“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection”~ Gautama Buddha
James giggled, his finger in my back pocket, following me out of the kitchen.
“Stop!” I laughed. “That tickles!”
“Do you want me to take it out?”
I turned to him as he held up the refrigerator magnet he’d slipped in my pant’s pocket without me knowing it. I’d been away for most of the day and had been cleaning up the kitchen with him following behind me. I’d nearly tripped over him a few times, patted him on the head as he hugged my legs, and kissed him a few times when he told me he loved me.
I emptied the refrigerator and cabinets, wiping down shelves and throwing out what was no longer edible. I did an amazing job!
The day before I stood in the kitchen of the Quissett Harbor House after five hours of cleaning and reorganizing, by myself. I’d walked in and was quickly overwhelmed. Where to start? But I put my head down and began, erasing months of grime from everything that wasn’t nailed down, moving on to things that were once I was done.
Thankfully, the painter shared his music and repeatedly asked if I could hear it. We sang to ourselves when it was finally loud enough, passing time each in our own world.
“I’m amazing!” I yelled out as I looked at my work.
“Yes, you are,” said Bill. “And you have to tell yourself that because nobody else does!” We both laughed in agreement.
Yesterday pictures were taken of the next kitchen makeover I did to send to the client.
Then the picture-taker asked, “Do you want to keep working or do you want to go pal around?”
I thought about it and decided to go home. Perhaps it was the unseen magnetic pull, the remembering of the little ones waiting for me that won out?
I’d been cleaning and organizing my kitchen for 27 years. Nobody ever took pictures or said I was amazing. The thought of either had never crossed my mind.
Living is what I do.
Well is how I do it.
Every day is when, and I’ll continue ’til the day I die.
Yesterday it crossed my mind for the first time in forever that no matter what we do with our time, we’re amazing. And if nobody else says so, it’s not because they aren’t thinking it.
Yesterday, before dinner, James, Kenny and I ended up at the playground so that they could ride their bikes and hit some baseballs in the field. Kenny can really send it far, but James struggles holding the bat up long enough for a good swing.
“Watch, Mommy,” called Kenny as he readied for another hit. He pitched himself the ball and slammed it high and far.
“Wow, Kenny! That was amazing!” (Yes, I really used that word. I guess it was the word of the day?)
“And I’m really good at riding my bike!” peeped James.
“Yes, you are, James!” He beamed at the praise.
When we acknowledge those closest to us we do a remarkable service. But sometimes we save that praise for others. Sometimes people are too close for us to see who they are and what they need. Sometimes we stop caring or don’t know how to show that we care about what we mean to each other, or what we could mean to each other.
But we really are, you know.
Amazing, you know.
It feels really good to tell someone.
That you’re amazing. You. And me. All of us.
May that thought stick to you like a magnet – in your back pocket.
Go have fun. And tell someone they’re amazing. They just might love hearing that!
P.S. Just for fun, want to know what was on the magnet that James put in my pocket?
“Charity Never Faileth” ~ Charity, the pure love of Christ. Of course. I could have just said that!