Sarah, my daughter's friend, was a spirited, adventurous personality. One Sunday afternoon when she was a toddler, we couldn’t find her in any of the church rooms—even closets--; rooms at the house, around the trees in the yard.... And she’d shown up on her tricycle, where she’d gone across the street by herself!
Sarah had 3 older brothers—she was a tough one, but her heart hadn’t forgotten its quick soft smile, and she and Emi were fast friends. One day, one of her brothers was teasing her to an extreme, it seems, such that it brought Emi to tears.
"Stop that! No more!" she wailed, and the mother came rushing into the room; the siblings had to explain that no one had been mean to Emi, and they had to calm her down!
Then there was the day Sarah found a dead baby bat. Most little girls would be screaming at the sight of a rat, but Sarah shed tears for “the poor little thing.”
Adults might look at these two girls—one who would cry for a dead animal, and one for a teased friend—and conclude they were just immature.
I wonder if their tears show their hearts were still tender, and they hadn’t yet lost the ability to express love? Maybe THEY were still rich, and we “mature” adults are the actual “poor little things”?)
