The Littlest of These

He pulls off his sleep shirt, forgetting to remove his glasses, and slips another on. Going through the motions of another morning. His light brown hair brushes over the tops of his ears, in dire need of a trim. We brush teeth and comb hair and pull on socks and shoes, not in that order but each having its importance in the morning routine.

He's tired. I'm tired. Woefully lacking in sleep, I start another day. Pushing forward into this one while still dragging yesterday behind me. Drafting a plan of attack I already know will be revised ten times before it's scrapped altogether.

Lost in this race to live life quickly is a little boy. Waiting. To be guided. To be held. To be listened to. To be loved.

I can tell him I love him all I want. Calling it over my shoulder as I race off to whatever happens next.

It means nothing if I don't show it. Words ring hollow. Hugs on the way out the door smack of careless indifference.

I soothe myself by explaining that I do love him in action. I make his breakfast every morning. Warm and welcoming. I prepare and pack his lunch, sometimes with a short note on the napkin. Things he'll remember when he's older.

But what about the right now? I have to make this better. I have to give him something to hold onto. Something to say "Hey, you're still important." Something to make up for the brushing aside.

If nothing else, it is my profound duty as his parent to start his day off well. The world is waiting to tear him down. He needs to know, without question, that I am on his side. That I am cheering for him. That I will celebrate his victories, no matter how small. That I love him without qualification.

This morning as I walked him into school I witnessed a father berating his son in hushed tones. I have no idea what was said, but the look on his pudgy red face and the vacant look on his boy's face told me that this was not uncommon. He was holding his child, his CHILD, by the ears....his face only inches away....and the words spewing from his mouth did not convey love. Sometimes you don't have to hear the words to know what is being said.

My heart hurt for that little boy. I silently lifted him up to the God who IS love and asked for his day to be blessed with grace and for somebody to love him today. As much as I didn't want to, I prayed for the father as well because I know, without a doubt, that his disappointment and anger with his son is merely a reflection of how he sees himself.

Parenting is hard. But at the very least, the VERY LEAST, we must must must start our kids' days off with love. I have scarred myself with guilt over my own words of unkindness to my child. And everyday I have to ask for help from my heavenly Father. Help...and forgiveness. Freely given. Gratefully accepted.

Speak with kindness to your children. They're going to choose our nursing homes, you know.