Sisterly Love

Friday was the school spelling bee.  Each class had held a spelling bee within its own classroom and sent three representatives (1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners) to the school wide competition.  One was one of the representatives from her classroom.  

I was a volunteer at the spelling bee which meant I couldn't be anywhere near my daughter:)  After I took her picture (which I will add to this post someday when I have time to upload my phone pics to the computer), I took my place in front of the stage.  To begin, they have the kids use a dry erase board and they all write the word.  If they get it right, they stay.  If they get it wrong, they are dismissed.  This is a quick way to eliminate quite a few kids and get to the nitty gritty.

The first word given was 'etching.'

Out of the six kids I was supervising (making sure they weren't cheating and checking their spelling), only two of them spelled the word right.  I felt so bad for the four who didn't.  I glanced over to where One was sitting so that I could flash her a little smile of encouragement, but to my surprise, she had come down from her spot and was exiting.  Because of where I was standing, every kid had to pass by me.  As she passed me I could tell that she was very upset, about to cry.  She said, 'I spelled the wrong word.'  I felt so bad for her!  I did think it was a little funny that she had somehow spelled the wrong word.  I really wished that I could follow her off the floor and give her a hug and comfort her.  I really felt badly that I couldn't do anything for her.

The spelling bee continued several more rounds with the dry erase boards.  About 15 minutes later, the dry erase boards were no longer needed and the 'traditional' spelling bee began (where they have the kids come up one at a time, say the word, spell it, next kid goes).  I helped put away the markers and boards and erasers and hurried to find One.  She wasn't with her class (this didn't really surprise me), so I headed to the nearest bathroom.

When I entered the bathroom, I looked to the ground to find her shoes so that I knew which stall she was in.  And the most beautiful thing ever happened.

In the very last stall I saw TWO pair of shoes.  One's and Two's.  Two had seen One get dismissed and could see that she was upset and that I was occupied.  She asked her teacher to be excused to the bathroom and went after her big sister to comfort her.  Another thing that I was impressed by was the fact that One was allowing Two to comfort her.  There was no 'leave me alone!' or 'get out of here!' that sometimes occurs with siblings.

I wanted to be with One.  I wanted to hug her and wipe her tears.  I wanted to encourage her and tell her I loved her and that I was proud of her efforts.  (I also wanted to find out what word she spelled instead of etching.)  However, I couldn't be there, but somebody else could.  My other daughter.  She saw her sister's need and without being told what to do, she filled that need.  

My heart felt so good.

Then I had one of those little epiphanies.

Heavenly Father and Jesus cannot physically be here with us on this earth.  I am here though.  We all are.  Will I see my sister's (or brother's) need?  Do I recognize my neighbor, grocery bagger, the kid at school, the random person at the store, the person I shared a pew with at church as my brother or sister?  Do I recognize, perceive, notice, allow myself to become aware of that person's need?  Will I fill that need?  Do I wait to be poked and prodded?  Do I need a personal invitation to assist?  Am I so wrapped up in my own busy life that it becomes too hard for me to excuse myself from the middle of the row in the middle of the gymnasium in the middle of the spelling bee assembly to help my sister?  

And, once again, the children teach their mother.