Walk the Talk

It was hard enough sending my oldest daughter to jr. high, but the "phone call" was excruciating! Yes, my sweet, little Kiley started jr. high in the fall and when I dropped her off for the first day of school my heart ached. I flashed back to my first day of jr. high and the nerves that tortured me many years ago invaded me once again. The small confines of elementary school were now over and the GIANT corridors of a large school with many teachers, many class rooms and mean kids were now a regular part of her day. If I could go in her place, I would have. I would even dare to say that it was more nerve racking to send my daughter than it was for me to go when I was her age. I knew she could adjust to changing classrooms, but it was the personalities of the hormonal students that worried me. Lets face it, as I stated earlier, kids can be mean, viciously mean, and Kiley is a shy, timid girl. All I could do was surrender her to God and PRAY! I prayed all day until she was back in the safe confines of my car after school.

Before I knew it, K had survived her first week and I could breathe a sigh of relief. I should have held my breath a little longer......for I was about to get the "phone call." The caller I.D. showed the school name and my heart skipped a beat as I anxiously grabbed the phone. "Kiley's had an accident in P.E." I was told as I heard her crying in the background. "You need to come get her right away. We've done all we can, but she can't finish out the school day." After I interrogated the the school official, I had the basic facts: she fell on the track, her knees were badly bleeding and I wouldn't believe just how bad until I got there. I arrived at the school to find her freshly bandaged knees bleeding profusely, through the bandages.

The ride home was difficult for both of us. Now Kiley had to endure my interrogation. From her, I uncovered the following facts: she had just started running the mile when a group of boys came from behind and pushed her down, it was witnessed by 2 girls that said the boy reached out and pushed her, then ran off laughing with his friends. Finally, no one could identify just who exactly did it. I got K home, removed some small rocks (not pebbles, but rocks) from deep within her knees, cleaned them and rebandaged them. With that complete, my feelings of sadness and hurt for Kiley slowly turned to rage towards the punk (he didn't deserve the name "boy") that did this. I never knew I could feel such anger towards a jr. high aged boy! The phone call to my husband wasn't any easier. He was thinking about attending her P.E. class the next day with a shotgun! He was going to get that boy to come forward even if it required beating every single one of them until someone spoke up (not that he would EVER do this, but it made us both feel better just to imagine it).

We were finally able to get our anger under control by surrendering it to the Lord. The rage inside of us was only hurting us, not the boy and how could we teach Kiley grace and forgiveness if we didn't practice it ourselves? We prayed tirelessly that not only could we forgive, but that Kiley's heart would heal with our hearts and that the boy would confess his apology and we could forgive him fully. We submitted our hearts to God each day as we went through the daily process of cleaning and rebandaging her knees. Even though our hearts ached for her, especially while she couldn't ride her beloved horse, Polka Dot (which was her passion), we trusted God had a plan and He would use this situation to bring Him glory.

Exactly one week after the fall, Kiley joyfully leaped into the car after school to proclaim that the boy that pushed her had come to her and confessed and asked for an apology. Kiley graciously offered him forgiveness. I beamed with pride as I grabbed the phone to share the news with my husband. I believe with all my heart that God convicted that boy to come forward. I believe that God taught us something about grace, forgiveness and the power of prayer through the incident. Finally, I believe that K learned that her parents don't just talk the talk, but we also walk the talk.