The Hurt Man

When my daughters were baptized into the Episcopal church, their grandmother gave them a Bible for kids. While it has (from my perspective) some disturbingly evangelical spins on things, they like the pictures and go on binges where that is all they want to read before bed. We've been reading the story of the Good Samaritan (or, according to Sarah, "The Story of the Hurt Man") for the last few nights.

Sarah is very sensitive. While watching the Super Bowl with her dad last year, she saw a commercial for a heart drug. The heart, a guy in a rubber heart suit, was walking down the street and was subsequently mugged by thugs representing cholesterol, lack of exercise, and smoking. He is left by an burnt-out building, while the narrator intones about how this tragedy could have been prevented with the drug. Sarah started to cry and to this day asks "what happened to the valentine Mama?"

I explain that his Mama came and he went home and had a hot bath and a story, but almost a year later she is still asking about it.

There is a boy at their preschool who is acting out some of the domestic violence he sees at home. He is a pariah of sorts with the other kids and a trial for the teachers.

The girls have spent the last few weeks collating bad behavior with this boy. When I get after them for something they apologize and say that behavior of that sort is his behavior, not what good kids do.

After several readings of "The Hurt Man" last week, Sarah said "Mama, X (the boy) is like the hurt man. Everyone ignores him and nobody plays with him." We talked about how the girls don't have to play with him if he is mean, but they do have to be kind to him and everyone else.

When I dropped them off this morning, the boy ran right up to them and said "Am I still your friend today?" It broke my heart. Apparently, they have decided that he needs a friend just like the hurt man.

Note to self. They are listening.