04-26-2010, 03:59 PM
<u><b>F A M I L Y</b></u>
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
âOh excuse me pleaseâ was my reply.
He said, âPlease excuse me too;
I wasnât watching for you.â
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said goodbye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
âMove out of the way,â I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didnât realize how harshly Iâd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
Godâs still small voice came to me and said,
âWhile dealing with a stranger,
common courtesy you use,
but the family you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
Youâll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes.â
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
âWake up, little one, wake up,â I said.
âAre these the flowers you picked for me?â
He smiled, âI found âem, out by the tree.
I picked âem because theyâre pretty like you.
I knew youâd like âem, especially the blue.â
I said, âSon, Iâm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldnât have yelled at you that way.â
He said, âOh, Mom, thatâs okay.
I love you anyway.â
I said, âSon, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue.â
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
âOh excuse me pleaseâ was my reply.
He said, âPlease excuse me too;
I wasnât watching for you.â
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said goodbye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
âMove out of the way,â I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didnât realize how harshly Iâd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
Godâs still small voice came to me and said,
âWhile dealing with a stranger,
common courtesy you use,
but the family you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
Youâll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes.â
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
âWake up, little one, wake up,â I said.
âAre these the flowers you picked for me?â
He smiled, âI found âem, out by the tree.
I picked âem because theyâre pretty like you.
I knew youâd like âem, especially the blue.â
I said, âSon, Iâm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldnât have yelled at you that way.â
He said, âOh, Mom, thatâs okay.
I love you anyway.â
I said, âSon, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue.â