It was a frizzy-headed stick figure with huge teeth and crazed eyes. It was a picture a classmate had drawn of me.
It’s been years since that middle school incident, but it hasn’t been years since I’ve had those same feelings of rejection and hurt.
When people act mean it hurts no matter what age or how it’s delivered, but what happens when we dare to dig beneath the surface of those mean actions? I'll bet we’ll find a person tormented with insecurities.
Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I had walked by that girl, leaned in close, and spoke kind words to her in the face of her hurtful actions.
Not in a million years could I have done that in middle school, but I’m not in middle school anymore. And now is a good time to remember that. Despite my internal battle, I must dare to love even those who hurt me.
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