Nothing in life prepares a parent for the heartbreak we experience when our kids are hurting or making life choices we fear will hurt them.

Whether you’re dealing with a sick child, or comforting one through death, divorce, boyfriend/girlfriend break-ups, friendship upheavals or any number of life issues they’re facing–chances are, you’re feeling it right there along with them.

Today, however, I got to witness some of the beauty unfolding in a few simultaneous disappointing situations that all ironically intertwined today, and turned out at least *okay*, in the end.

Quick backstory: Last week my 14 year old daughter *Lily (name changed for privacy) had unwound (so we thought) a messy situation involving friendships. Someone had mentioned that she was hosting a birthday party sleepover, and *Evelyn (name changed for privacy), one of the girls she is friends who hadn’t been included, was hurt.  Lily felt terrible. She had talked with her, shared how she hadn’t known if she’d feel comfortable and welcomed her to come. Lily then explained to my husband and me how she feared that since Evelyn doesn’t normally hang with the others, the dynamics of everyone else would’ve felt stilted. She had been trying to consider everyone’s feelings–but thinking in terms of fear instead of love, she realized that her efforts had failed.  Still, Evelyn had been gracious enough to thank her and accept her apology, then sent her regrets that she would not be coming to the party.

Fast forward to today: School Spelling Bee. Lily was one of six chosen from her class to participate, as was Evelyn. Lily had worked hard preparing for this event– studying, practicing, developing confidence in her abilities until–the morning of–she handed me the list of words, and I asked, “which ones do you want to work on?” And she quickly answered: “Ask me anything.” She was prepared, and more than ready to succeed.  Hoping to be the champion speller this year since this is her last year in junior high–she shared with me that it’d be a great way to leave with a bang. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Evelyn, if not each of the other students in her grade, had felt similarly.

Instead, with her very first word: “Proud,” Lily folded under pressure, spelling it: “P-R-U-D,” immediately realizing her foible, face reddening as I sensed she almost immediately began feeling every negative emotion one can imagine. Her head hung low as she walked to where I sat on the bleachers for support. She sat next to me, and we spent the next couple hours in silence, with her blinking back tears, following my initial hug and a quick futile words of comfort. My heart ached for her in her disappointment, and I began thinking of how to console her afterwards.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was going strong. Tending toward shyness and self-consciousness, this friend of hers quietly and hesitantly spelled each word given, and ended up as one of the final six contestants. It was the first time in three years, her mother had later shared with me, that she *hadn’t* choked under the pressure. I had noticed her mom sitting two rows ahead of me, and so I said “hello” after it was over. Sweetly as always, she greeted me. After the initial chit-chat about the Spelling Bee, I immediately apologized for what had occurred the week prior. I added, “I hope Evelyn understood.” She looked directly at me. Her eyes glistened a bit with tears she held back as she forced a smile and nodded her head, obviously recalling the situation, and answered without skipping a beat, “She was heartbroken.” She quickly looked away to regain composure.

My face dropped, as did my heart. I had wanted to believe that Evelyn’s initial words were true, that she truly had been okay once she and Lily had talked. But in retrospect, I realized, of course she wasn’t. I had merely disillusioned myself with that mindset. Her mother confirmed this by saying, “Evelyn is the type of person who felt that there was a cutoff…..and that she hadn’t made the cut.”

With my heart already heavy for my own daughter, I was heartsick knowing firsthand the pain of feeling left out, and horrified that I had caused this for another human being. I sincerely shared with Evelyn’s mom my regret, admitting that I had handled the situation poorly.

Evelyn’s mom was quick to reply: “It’s okay. It’ll work out. But I truly appreciate you reaching out– that means a lot.” And despite her own pain, she offered me a warm smile.

At that moment, I glanced over at the students–all lingering in the gymnasium, waiting for the after-school announcements prior to dismissal. I noticed Lily standing and talking with Evelyn. Lily later told me that she was congratulating Evelyn for how well she had done in the Spelling Bee.  She, too, despite having wanted to win more than anything, or at least get to where Evelyn had gotten in this competition, recognized that loving others is far greater than merely considering ourselves, no matter how badly we’re feeling in the moment.

Yeah, life is full of heartbreak. Big ones, small ones, ones that will fade, ones that will take years for us to process. Granted, this little anecdote I share today was mild in comparison to some of the heartbreaks out there, some which I too am sorting through in my own life even as I write this. But regardless, perhaps the key to some of our healing lies in our ability to look past ourselves and our own little worlds and offer just a little bit of love–from those broken pieces that remain–to one another.