Oliviah, my oldest is entering the age of giggling girls, hormones, peer pressure and the one I hate the most "mean girls".  I think this adjustment has been harder on me than it has been on her as I watch girls deliberately sneer, mock and ignore her.  It enrages me as a mother but I also know that it is part of this life.  

The other day I witnessed another episode with Oliviah and a "mean girl".  When I asked her about it she shrugged it off and commented "I'm just going to spread kindness mom".  As my blood pressure slowly began to rise and I pictured my little girl being picked last in gym class and walking around with signs on her back saying "kick me" (non of which ever have happened by the way), I thought, no way, this girl deserves to be put in her place.  How can you just keep being nice to her? She doesn't deserve your kindness!  You need to say something back, you need to be mean back, you need to, you need to.......hate her. You need to hate her. The words bounced around in my head like a racquetball trapped in a court. Although I didn't verbalize this, it was my heart. I was siding with the ways of hate and was about to teach my daughter to do the same.  Because somehow hate makes us feel better. It makes what happened to us feel a little less painful.   I saw my daughter as a victim but in her eyes, she wasn't a victim.  She was willing to put her heart out there over and over again no matter the risk, no matter the rejection because that's all she knew how to do.  And this rejection that she was buffering wasn't effecting her.  It wasn't causing her to go into depression or question who she was. God was teaching her how to love the way that He loves; unconditionally with abandonment of self. Not worrying about running out of love to give but knowing that the well would never run dry.  

I think of the cross and the ridicule and abuse that Christ took as He walked up that hill. He came and loved and died for the very ones that spit in His face and nailed Him to the cross. He came to show us a better way. The way of love. How many times have I contradicted Him with my actions, with my words. The difference between my little girl and I is that I am broken where love is concerned,  she is not.