Shortly after Timothy was born, my mind began racing toward his middle school years. I dreaded the thought of him being publicly picked on or made fun of by others.Well, it seems I was off in my estimation by about 10 years. It happened today . . .
The scene: Chic-Fil-A playroom. On duty: Big sister.
Two older kids began picking on Timothy as he was playing in front of the slide.
Anna Ritchie gallantly stepped in. "That's my brother."
In response, one of the kids pushed Timothy.
Timothy paid them no mind and simply climbed up the stairs, making a quick getaway. Anna Ritchie, seeing little brother was safe, stepped out of the playroom and phoned me at work from Teressa's cell phone.
"Dad, I'm here at Chic-Fil-A, and there were two big kids picking on Timothy. One of them even pushed Timothy."
Pausing to take a deep breath, she said slowly, "Dad, I am very concerned about these two kids."
Her words, combined with her tone, was so precious to me.
She spoke protectively of her brother. She had turned both cheeks, and with no more cheeks to turn, I could tell she was actively restraining herself from throwing off the gloves and rumbling! No one is picking on her brother (except for, of course, her)!
Yet . . .
She spoke compassionately of others. She said more than once in our conversation, "Daddy, I tried to talk to them, but they just wouldn't listen." She was truly bothered for these kids, wanting them to know there is a better way to life.
Out time on the phone was one of those great character forming moments. A moment I will forever cherish.
Timothy, you have a great big sister.
Oh, and by the way, Mom stepped into the playroom . . . and well . . . let's just say things got resolved.
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