The other night my daughter, Em, woke up at 2am and crawled onto the couch by our bed. She then proceeded to cry because she wanted her stuffed horse.
Having just fallen asleep at 1am due to not feeling good, I barked and told her if she wanted it, she should grab it herself. Otherwise, she needed to go.to.sleep.
As tears flowed down her cheek, she started down the dark stairs, quietly sobbing "I'm so scared".
Gosh near broke my heart.
I followed her and turned on the light, waiting at the top of the stairs for her to return with her favorite bedtime buddy. As I was waiting for her, I thought to myself, if a friend of mine was staying the night, and asked me to grab her something during the hours of the dead, I think I would have. And I would have done it cheerfully.
And then my heart gosh near broke, again.
Why would I be nice to someone who I don't see everyday, yet get mad and frustrated with the ones in my life that I love the ABSOLUTE MOST.
You bet I snuggled her close that night.
And then, by amazing, sheer coincidence, my mom sent me this story the next day:
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I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
'Oh excuse me please' was my reply.
He said, 'Please excuse me too;
I wasn't watching for you.'
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said goodbye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking an evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
'Move out of the way,' I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
'While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the family you love, you seem to abuse.
Go look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door...
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
You never saw the tears that filled his little eyes.'
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
'Wake up, little one, wake up,' I said.
'Are these the flowers you picked for me?'
He smiled, 'I found 'em, out by the tree.
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue.'
I said, 'Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way.'
He said, 'Oh, Mom, that's okay.
I love you anyway.'
I said, 'Son I love you too,
And I do like the flowers, especially the blue.'
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Let's make a goal to hug more, and get frustrated less. . .