Jabbing and poking

"Why did they call me a bad knight and bad cowboy? It hurt my feelings." Asher asked last night when I tucked him in with his goodnight song.

My heart tore with the realization that those words still stung hours later. Rather than thinking about the fun he had playing with his friends and trick-or-treating, his last thoughts before bed were replaying a bad scene in his mind.

I understand where the words came from, that they were meant to be in play, but they still hit a place where no one wants to be hit. A place every mother tries to protect in her child as long as possible. I want him to believe everyone loves him just as much as I do and that no one will ever think badly of him. It's a form of denial that begins the moment I first held his screaming body, looked into those beautiful eyes for the first time and truly believed he is the most perfect child ever born.

Of course I learned long ago that my son is less than perfect and earlier last evening before the friends arrived, I wanted to trade him in for a child who skips rather than grumps around the neighborhood. But I don't know if I'm ready for going through another round of feeling painful words from kids who don't understand what they're saying. The first time around of hearing "shorty" and "midget" were bad enough. I don't want to live through that part again.

Still surprised about how much this is weighing my heart down, I sat to talk to God about it this morning. I heard myself saying to Him, "I hate watching my son go through so much hurt." and realized how much God understands my pain.

Pain multiplied to the millionth power.

God didn't just watch people call His son, who really is perfect, "bad," but listened to words intended to cut down and disregard everything about His son's entire life. God watched His son be mocked, spit on, beaten, ignored, and enduring the worst possible pain. Did He have to turn His eyes away? Somehow distance Himself from the pain? Tell Himself Jesus would forget it all in the morning? Surely Jesus' years on earth frequently broke the Father's heart. And sometimes having a heart broken watching from afar hurts even more than having it pierced in the moment.

I know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs of childhood words and feelings being hurt. Somehow Asher will make it through to adulthood relatively unscarred. And I hope along the way I can help my boy understand he's not the first or last to be on the receiving end of hurt feelings.

And there is Someone who walks close to him who sympathizes with every jab and poke.

And I've been reminded the Father understands the pain in watching the jabbing and poking.