So this happened last night. Bedtime was nearing (at least in my mind) and Francesca was in her zone in the sun room. As sweet as honey, she was coloring a picture. For me. Anytime I came anywhere near the door to the room she exclaimed, "don't look Mommy." Of course, there were other people mulling about in this area too (including two year old Lilian; not to give it away!) With intermittent requests for Francesca to wrap things up, she finally emerged from the room asking Matt to help her rip the page out of the coloring book so that she could proudly present it to me. In these two seconds, Lilian made it over to said coloring book, took up an uncovered marker and began her own diligent work. Directly on Francesca's meticulously colored picture.
Well, perhaps you can imagine the reaction of this quality-oriented five year old! A slow, gut wrenching cry; an expression that accompanies the feeling of being gravely disrespected and wronged; a body limp from defeat. An all out puddle. And, in my mind, no chance for making her feel better (oh, no matter how much I try to accept the feelings of my children, there is the instinctual desire to make them feel better in times of despair.)
I work hard these days to have one and only one focus, the "tip of my arrow" so to speak: to respond with compassion. This sounds simple, but man is it the greatest challenge of my life. In this instance, I needed to respond with compassion to Francesca. But what does this look like? I asked her if I could put my arms around her with which she vehemently declined; I sat on the couch with her and asked her if I could still see the picture with which she met with disdain; I verbalized how hard it must be to have her work disrespected. Some progress here. And then there is the parental drive to also teach a lesson for which I had to drop. And then there is Lilian. Who knows of her intention (although Francesca was convinced she did it purposefully) but we had her apologize and talked with her about respecting other people's work.
So. I muddled through and will continue to do so with compassion as the tip of my arrow. This is the most important work of my life and I have only just begun.
