Powderpuff Forgiveness

Last Summer, just as we started potty training, K accidentally dropped the powderpuff from her Barbie compact into the commode. As she and I were discussing our options for retrieving it in another room, we heard the sound of a flush...and her powderpuff was gone.

My R, oblivious to the drama his sister was experiencing, had relieved himself then flushed without realizing the casualty. It is hard to believe the amount of anguish this caused my girl. She wailed. She moped. I had no idea she was so attached to that small, circular piece of foam! Despite R's apology that day, K has not been able to let it go. Almost a year later, she will still occasionally lower her head, stick out her bottom lip and take on her saddest puppy dog eyes before saying, "Mama, do you remember when R flushed my Barbie puff down the drain?"

This morning, R was particularly grouchy and being a thorn in K's side. She had clearly had enough of his 'brotherly love' when she assumed her sad, innocent victim look said, "Mommy, remember when he flushed my favorite Barbie powder puff down the toilet?"

I took the opportunity to give her a little lesson in forgiveness. I explained that when someone apologizes, the loving thing to do is accept their apology and forgive them. That means moving on. I explained that it was unloving of her to continue to bring up his mistake. There was no way to undo what happened to her puff. She needed to let it go.

Interestingly, just last night I was discussing a matter of unforgiveness in my own life with my husband. I was explaining to him how an old wound that I thought I had worked through was rearing its ugly head in my life again. I am still hurt over something from years ago. I am not even sure the person realizes that their actions affected me. Unlike, K, I have not been tempted to bring it up and point it out to the offender...but like K, I cannot seem to let go.

God used my curly girl and her 3 year old precociousness to hold a mirror up to my heart today. I know I should probably be ashamed that this incident seems to indicate my maturity is equal to that of my toddlers, but I am strangely grateful.

Now for the hard part: dealing with it!