We had a rough morning last week.
In a line that felt like it would go on for eternity, you counted floor tiles, jumping from foot to foot.
“See me, Mommy?”
Of course I saw you…
Four steps forward, turn, and back to me and Matthew.
Just as you grew weary of this game, another mother and her little girl got in line behind us.
Your face lit up to see a potential friend. You retreated to me, pulled me to your level, and asked if you could say hi.
“Of course you can,” I encouraged, incredibly proud of your newfound confidence.
You approached her slowly, one floor tile, two.
With your most courageous voice, you whispered, “Hi, my name is Katie, what’s yours?”
And in an instant, her mother blocked you…”We don’t shake hands” she blurted.
You backed away, one floor tile, two.
The little girl hid behind her mother and you behind yours.
Tears pooling in your eyes, you asked, “What did I do wrong, Mommy?”
I bent down, held you close so only you could hear my words.
“Not a thing, Katie, not a thing.”
And after our turn in line, we settled on a bench, and I explained it the best I could…
You know how Mommy wears glasses?
Now, I want you to imagine that we all wear glasses.
Glasses get smudges, a finger print here, a bit of dust there.
Those smudges are just temporary can be cleaned away.
And those same glasses will get scratches, scratches can’t be cleaned away with soap and water, but they make us who we are.
But those smudges? It’s so important to clean those.
Those smudges are hurts, assumptions, judgements that accumulate over time.
That mommy’s glasses are dirty and she just needs a reminder to clean them.
Because those smudges prevent her from seeing the beautiful things around her…from seeing a little girl with an outstretched hand and an eager smile.
Promise me that you’ll always clear away those smudges, Katie.
I want you to see people clearly…I don’t want smudges that accumulate over time to obscure your view.
I want you to reach for another hand.
Ever so proud of you,