By Jennifer Debenham
I have a beautiful younger sister
who is expecting her fifth child in October. She is twenty-eight years old but
doesn't look a day over eighteen, so often she gets curious looks when she
takes her expanding cluster of kiddos to the store or the park. People can't
imagine that she could really have all those children without having started
way too young. While she did have her first child at a young age by most
standards--she was twenty--she and her equally great husband were ready to be
parents. She and her husband have worked hard to become completely debt free,
despite accumulating student loans while they received their degrees. He
provides for their family comfortably, and she uses her degree in Early
Childhood Development to prepare her children for life. She is one of the best
moms I know. I've often thought that her children must have done something
extra special in Heaven to deserve the privilege of having her for a mother.
So imagine my incredulity when one
day a couple weeks ago someone saw her with her children and called her a
"teen-age mom" and then expressed their disgust by shouting out an
ugly expression that refers to an unchaste woman. If only this judgmental
person truly knew my sister.
This experience reminded me of a time when my parents, my
husband, and I were traveling in Italy a few years ago. My father had recently
suffered a back injury that made it painful for him to walk long distances, so
we had procured a wheelchair for him to help during the long walks we often
needed to take. At one point when we were walking a long distance from the
train station to our hotel room, my dad offered to put some of our heavier
suitcases in his wheelchair, which he then proceeded to push through the uneven
cobble-stone streets. By leaning on the wheelchair and pushing, it was easier
for him than walking unaided, but it was still a painful sacrifice. Not long
after he made the switch, an old, Italian lady walked by him, scowled, and
said, “Lazy American” loud enough for my poor dad to hear. Little did she know
how far from the truth her statement was.
Just a couple weeks ago my teenage daughter suffered a
similar misjudgment when some leaders at a girl’s camp thought that she—the new
girl that no one really knew yet—was guilty of stealing something from
someone’s tent. She and another girl (also new) were patted down, forced to
turn out their pockets, and had their bags thoroughly searched. My daughter and
her friend professed their innocence. Nothing was ever found. Indeed, no one
had complained of missing anything, but these leaders jumped to a negative
conclusion when the girls were found to be in a tent that didn’t belong to them.
The other girl’s parents and I were called up late that night to collect our
“wayward” daughters. Later it was discovered that the girls were trying to play
a harmless prank on a friend by hiding her sleeping bag in a different tent.
Fortunately, as parents and leaders we were able to work out the situation and
the girls remained at camp. Unfortunately, damage had already been done, and
rumors spread like a plague through the camp. My daughter and her friend had to
suffer the whispering rumors of their peers. By the time she came home she had
heard tales that included such whoppers as: they had destroyed the leaders’
tent and all their possessions, and: they had ruined all the food at camp by
throwing it on the ground, though I’m not sure how much credence the latter
story held when everyone ate just like usual the next day. It goes to show how
easily logic can be forgotten in such situations.
I wish I could say that I or those I love have never been the
victims of misjudgment. I wish even more that I could claim I had never
misjudged anyone, but I know that isn’t true. Still, at moments like this, when
those I love have suffered such injustices, I wish I could do away with all
judgment.
Only One is truly capable of knowing our hearts and being the judge. Fortunately
for us, He—as a victim of the worst misjudgment imaginable—also gave us the
perfect example of how to respond to such misjudgment when He said, “Father
forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Amen, Jenny. Many hugs!
ReplyDeleteThoughtful post Jenny. I remember years ago seeing a church member sitting at a table in a restaurant with a lit still smoking cigarette. Everyone one around me muttered something about his being a closet smoker; I had immediately concluded he had been seated at a table that had not been bused yest. Later, we discovered he did indeed have a bit of a WOW problem. But I personally have always been grateful that my first thought was a charitable one. It could have so easily turned out my way.
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