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Look carefully...at the seemingly small moments...in the constant shaping of souls.- Neal A.Maxwell

Inheritance

Walking home from a Memorial Day flag raising ceremony today my 8-year old stated that he was really going to miss his grandparents when they passed away.  He asked what happens to a person's things when they die.  I told him that some families argue over every little thing but other families will say, "I know this _______really matters to you, why don't you have it."  We agreed the second way was the way we wanted to be.  He then asked if there was anything that really mattered to me at my parents'.  My dad has a lemon wood and ivory chess set that I have loved since I was little, so I told my son, "Poppa's chess set."  My son was silent for a moment and then quietly said, "There's something that really matters to me at Nona and Poppa's - the way that I feel when I'm inside their house." 

I loved my grandparent's.  I loved the way I felt when I was inside their house.  I am grateful my children know that feeling - I hope their children will too.

Seeing red

About 3 years ago I was talking to a 4 year old boy.  He asked why my eye was broken.  He was referring to a small red vein that runs across my left eye.  I had not actually noticed the vein until that day and have not paid much attention to it since.

Today I was talking to a 4 year old.  He asked why my eye was cracked.  I told him that it wasn't cracked, it just had a red line in it.  I told him that another 4 year old boy had asked why my eye was broken.  This 4 year asked how my eye got broken.  I explained again that my eye was not broken or cracked it just had a red line in it.  He still looked concerned.  I told him the line did not hurt and that I could still see just fine - it just looked funny.  He patted my shoulder and said, "I like the red line.  It's pretty."  Four years old and a diplomat.

Mother's Day

My husband called me earlier this week worried because he was asked to be in Wisconsin early Monday morning which would mean leaving Oregon early Sunday afternoon – Mother’s Day.  I told him not to worry, book the flight.  He still seemed concerned so I relate this story:

 

My mother loves surprises.  My dad loves practicality.  The year I was 12 my father bought my mother a mug for Christmas.  He wrapped it by placing it in the center of a square of wrapping paper and shoving the corners into the mug.  One look and you knew what it was.  Us kids kept trying to get my mom to look at the gift to “guess” what it was.  She would laugh and tell us she wanted to wait until Christmas morning.  Christmas afternoon we went to Grandma C’s (mom’s mom).  Grandma asked what we had gotten for Christmas.  One of us kids started telling Grandma about the mug.  Mid-story Grandma excused herself and took my mother out of the room.  They returned shortly and we continued our visit.  That night I asked my mother why Grandma had taken her to another room.  Mom said that Grandma had given her $100 and told her to buy herself “a real Christmas”.  My mom said that she declined the money and told Grandma that the gifts of love, respect, kindness, patience and selfless service that my father gave my mother every day out-weighed any gift money could buy.

 

My mother gave me a lasting gift that Christmas – an understanding of what really matters.  Mother’s Day is a great day to honor the mothers in our lives, I’m grateful my husband recognizes that.  I’m even more grateful that he honors me the way my father honors my mother day in and day out.

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