When I delivered it to my daughter I mentioned that I had bought it from a former classmate. She stopped short, dropped her head and told me she wasn't sure she could use it.
"Why?" I asked.
"Mom, he bullied me terribly when we were kids."
When you are a grandma and you find out that something painful happened to your grown kids when they were small and under your wing, news like this is extra sad, because there's not much you can do about it at this point.
She didn't really want to stir up old stuff. She had enough trouble loving her current self. I apologized for facilitating any hurt. I offered to resell it and get another.
"No," she said, " Just give me a minute to work through it."
When enough time had passed I asked if she wanted to share anything about what he had done. She replied with non-specifics, but cringed in the memories.
"I guess what I remember most is that it was the first time I prayed for my enemy."
She went on to say that she remembered us teaching her that there was power in praying for your enemies. She quoted the words of our Savior on the cross: ...They know not what they do."
"Did the bullying stop?" I asked.
"Probably not," she answered, "but it must have helped because I remember it as one of my early personal spiritual experiences."
She wasn't really sure if the act of praying for her tormentor changed him or if it changed her. Likely both. I suspect when we take our personal relationships to the Lord and lay them at His feet, we allow ourselves to be shifted in the balance.
I've caught myself lately, when I am angered by the misuse of power, especially in our own leadership, consciously turning my anger to prayer. It's the quickest way I've found to temper anger. If nothing else, it reminds me that very few, if any, people are completely good or evil.
"Help him, Lord, remember and access the better part of himself."
(and while you're at it Lord, help me to do the same.)
