Teach Them Kindness

My daughter’s Jeep got hit, but it can take it.

She was pulling into a parking lot with a car in front of us. There was plenty of parking, but the car in front decided to park at the same time as my daughter. They pulled into a space side by side. The stranger’s passenger door flung open before either car was fully parked.

It was a child in a hurry to exit.

Her car door hit my daughter’s Jeep.

My daughter was angry, but not because the Jeep was hit. It was because the little girl was in a hurry. This could have been more than a scratch.

The little girls face showed remorse and terror as soon as it happened, but the mother was a different story all together. She was prepared with anger, but I diffused with kindness.

“I didn’t even see you”, she said.

Were we hidden from view?

She had a car full of girls. Life is distracting.

It was an accident, but “I’m sorry”, was left unsaid.

This is what hurt my daughter the most.

The little girl thought we’d be mad, not sad.

The Jeep was made for this, but not the hearts.

Practicing+kindness+and+volunteering+as+a+family+teaches+our+children+so+much+about+the+world_

Make it Beautiful

When I walked into the house, she rapidly announced, “I made a mess.” I just looked at her, smiled, and followed her gaze to the hallway floor. It was covered in chalk.

blue red and yellow chalk
Photo by Viktoria Goda on Pexels.com

We have a large adhesive chalkboard on the pantry door. We use it to write down our schedules for one another. My daughter reached up to retrieve the box of chalk from above the pantry door, and it fell out of her hand crashing onto the tile floor. Tile is obviously more solid than chalk.

It was an accident. Pause Mama’s. Place a hold on your immediate reaction and wait for a response.

Some of our most magical moments began as a minor disaster.

Stepping over the mess, I walked into the bathroom. After washing my hands, I noticed one piece of chalk laying right inside the doorway. Squatting down, I grabbed the chalk, and wrote a note on the tile.

My daughter loved it and followed suit.

She wrote a note on the tile in the hallway.

My daughter could have cleaned up the mess before I returned home. She didn’t because she knew we would make something fun out of it, and was waiting to see my thoughts. When she moves on with her life, and has children of her own, I imagine her home with tile floors.

She will probably skip the chalk altogether, and allow her children to finger-paint the tile floor. She will teach them that an accident is really a beautiful mess in disguise.

When life gets messy. Make it beautiful.