Us and Them

I had a lump in my throat today as I drove away from Skateland after dropping off my oldest daughter for a birthday party. I knew I was leaving her with a group of girls, one in particular, who had been unkind to her most of the year. But she wanted to go, and one thing I have learned as a veteran teacher and an amateur parent is that we can't prohibit heartache. It has a way of finding its way around our best intentions to prevent it. And as I prayed for my little girl, I also said a prayer for myself because this kind of "us and them" unkindness taps into some of my biggest insecurities and my very deepest sense of injustice.

Us and Them. Cool kids and nerds. Haves and have nots. Liberals and conservatives. Public school and private school. Presbyterians and Baptists. Citizens and illegals. White and black. White and everyone else. Us and Them...

Some of my early "Us and Them" experiences have created a life-long empathy for "Them," and, unfortunately, a bit of a chip on my shoulder towards the "Us" in our midst. This is probably why I am a teacher; why I align myself with more liberal causes; why I bristle at organizations that operate on an invite-only basis. The cruel reality is that we live in an invite-only world, and the "Us" invitations are few and far between. 

Fetal Position. Dark room. Gallon of cookie dough ice cream, please. We've all been there. 

Really, though, there isn't time for that. I have three children. Three beautiful, talented, intelligent children who, regardless of how fiercely their father and I love them, will undoubtedly face heartbreak and rejection. So, it's time for me to stop nursing the chip on my shoulder. It's time for me to teach them effective ways to thrive in an "Us and Them" world. It's time for me to grow up a little, too. Because, truly, it would pain me as much to watch my children go through life with a chip on their shoulder as it would if they were to adopt the mentality that allows people to dole out acceptance as if it were their right to do so. 

Last week, my husband gave a sermon on just this thing, though it only really resonated with me today as I was driving home, tears rolling down my face, praying for my daughter's spirit to survive this "Us and Them" world. The paraphrased version, and the part that I take to heart, is that when our world wants to box people in, widen the boundaries. Jesus did. He didn't see people with a label. He saw people. Widen the boundaries. Love people- all people, all the time, no matter what. Everyone is invited; no one is excluded. 

It turns out that Amelia had a great time at the party. She didn't even mention the girls who had been mean. But she glowed as she described how much her best friend loved her sewing kit, and she giggled as she rubbed her sore behind and recounted the number of times she fell on the hardwood floor. Her boundaries are still wide open.

There is a lesson in that. The lump in my throat wasn't as much for my daughter, but for myself, for my own feelings of inadequacy, because of my own narrow boundaries. If I give in to the chip on my shoulder, I am just as guilty of propagating "Us and Them" as those imposing the labels. "Us and Them" has no power unless we yield to it. 

Amelia was able to have fun, able to smile and join in with the girls who had hurt her in the past, because she isn't fully aware of the rules of "Us and Them." It doesn't exist for her. She just assumes she is always in, and it confusing to her when she is not. This is how I should live, how I have to live, and how I will teach my children to live. Because it's truth, as long as we give that truth the power it deserves.

The boundaries are wide open.