Most of the time, our youngest two get along beautifully. When they don't, something like this soundbite from last week happens:
"Sweetheart, your big brother told me you two weren't getting along. You want to tell me what happened?"
Instant tears.
"I was mad at him."
"Really? Why is that?"
"Because he wouldn't play what I wanted him to play." Long pause. "So, I said some mean things."
"Hmmmmm. Isn't your brother your best friend?" Head nodding. "And is that how you want to treat your best friend?"
Very long pause. More tears.
"No."
Ah. And there's the problematic truth. She has discovered she isn't always the friend she wants to be.
And I can feel her pain.
How many times have I wished after the fact that my words had been different? That I had been able to offer the comfort or encouragement that was in my heart in a more tangible way? That I had been more faithful, more true, or more gracious? That I had been the friend I want to have?
The follow up to our conversation included instructions for her to write out a list of things she wanted to be as a friend. She threw herself into it, even typing up her list on the typewriter her Nana gave her for Christmas.
I couldn't agree more with her decisions:
five things how i will treat my frinds
one nice
tow kind
three no tochie toche (Admittedly, we had to laugh at this one--it's a reference to making sure she never used her hands to hurt her friends, but it did come out kinda funny.)
four playful
five treted like i would want to be treted
Amen and amen.
