Lesson from the Licks

Under a canopy of leaves and surrounded by wild animals—a giraffe, elephant, zebra, and monkey—high pitched screams filled our ears. Only a few feet from us a gaggle of young children gathered.
Seven Happy Meals beckoned. Small hands dipped into colorful bags for food and toys. For a few minutes, play was suspended. They giggled and ate while enjoying Emily’s fourth birthday party. Seated along the wall ten adults consumed other McDonalds’ specialties.
Hardly taking time to finish eating, eager children returned to the two story playground—running and yelling with glee.
Dessert brought them back. While adults savored hot fudge sundaes and McFlurries, the youngsters delighted in tall, swirled cones. I watched Ashlyn and Emily carefully eat their ice cream. Wayward drips were instantly wiped away. I was amazed at how neat and tidy they were.
Another surprise awaited me at a nearby table. Emily’s four year old friend and her toddler brother sat side by side. She held her cone and licked one side. Then she leaned toward him so he could lick the opposite side. Like a choreographed dance the cone moved rhythmically from one child to the other. Her licks were bigger and took a little longer. Anticipating the next bite, his tiny mouth opened wide like a bird waiting for a worm. His little tongue wagged wildly begging for another taste. No words were spoken, but the love between them touched my heart.
After a few minutes, his six year old sister handed him her entire cone. With increased joy, he licked and licked until she retrieved it.
Later Emily opened her birthday presents. But I had received an unexpected gift by watching the sweet sharing between a little boy and his sisters. If only adults could be so generous and kind, with no expectation of anything in return.

My Sanctuary

My colorful garden captivated me. The mirrored lake formed a perfect backdrop for charming blooms. My eyes jumped from white African iris, lavender lily of the Nile, purple showers, yellow canas, pink petunias, and yellow portulaca. Tiny white, purple and orange blooms nestled among greenery along the shore. My expanded herb garden with tasty leaves and pleasant fragrances made me smile.
Wildlife visited my sanctuary. A female cardinal broke the silence with her chip, chip, chip. Clutching the oak’s trunk, a bright green lizard scurried to the ground. A trio of mallards hit the water with a loud splash and slowly swam out of sight.
I longed to remain in my special haven. The cool morning and comforting tranquility protected me from the noise and stress of the real world. I could grab a book, sip another cup of tea, and remain isolated for the day.
It would be tempting to hover in the corner and ignore the world. Suddenly, reality joined me. Weeds crouched near my lovely flowers. A dead limb protruded from the pine tree. From across the lake, dogs bellowed. My tea turned cold. Noisy lawn mowers growled. Engines blared from the highway. Heat rose around me.
Even if I could stay all day, my sanctuary would not remain. What at first appeared to be perfect really wasn’t. However, my quiet time prepared me for the day ahead. From prayer, Bible reading, and daily devotionals I received comfort, strength, and peace to face the trials of the day.

Am I Really Sorry?

Snuggled together on Emily’s bed, Ashlyn, Emily, and I followed their bedtime routine of reading a couple of books, listening to a Bible story, singing three songs, and praying. After the second book, my scratchy throat made me cough so I told them that I would not be able to sing. That did not go over well at all. They informed me that they wanted the songs.

“I won’t be able to sing and read the Bible story because I am losing my voice. You need to decide which you want.”

Ashlyn took the Bible and said she would read it. I thought that would be a good solution, but I was wrong.

“No, I don’t want you to!!!” Emily cried as she jumped off the bed and ran from the room.

I looked at Ashlyn for an explanation, but she seemed stunned too.

Emily raced back into the room yelling, “I won’t listen!!”

I tried to explain to her that my throat hurt and Ashlyn was trying to be nice. She did not seem to care. Then she rushed to the bed and hit Ashlyn. I was shocked by her behavior since she did not usually do that. During this time, Ashlyn remained pretty quiet and did not retaliate.

“You should not hit your sister. What should you say to her?” I asked.

With anger in her little eyes, she replied, “Nothing.”

Ashlyn looked hurt that Emily did not want her to read, and Emily was mad that Ashlyn was going to read. What a dilemma. Quietly Ashlyn handed me the Bible and said I could read it. We decided that we would share the reading so I hoped that would solve our problem.

