As you all know, I have many attributes such as being overly concerned about being on time, being overweight and unattractive, and having the tendency to curse like a sailor who is not only drunk but high on crack cocaine. In addition to these fine things, I am a worrier.
I don’t worry like most normal people worry. Like, “Hmm. I hope Eunice June is feeling better this week.” I’m the one is holding a prayer vigil for Eunice June. I am the one who is up late at night, so worried about Eunice June that I can’t even sleep. And when Eunice June turns out to be faking? I’m the one who gets hurt.
Not surprisingly, I am hurt by the fact that one of my Girl Scouts quit.
She quit because she said it was “boring” and she wasn’t interested anymore.
A huge part of me knows that there is nothing I can do. That she is a 10 year old girl and 10 year old girls have their own unique set of challenges. I know that she’s had a lot of problems, both at home and at school, problems which are probably deeper than I even realize or will let myself think about.
I know that I can’t fix her.
And that? Is what hurts me.
Because I’ve known her for a year now, and I see the huge amount of potential she has.
And I am ashamed that I couldn’t make her see it for herself.