Life's Lessons in Action

There are times in life that I can look back and remember a very distinct moment where a very valuable lesson was learned. Other times, I believe lessons are learned gradually with the help of mistakes and age. This week two opportunities to came up for me to put into practice one lesson I learned from my mother in one instant many years ago.

When I was in my early teenage years, I was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter talking on the phone. I leaned back and knocked one of my mother's wedding glasses off of a shelf on the wall. They were the glasses her and my dad gave their first toast with, crystal, probably one-of-a-kind from Ireland or something like that. I knew they were special to her because they were arranged on a shelf in front of a picture of her and my dad, arms entwined, drinking champagne on their wedding day (it might have been sparkling cider since neither of  them were of age ;) The picture was a pencil drawing of my dad's.

When the glass fell and shattered, my heart sank. I felt horrible about doing it and feared the wrath of my mother. She was present when it happened and as soon as our eyes met, she said, "It's okay." Two simple words spoken over twenty years ago that have changed the way I deal with similar situations now. I tried to tell her how sorry I was and that I knew the glass was special to her and so on and so on. But she said this, "It's only a thing, don't worry about it." Her calm attitude left such an impression, that for someone who admittedly doesn't have a great memory, I can remember that moment like it was yesterday.

This week, in my household, I discovered two things that were meaningful to me, broken. In my last post, I mentioned how I am not a very sentimental person and I don't have many things that I consider precious to me. Well, I guess I did have a few things. One was my wooden St. Francis statue that we picked up in Assisi on our honeymoon, and another was an oval wooden box that locked/unlocked in a secret way. I got the box from the original carver when spending two weeks in New Mexico while on a fire assignment with the Department of Natural Resources. The things themselves weren't valuable, but the memories attached were priceless.

St. Francis, (almost) as good as new.

While dusting, St. Francis' head fell off because it had been balanced there mysteriously well like I'd never notice it. Samuel was standing nearby and he heard the disappointment in my voice upon the discovery. I felt his guilt like sticky humidity on a hot August day. My first instinct was to separately interrogate each child until the guilty party tearfully announced his shame and begged my forgiveness on hands and knees. But that memory of my own mother sprang instantly to mind. I put it aside and figured I could glue it back together.

Today, while cleaning the girls room, I discovered the box, also put nicely back together as though I'd never discover it (my kids must think I am quite the idiot). I did announce my disappointment and instantly Benjamin announced his guilt (kudos to him for his honesty). It was harder to bite my tongue this time, since it was the second time in two days, but I managed. (By the way, Ben's excuse was..."Well I couldn't open it!", I wanted to smack my head on a wall).

My dad always told me that if something can be destroyed, kids will find a way to do it. He was right. But my mom taught me that people are more precious than any worldly possession and the words we choose to use can make a difference in the lives of others. She was right too.

Side Note: The move I mentioned in my last post....it's going to happen, wish us luck :)