My kids were bullied in School.
It was a harsh reality, but something they faced every day growing up in rural Saskatchewan. I don’t know why they were targeted but perhaps it was because we were the new people who hadn’t grown up there.
Many years have gone by since that time but I still remember the tears, bloody noses, and hardships my children faced, and my many attempts to protect them. Naturally, as a mom I wanted to ensure they had a place to play where they felt loved, so one winter I set out to do just that.
Even though the town ice rink was only a couple miles down the road, I decided to make a bully-free ice rink on our own farm. It was supposed to be a place they could skate without ridicule or harassment.
Without much experience, I set out to prepare the ground for the rink. The kids and I decided upon a spot right in front of the kitchen window that proved to be the flattest.
As my kids counted out the exact steps for a perfect square, I smiled at the beginnings of a primitive ice rink where they could play without being picked on. It was a wonderful feeling as if I were punishing the town for being so cruel. I wanted to shout, “Take that you bullies! You can’t get my kids here!”
Soon we started filling buckets with hot water and lumbering them out to the rink-site one by one, slowly saturating the frosty steaming ground. I didn’t really know if I was supposed to use hot water or cold but I heard somewhere that hot water made the best rink, so we continued until the hot water tank died. After that, we started using cold water.
Finally after spending our entire Christmas holidays hauling buckets out to the rink, we declared it finished on New Years Eve. We laced up our skates, cranked up the music, and pranced across the bumpy uneven surface under the stars. It wasn’t perfect with its bubbles and holes, but it was our private oasis that nobody could see but us.
The first day of school in January brought on a panic I hadn’t expected. The school bus had to pick up the kids in front of the house, and that meant the bullies would see the ice rink. At first I hadn’t worried too much about it. The kids were proud of their creation not ashamed.
When the bus rolled into the yard and stopped in front of the ice rink, every child on it pasted their evil faces against the cold foggy windows, looking at the ice rink, laughing hysterically. My heart broke as I watched my little happy angels drop their heads in shame.
I wondered why they thought it was funny. Sure it was lumpy, uneven, and probably not a perfect square, but that shouldn’t matter to a bunch of kids.
When they returned home, the bus dropped the kids off again and the same thing happened all over again. This time my kids ran into the house with hot steamy tears rolling down their cherub faces.
“They said it’s a pee rink!” my oldest shouted through sobs as she tore off her jacket and headed to her room.
Why would they say such a thing?
After much consoling, I found out the reason. The one thing we had not considered while making this rink was our water. It came from a rusty old well and it was orange. So, naturally the rink looked like it was a pee yellow.
My heart sank! “Lord,” I cried. “No matter what we do, they still find a way to pick on my kids!”
It was only after many years that I began to realize the lesson in it all. God didn’t want us to hide from the bullies. He didn’t want me to teach my kids to run from trouble. He wanted me to teach them to face their fears and rely on Jesus Christ to save them instead of me.
Today, my kids are pretty resilient. Without the bullies, they wouldn’t be the people they are today. God was molding and making them bit by bit just like our imperfect ice rink. And when we face rejection because of the way we look, live, or act, stay strong because God loves us flaws and all!
Even if we’re pee yellow!
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.