I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried....

Well, I guess I could but I'm TOTALLY not making this up.

Tonight just before my youngest daughter and I knelt down for family prayers (because everyone else was out for the night) I went to turn the tv off and noticed that someone had written something in the dust on the base.

(yes I have enough dust that you can write in it...don't judge)

We have a flat screen tv with an rounded rectangular base.  On one side of this base was a smiley face and on the other side?

The F-word.

Yep.  I did a double take and looked a little more closely.  Guess what came to mind?

THIS STORY.   About a second grade teacher who was trying find out who was writing the F-word around her classroom so she had the kids write the word out so she could see if she could match up the handwriting.  I had heard a passing blurb earlier today about the story but hadn't actually seen anything about it.   That little radio blurb had obviously stuck with me because that story immediately came to my mind.

(I wonder if Jillian had seen or heard the story? Hmmmmm...)

Jillian came down the stairs and I pointed it out to her asking her what she knew about it.  Do you know what she said?  She said "I don't see anything."  So I took her up closer and showed it to her.  She tried denying that she wrote it but I was pretty certain it was her.  A mom can tell about these things.

That and the smiley face on the opposite side was kind of a give away.

She wasn't fessing up so I told her that I would talk to the other kids about it and that if no one came forward that the tv would be turned off for everyone until the end of the month.  That shook her loose.  I wasn't even angry or yelling I just wanted to know why she wrote it.

Do you want to know why?  Of course you do.

Why did she write it? Because she was bored.  I told her if she was that bored then she should have gotten a rag and dusted off the shelf instead of writing that in the dust.

We had a discussion about that word and about swear words in general.  I couldn't even ask her if she knew what it meant because then I would have to have tell her what it means.  And we haven't had "The Talk" with her yet. Shut up.  She's my baby.

*Note to self:  Pencil in "The Talk" with Jillian.

We had a good little chat and I hope she has learned..
A: that the F-word is not a good word
and
2: If she tells the truth in the beginning things go better.

The moral of this story for me?

Dust more often.

Lesson learned.

Compassion

I was tagged back by Shauna over at Life on Celestial Circle.  I figured that maybe I could draw that tag out into a few different posts, rather than one general post.  She had some really great questions.  The question that I tackle today is

What characteristic do you find yourself constantly striving for but never quite reaching?

I didn't have to think long on this one. Compassion.

The definition of compassion is: a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate that misfortune.

It is a struggle for me.  It's not that I don't feel the sympathy or sorrow for others.  My struggled comes with that "strong desire" to do something about it.  Mostly because I feel like whatever I do to help it really won't matter.  It is a very strong, very real sense of helplessness.

It wasn't always this way.  In my life I have witnessed much struggling and sorrow within my own family.  In the past I have tried to step in and help, tried to alleviate the suffering.  In doing so it seemed to be made clear to me over and over, no matter my words, no matter what my actions, no matter how many tears I would cry for and with people, nothing changed.  The pain and the suffering were still there.

After time, and time, and time again of trying and flailing and failure upon failure something happened.  Something broke deep down inside of me. I can pretty much pinpoint the day and the occurrences that led up to that point but I won't go into that.  There are times when I have difficulty summoning up sympathy.  I have to dig deep to find it some days.  Sorrow is still my companion.  It comes and sits quietly beside me.  Sympathy and Compassion do not come unless called upon for a long period of times and sometimes they don't arrive unless I scream.

I am acutely,  aware that I lack this particular characteristic.  I strive to look at life and others, especially those closest to me, with more compassion but I always find myself falling short.  I will continue to strive for more compassion in my life because I am keenly aware of how important it is.

I hope and pray for the day when Compassion and Sympathy will sit on either side of me, pushing Sorrow to the edge of the couch. Hopefully that day will come when they will take me by the hand, soften my heart, and lead and direct me to help those who are suffering.

And maybe, just maybe that time it will make a difference.