Love one another (Part 1)

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

John 13:34-35 (NIV)

I was eleven years old. The new girl in school in a new town. I was from a smallish town and now living in the big city/suburbs of Atlanta. My parents were typical middle class Americans. We never struggled financially, but my parents were always extremely frugal. My mother was the coupon queen way before reality shows about extreme couponers ever came about. As a 31 year old mother of 3 children myself, I can now appreciate the frugality I was taught at such a young age. But as a pre adolescent...well, I just wanted to fit in. I wanted a pair of Guess jeans with zippers on the ankles and Clinique makeup. I had to settle for an off brand pair of jeans from TJ Maxx and Cover Girl makeup. 

I tried to offset my unfashionable self by dousing myself in what I was sure to be my saving grace in the cool department:  Revlon's  Jean Nate' after bath splash. I proudly wore that fragrance that my mother had given me. I even carried it in my gym bag and would douse myself in it after playing dodge ball or running track in PE. Even as a band geek, I was sure that something like the fragrance I wore would bring me up a couple notches in the cool department.

I've always been a modest girl. I mostly contribute this to the fact that I never had a womanly figure until my mid-20's (On my wedding day, I barely weighed 100 pounds and was 5'4.). And although I love and embrace my more "petite" figure now, I did not love it in the sixth grade when I weighed only 60 pounds and had zero girlish curves to speak of. While other girls would change clothes in front of each other in the locker room without any hesitation, I always quietly hid myself in a bathroom stall, embarrassed of my pre-adolescent body. And there was this one particular day that pretty much made me want to crawl in a hole for the remainder of my adolescence:

"What's that smell?" she asked her friends.

"It's that stinky girl again with her stinky perfume." one of the others replied followed by roars of laughter from the other girls in the locker room. 

I remained hidden in the bathroom stall until everyone was gone. I was already unfashionable and apparently now had earned the nickname of "stinky girl".  Hot tears streamed down my face. I threw my bottle of Jean Nate' body splash away that day...along with what little self esteem I had before being called stinky girl. Why were they so cruel? Did they not know my heart? Could they not see that even though I didn't have the greatest wardrobe (or perfume), all I wanted was for someone to love me? For someone to call me friend? I had so much love to give. Yet, now I carried a battle scar.

Oh, the scars that we carry caused by the words of others. None of us are innocent. We have all hurt someone with the words that pass our lips and our actions or lack thereof. Are we not all different and quirky in our own ways? Jesus sure befriended and loved some less than stellar people. 

And the hurt just passes from one person to the next...all attempts at masking our own scars. Instead of loving people, we are sarcastic and hurtful. People love to get their pleasure from other peoples pain. 

Last week, we drove past a passed out homeless man. He laid in the middle of the side walk and one would have to step over him as he had turned that sidewalk into his bed. What had happened to him I wondered? What was the turning point that he was now passed out at 10am in the South Florida heat? What scars did he carry? Was he picked on in school? I wanted to go talk to him, but I don't think my husband would have understood the point. What would I say anyway?

"Let your speech always be with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person."

Colossians 4:6 (NAS) 

The incident in the bathroom would not be the last time I would be made fun of during those awkward years. If there is anything I can teach my children it is to love and extend compassion to those that are not wearing designer jeans and may be wearing old drugstore perfume. I want them to stand up for the girl who is crying in the bathroom stall and to hug the poor man laying on sidewalk. I don't want sarcasm and rudeness to come from their lips...their mouths are too beautiful for such things. 

How does a mother teach her child that?

 Even harder, how does a mother teach her children to love those who hurt them? To forgive them?

It was a three word command. Love one another. 

Love each other like Jesus' loves us. With grace, compassion, and mercy.

It seems so simple. Yet, we all fail at this. 

(To be continued)