“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view — until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” – To Kill a Mockingbird – Atticus Finch
I am letting these words soak in, fully saturating each and every dusty corner of my mind. Trying to somehow ensure my entire being understands its meaning.
How often do I judge, allowing harsh opinions to escape my lips? I claim to walk in grace, in understanding, in love.
The librarian sharply scolds my sweet girl for unknowingly doing something wrong–leaning on the forbidden dividing rope. She brings my dear girl to sobs of humiliation. She is an old and evil lady, and I am fuming as only a mom can.
I stop. What if she just found out she has cancer? What if her own grown daughter is no more? I do not know. I am completely unaware of her story, her hardships. Perhaps she really is just a grumpy old lady who has no problem with scaring sweet children. But, what if there is something more? Who I am to judge?
I am trying to remember this, forever remember this, each day. Before I jump to conclusions, yell out my rants, condemn and crucify, may I first remember I have never walked in anyone’s skin but my own.