With a girl on each side of me, I began reading about Zacchaeus. After Jesus spoke to him, he realized his mistakes and said he was sorry. He told Jesus he would repay everyone four times what he had taken from them.

On the devotional page, the first question was Have you ever been sorry for something you have done?

Emily said quietly, “Like when I hit Ashlyn?”

“Yes, like when you hit Ashlyn,” I replied with a smile thinking she had learned her lesson.

“I am sorry, but I don’t want to tell her.”

I guess she only learned part of the lesson. Her pride would not allow her to tell Ashlyn that she was sorry even though Ashlyn was listening.

It is easy to behave like Emily and know we are sorry but refuse to say it. Sometimes a relationship is strained or broken because no one will utter the healing words I am sorry.

Fortunately, Ashlyn forgave her sister so they hugged and kissed good night. If only all stories could end that happily.

Eating Leaves

When my young granddaughters came for a visit, we took a tour of my small garden. Emily and I each picked a juicy cherry tomato. We popped them into our mouths and savored the juicy fruits. Ashlyn preferred to try some of my herbs. I plucked mint, anise, and stevia for her to munch. All of us enjoyed our treats.
Later Emily told her mom about our adventure. Her description made it seem quite different from what I saw. “Grandma had a tomato. I had a tomato. Ashlyn just had leaves.”
Immediately, I added that Ashlyn ate some of my herbs not just any kind of leaves. Her story was true but gave a different perception than what actually happened.
Word choice is so important in relationships. Various cultures, life experiences, and languages can cause confusion and unnecessary pain when people see things differently. It is easy to become angry, hurt, or dejected because of perceived slights, attacks, or hypocrisy. How important it is to choose words carefully. Many problems could be prevented if people would really communicate.

Mothers' Day Memories

I stared down at the tiny baby nestled in my arms. My life had changed forever. I was a mother.

Until I became a mother, I did not fully appreciate my own mom. Her years of mothering me rubbed off on me as I started my own journey.

When I unpacked my cedar chest recently, I discovered my bronzed baby shoes. The aged slippers attached to a wooden frame brought back numerous memories.

Memory fragments sprinkled through my mind. In the kitchen I munched on raw potato slices while my mother prepared our meals. Her delicious food included Sunday pot roasts surrounded by carrots and potatoes. Hearty meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans satisfied our hunger. All types of jello concoctions joined Velveeta cheese sandwiches slathered with mayonnaise. Homemade applesauce, strawberries, cakes, and cookies added to our enjoyment.

For years I ate with little thought to the work that went with it. Only when I was old enough to be of help—not always my choice—did I realize how difficult and time consuming it was. I saw little fun in opening pea pods, hulling strawberries, and weeding the garden. During canning time, the stifling kitchen with no air conditioning seemed unbearable. There was no option but to silk the corn, snap the beans, and peel the apples. To feed our growing family, she canned and later froze a variety of homegrown foods. Stores displayed few convenience items, and restaurant meals were a special treat. At Christmas our home was filled with delectable cookie, breads, and favorite candies. Our kitchen was a busy place.

Having children only eighteen months apart meant a mountain of cloth diapers that had to be washed and dried. Bottles were sterilized and little outfits ironed since wash and wear was unheard of at that time.

I remember living in nine houses in various localities. Some were short moves and a couple longer distances. Those moves meant packing and unpacking, making new friends, finding another church, and helping the rest of us adjust to our new homes.

After three children, she decided to start college. In spite of her family duties, she became a teacher after many years of classes and then earned a masters’ degree. Until I entered college, I did not understand the commitment that she needed to reach her goal.

Through each stage of my life, mother was available but not intrusive. She taught me how to be a mother, wife, and friend. I do not remember many of the words, but I do recall numerous examples. I have also tried to instill Christian values and beliefs into my children and grandchildren. I realize that they may not remember my words but I hope I am a good example.

I have had several years as a grandmother, many as a mother, and a host having a mother. I am thankful that she continues to be a part of my life. Happy Mothers’ Day to my mom. I also wish a wonderful Mothers' Day to moms, step moms, foster moms, and moms in love. Enjoy your day. You are changing the world.