When I picked up the twins yesterday, one was soooo eager to tell on the other.
“Mommy, my brother did something bad today…”
I stopped him with a raised hand. “Tell me about your day and let him tell me about his,” I said. I could see the eagerness on his face to tell his sordid story. I could also tell he didn’t much like my insistence that he couldn’t tell it after all.
His brother came out talking loudly and quickly about the rain and the artwork he was carrying. “It’s gonna get wet mom!” he said with obvious worry in his tone. Of all the words that flowed from his lips, not a one was about whatever his twin was eager to tell.
“Can I tell you now?” Obviously one child was not ready to admit whatever he did (or he had forgotten) and the other was going crazy not being able to share. Finally, disregarding my order not to tell, the victim burst out “He hit me right in the heart!”
I imagined this meant that literally a punch had landed somewhere in the chest area. But then, when the culprit himself explained, I wasn’t so sure.
“Yes, I hit him in the heart,” he said.
“And I could feel my heart break in two pieces,” the victim replied.
“But then I apologized,” he said. “And when you apologize, the heart you broke goes back together.” I couldn’t help but smile under my mask at this. “Of course,” he continued, “A thin line remains on the heart reminding him of the break.”
“Yea!” chimes in the victim. “I can so feel that line still right here!” He pumped a thumb into his chest.
I still don’t know if one brother literally hit the other brother in the chest. I do, however, know that the heart has been repaired.
This thin line that remains where the break once was intrigues me though. I wonder if this were in fact true, how many lines would be running up and down and sideways on an adult heart? Each one telling the tale of an old wound, now mended (hopefully). And what about the breaks never repaired?
My prayer this morning is that we don’t literally or figuratively punch anyone in the heart today. But if we do, that we provide the honest words of apology that can seal the broken pieces back up again, even if a line is left behind.