Playground Heartbreak
Today we visited a popular local playground, and as we arrived we saw one of N's preschool friends, Annie. N and Annie excitedly embraced and began to play together. Later a few of Annie's other friends arrived, and N quickly made pals with those girls too, as they were all about the same age. L tagged along excitedly, desperate to be a big girl. Giggling, she followed them around the playground wherever they went, shouting "Wait for me guys!!" The big girls were kind enough not to shoo her away, but not really kind enough to play directly with her or answer her constant stream of chatter, except for N or Annie on occasion.
When the time came to leave, I said to N, "Give Annie a big hug, it's time to leave!" N turned to Annie and hugged her, while L turned to another one of the big girls and held out her arms for a hug. I could see her thought process: These are my friends too, and I need to give them hugs before we go! The big girl responded to L's grin and wide-armed invitation to embrace by giving her a look that said "I'm weirded out" and pushing past her to get to the slide.
L turned her head, and all at once I could see it in her eyes. She got it. I recognized the look that only a parent would recognize-- the look that says, "I'm about to cry, but I'm trying to be brave." In that split second, as I stood across the playground with C in the stroller, powerless to help her and too late to save her from the hurt, my heart broke for her so painfully that I almost cried myself.
Within another moment, she had rallied herself, and was charging towards the slide and generally giving Mommy a hard time about having to leave. Did she really have that adult-like understanding for a split second, or did I imagine it? I thought about it for the rest of the afternoon, and I guess I'll never know. Either she's thick-skinned or she had forgotten about it within thirty seconds. I do know that it affected me deeply. I think it was because, in that brief look on her face, I saw a future of disappointments and hurts that she will not be so quick to get over, and I imagined myself watching her go through them. Maybe at those times I'll feel as powerless as I did today on that playground.
Oh, my impulsive sweet girl, may your tendency to love with reckless abandon never be hindered by too much heartbreak.
Lord, protect her heart. And protect mine too. Don't give us more hurt than we can handle.
When the time came to leave, I said to N, "Give Annie a big hug, it's time to leave!" N turned to Annie and hugged her, while L turned to another one of the big girls and held out her arms for a hug. I could see her thought process: These are my friends too, and I need to give them hugs before we go! The big girl responded to L's grin and wide-armed invitation to embrace by giving her a look that said "I'm weirded out" and pushing past her to get to the slide.
L turned her head, and all at once I could see it in her eyes. She got it. I recognized the look that only a parent would recognize-- the look that says, "I'm about to cry, but I'm trying to be brave." In that split second, as I stood across the playground with C in the stroller, powerless to help her and too late to save her from the hurt, my heart broke for her so painfully that I almost cried myself.
Within another moment, she had rallied herself, and was charging towards the slide and generally giving Mommy a hard time about having to leave. Did she really have that adult-like understanding for a split second, or did I imagine it? I thought about it for the rest of the afternoon, and I guess I'll never know. Either she's thick-skinned or she had forgotten about it within thirty seconds. I do know that it affected me deeply. I think it was because, in that brief look on her face, I saw a future of disappointments and hurts that she will not be so quick to get over, and I imagined myself watching her go through them. Maybe at those times I'll feel as powerless as I did today on that playground.
Oh, my impulsive sweet girl, may your tendency to love with reckless abandon never be hindered by too much heartbreak.
Lord, protect her heart. And protect mine too. Don't give us more hurt than we can handle.
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