Tripped in the Mud

Last week Jennifer's school called. I wasn't home so we all played telephone tag. Paul finally called me (Nathaniel and I were at a friends house for a play date) and informed me that Jennifer needed a change of clothes because she had fallen in the mud. I was not happy because I was inconvenienced by all of this. She had done this before, she has terrible balance. My friend actually had some clothes she was getting rid of ( one of the reasons for my visit) and they would fit Jennifer, even shoes. I left Nathaniel to play and I quickly drove to the school, to rescue my princess. Jennifer was waiting in the Nurses office, her shoes were outside the door covered in mud. Her pants were bad but her shirt was only a little splattered. She changed clothes, seemed very happy and went to computer lab where the rest of her class was. I took her muddy stuff with me.
When Paul brought Jennifer home from school for the day, he asks me if I know that Jennifer was pushed into the mud? Well this was definitely news to me. Jennifer didn't mention it, the nurse didn't mention it, no one told me anything. I assumed she had fallen. What had happened, and why were we not told? We sat Jennifer down and asked for her to tell us all about what had happened during recess. She said she was not pushed but she was tripped, "by who," we asked. She had no idea who it was. She did tell both of her teachers. She said whoever did it got a pink slip. This is a bad thing that most kids try and avoid all year long. When you get a pink slip you get a visit with the guidance counselor, the principle or both.
Even though I was furious for not being properly informed, I was amazed and impressed with the way Jennifer handled it. She was not in tears when I got to her, even though she was covered in mud. She had let the proper authorities know what had happened. She told us what had happened as best as she could with what she saw and knew. She didn't blame anyone, if she wasn't sure who it was. She was OK with the whole thing.
Oh to be more like my precious daughter. When life knocks me down why don't I take it to my Savior? Why don't I tell Him what happened and let Him take care of it? Why do I want to get even and mean, complain and scream "it isn't fair"? I don't see the whole picture either and yet I am so sure that it is terribly unfair how I am treated. Satan is going to try and trip me, sometimes he will succeed. I need to take it to Jesus and let Him handle it. Get cleaned up and go on with what God has for me to do.
By the way she got a written apology the next day from the boy. God took care of her better than I could have. I would have hurt the kid, but that is another story.