes loving others is easy, and other times it is not. It’s then that you have to take the sword of love that God armed you with so that you can cut through the vines that have wrapped around the body of the person you are trying to reach.
I wrote him words. They weren’t even quite diamond words, because I knew they would be too rich for him to accept. I just wrote him Sapphire words. Short, clean, simple. But with sincerity and a sparkle, you know? And what did he do? He tore them up in front of my face.
It wasn’t done in an intentionally mean way. No, he was laughing it off and making jokes. I wonder, what was he thinking on the inside of that ten-year-old head? Was it too hard for him yet? Realizing that his teacher still cares about him, even though she gets upset at him on a daily basis? How could such a thing be true?
It’s God’s love and only God’s love. I have gone through a terrible battle to get to this place. And it’s not over. The bombs keep on dropping, the snipers keep on shooting, the poisonous gas keeps permeating the air that I breathe. I want so desperately for it to be over, but I know that the battle will continue, because I have only just begun to learn how to fight.
Diamond words are my sword, and they arm me at both sides. I will cut through the mess to show you love.
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