Bigger Picture Moment: The Sweetness

Welcome to Bigger Picture Moments, a place where we step back and take in life. There are moments where we're so caught up in it all, the hectic mind boggling pace of the day. We encourage you to take this opportunity to take a moment and view the Bigger Picture. Whatever that means to you. A moment where you recognized the role your faith plays in your every day life. A moment where you take note of motherhood and the importance of what you are doing. A moment that made you stop and smell breathe in the bigness of it all. The hugeness that is life and the small moments adding up to one huge Bigger Picture.


We hope you'll join us. Take a few moments. Think about your week, and pour however little or much onto a page. Then share. Tell us your moment. Link up this week at Hyacynth's, grab our button, and share your Bigger Picture Moment. And while you're at it, share the love and check out at least one other participant's moment.


Next week Corinne will be hosting Bigger Picture Moments. Keep an open mind and heart throughout the week and come back to participate again or for the first time! All are welcome!

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Yesterday was difficult. 

I was hot and bored, lacking inspiration for anything to dig us out of a dull day.  And you know what happens on a dull day, right?  Arguments.  Lost tempers.  Irritations. 

The toddler needed more interaction and activity than I could muster, so she was into everything.  Whole tubs of toys -- overturned and abandoned.  Anything in her sister's hands -- stolen and run off with.  Half of her lunch -- tossed onto the floor.  A glass of water (my water) -- plunged into by her quick little fist.  Repeated time outs -- disregarded and giggled over. 

I was furious with her simple toddlerness as much as my inability to steer myself out of the bad day I'd created for us.  I didn't want to go outside, where my shirt would be soaked through in an instant from the almost 100 degree day.  I didn't want to slather on sunscreen for 10 minutes before enduring a whine-fest in the inflatable pool.  I didn't want to think creatively about places we could go or things we could do.  I just wanted the day to be nice, all on its own.

My voice grew hoarse from stern talking-to's.  I sat still in the hallway while the punished toddler sat, crying, in her room.  I breathed deeply and shook my head at my lost grip.

Mia, the 4-year-old psychologist, found me there.  "You should go get Lauren, you know.  She's been crying in there." 

"I will soon," I promised.  "I'm just too angry right now, and I don't want to yell at her, so she gets a time out until I'm ready."

"You need to calm. Your. Temper. Down." Mia scolded me.  But then her eyes lit up.  "Do you need help to calm down?" she asked. 

Smiling through sheer desperation, I nodded.  In her princess-mode, Mia danced closer to me.  Eyelashes fluttering, she bent down.  And with all the seriousness of a fairy-godmother bestowing magical powers upon an overworked heroine, she softly blew into my face.  Once.  Twice.  Three times. 

Cocking her head at me, she smiled.  "Better?"

I nodded, and she waltzed away, back to whatever pretend ball she'd been engrossed in. 

I wasn't as calm as I'd promised her I was, but I was more clear-headed.  She'd shown me something I forget about too often: the way I teach my kids to behave, matters.  The lessons I try to help them learn regarding attitudes, compassion, frustration, and whatever else, matter.  They are actually learning things from me. 

How many times have I helped Mia calm down from a temperamental fit by sitting still with her and blowing a gentle stream of air onto her hot little face?  How many times have I told her to 'calm your temper down?'  How often does she get in trouble for flying into a fit of rage, yelling and screaming instead of speaking her feelings outright?  I can't count.  These things have happened so many times in the past, I couldn't be sure what I was doing was even getting through to her.

But I must have been.  She saw me overreacting and beginning to throw a useless fit.  She saw my short temper, and she knew exactly what to do about it. 

My work has produced a tiny, sweet bit of fruit. 

Now, I just need to be sure my own bad attitude on these boring, hot days, doesn't dash that fruit to the ground before it has a chance to ripen and mature in my children.  I don't want to thwart their sweetness with my careless moments. 

I want to remember that their sweetness depends -- in some small measure -- on the lessons I will teach them, so I'd better teach them well.



Where did you see the bigger picture this week?  Head over to see Hyacynth at Undercover Mother for more Bigger Picture Moments, and to link up with your own!  (Hint: There just MIGHT be a nice little surprise for you if you DO link up!)  Next week, Corinne at Trains, Tutus, and Tea Time will be hosting.  See you there!