It's the Little Things, Really

I know I have said this before. So this will not come as a suprise. I am not the world's most patient person. I want to be. I desire to be. I wish I could be the kind of mother who never yelled at her children. I wish I could always think and be diplomatic and soft spoken. I wish, God sometimes I really wish, that I had never let a day go by with missed hugs and unspoken I love yous. No way, no way we could ever hug our kids too much or tell them we love them too much. I am so blessed and daily I take those blessings for granted. I am lucky that kids are naturally inclined to forgiveness, especially when it comes to their parents.


Last weekend, I was in a mood. Good grief, why won't the good Lord just strike me mute when I'm like that? I was snappy at every person in the house. Unfortunately for my entire dear family, they were stuck in the car with me for an hour drive to a birthday party. After fun and games and cake at the party, we all packed back into the van to begin the trek home. I was still in my mood. We decided to go out to eat. As we sat at the extra large table in the corner (because once you have over 3 kids, your family has to sit in the back or the corner, it's inevitable) waiting for our order to arrive, a small square piece of paper came flying across the way and landed on my arm. Some kid of mine had just THROWN something at me. I opened my mouth to object to this uncalled for rudeness, when I realized that there was something written on the square. In blue crayon, the folded paper read "To Mom" I unfolded the paper, which in it's previous life had served as a napkin and silver ware tab. It had risen to a place of most high honor in it's second life just because of what my sweet child had written on it. "Dear Mom, I love you. Love Harrison" was written as neatly as possible and as straight as my 6 year old son could manage.



He still loved me. I was mean. I was grumpy. I almost ruined the day. And yet he could overlook that. He could still write me a note telling me how he loved me. I looked across at him. His adorable face with his one dimpled cheek looking at me expectantly. I took off my napkin tab and wrote "Dear Harrison, I love you too. Love, Mom" Folded it. And lobbed it across the way. Then I thought, "What the hey.", and wrote one to my other kids as well. Thank you Harrison. Thank you for reminding me that my family loves me even when I'm not loveable. It reminds me that God is the same way. He too loves me when I'm not loveable. Thank you, Lord for these tiny reminders.