Sunday, August 15, 2010
Gardening requires my "someday" eyes.
The children I raise need the same approach. One recent day I was particularly hurt that my teenager exploded in anger when his sister's sudden sickness prevented our trip to the amusement park. I was so upset with him. Where was his compassion?
Where, too, was mine?
I sought a quiet moment to reconcile my negative feelings. I came to understand my son's disappointment and his limited tools to express and control it. Even greater, a picture formed in the upper right corner of my mind. I saw him as a man, leaning beside his own daughter in the bathroom and stroking her hair out of the way. Blond, I think.
I saw my son for all the potential within him, and my heart swelled anew with the charge to get him there.