A Wasted Opportunity... But Hopefully Also A Redeemed One.

When we left the house I thought “I should take a bag instead, it can’t spill that way… Naw! A basket is more fun, it'll be fine.”  We were picking blackberries to make a pie. It was supposed (in my mind) to be one of those carefree fun familyish times where everyone gets along and has a great time (btw, a good way to set yourself up for failure is to set up a perfect vision in your head, because real life isn’t very perfect and then when something goes wrong it’s all the more frustrating.) We picked and got pricked and poked, but it was worth it because we had a huge basket full of berries and we were going to make PIE baby! Cut to five minutes later and our beautiful berries are rolling back down the dirt road –bump- bump -bump and she’s looking up at me with her big eyes saying “It’s ok Mommy, we can just pick them up.. Right?” I can feel huffy me taking over. 

The worst part is I know it, that how this plays out rests directly on my shoulders. That I am holding a fragile moment in my hands, a teachable moment. True, there may be dozens of these moments in a day, but pieces of her heart -and mine- do hang in the balance. And I know it, except… Except Grrr! All that hard work! I berate her there in the middle of the lane “NO! It’s not all right! They’re ruined now. Great. We’ve stood out here in the hot, muggy sun and now blah blah blah.”

She’s so careless! So impulsive! Won’t she ever learn?

She’s apologizing, tears in her eyes, trying to scoop them up.

“Oh just forget it! Forget it all!” I continue to grumble, but we salvage some of the berries and pick some more, not as many as before, but enough. I huff home. She is hurt and dejected and I feel like crap because I know I was a royal *ahem* and that I shouldn’t have brought that silly basket that has to be held a certain way which just makes me more angry.

We get home. I go to the kitchen, she goes to the living room. She was going to help me make pie, she’d been excited too. She probably doesn’t want to be around me now and small wonder. It was supposed to be this fun thing and who ruined it? ME, that’s who.

I’m mixing stuff up for the pie when she comes in. “That looks pretty good after all… Right Mommy?” She’s looking up at me again with her 8 year old eyes as large and honest and blue as the sky. Sigh, yeah. “Listen honey, I need to tell you something. I –need to –apologize.” That word sticks a little. It's hard to own up, to look your worst you in the face, to admit there IS a worst you.

I remember my Dad apologizing to me once. He’d apparently been too hard on me about something. I don’t remember what it was. But I remember it clearly, him coming in to my room, lifting me out of bed (I was 5, 6?) apologizing from his heart, hugging me, and asking for forgiveness. It’s one of those early childhood memories that stands out like a flame. 
I grasp at it.

“Honey,” I take her face in my hands, “The way I treated you earlier was not at all nice. I said hurtful, untrue things. You did not deserve that. I was mad at myself for taking that basket when I knew it might not work very well and I blamed it on you! I reacted really meanly when I knew it was just an accident –exactly the way I always ask you NOT to react when your sisters make a mistake or do something you don’t like. I made a bad example of how we should not treat others and I am so sorry, can you please forgive me?” She does, of course she does, she is only too happy to and I don’t deserve such nice kids who shower me with hugs and kisses and love and grace and giggles and fill my life with beauty.

As I rinsed the berries several small pebbles washed out from the few we picked back off the ground, the largest one I will keep in my pocket as a reminder that my words and attitude can have an enormous effect and that a little gentleness goes a long way.

I made a mistake today, it would have been better if I had responded with graciousness and love in the first place to what was, in retrospect, just a simple small accident. I didn’t. But I did the next best thing, I made amends and I hope I modeled for my daughter the right track to take when we do blow it because we all do. She’ll mess up, her sisters will mess up, her Dad and I will. I hope and pray that she took away a positive lesson today, despite my mistakes. I know I did.

I often I tell my kids that we can’t control what others do, but we can be in charge of our responses.  I guess that’s true of life too, we may have a perfect plan laid out in our mind, but life can hand us anything, what’s important is how we choose to respond, it is that which will be the defining factor in our happiness and the happiness of those closest to us.

P.S. That pie, seasoned with sunshine and forgiveness, was delicious.