We've been working on this thing where we actually make an effort to think before we talk and try to weigh our words and decide if they are the right things to say for the moment.
We've also been working on our actions...same principal.
My kids win most days.
I'm a work in progress.
We're about three weeks into back to school and lunchbox drama.
My middle son has submitted to his first hunger strike on sandwiches.
They prefer sushi and hot food. I'm trying to score a thermos at a good price and honestly we've just been going nonstop...so we've all been eating smoked turkey sandwiches or variations thereof constantly.
So the other morning I opened his lunch bag and there was a yet another sandwich left from the day before.
I yelled called his name.
He came. I apologized for yelling. Regrouped on the principals in practice.
Why don't you eat your lunches?
They're not gross!
Yes they are the same thing everyday but you're wasting bro!!
I remembered I should give him a chance to speak before I went into chapter two of whatever I was rambling.
He looked at me and smiled.
"I don't really know how to say this Mom...but you need to be more creative!"
I honestly went to bed last night thinking about chocolate cake.
It didn't consume me but I was hoping
to cross paths with a piece some time today...it's not my favourite thing but definitely a good and necessary thing...
When I woke up this morning it kind of dawned on me that after making lunches and taking the bus into work the cake wasn't going to happen.
There are some comparable counterfeits in the food court at my job- but I decided not to settle today...so cake would come this weekend?
The lunch I packed was strange...crackers, cookies, a banana, a cup of grapefruit and I tied it up in a plastic bag (I never tie my lunch bags for the record...)
I made my bus, squeezed on to my train (sweating the entire time...poor warm planet), exited the station and then began my walk into my office.
There is a little tunnel near the place that I work and on some mornings you can find makeshift sleeping mats, puddles of unmentionables and the remnants of fine drink that were experienced the night before.
It's not in the heart of Toronto. It's not even in a big business or residential area it's just a pocket in Scarborough, with a station and a field and a few dry places to catch a nap that some people kind of call home.
I never see who sleeps here, but today in the tunnel he was there with his bike.
Fast asleep...I'm sure I'd rather sleep in the daylight hours too and spend the night roused if the street was my safe place.
If I said he was sleeping like a baby I would not be lying.
He had a hat in front of him with twenty five cents placed on top of it...two dimes and one nickel.
Everyone from my train passed him, some without even a glance...I won't lie...I did...I got about 10 meters away and I felt like going back.
My experience with assuming someone is in need in the city and trying to extend a hand in the past has sometimes been a sour one.
I felt it again...go back and give him the "lunch".
Don't get me wrong I give...and I have given...but I don't like to assume and hate when people make assumptions about me based on what they see.
I didn't want to offend him maybe.
I didn't want him to reject what I had to offer?
I got over it.
I made a "180" and walked up to where he was sleeping.
My first thought was to pull the lunch bag out of my bag and leave it in front of him so he would find it when he woke up...then I reasoned mostly out of past experience...if he wakes up looks in the bag and doesn't like what he sees and throws my kids snacks in the trash...I am going to be straight upset...
So I got to where he was and...
"Sorry to wake you up!"
"I know it's early but excuse me...."
If my voice was deeper I may have scared the crap out of him...(I'm working on my lady tones...please kind of pardon the expression)
But he woke up...coincidentally just like my son...I saw the face of my middle boy for a moment and quickly realized we were probably around the same age.
He had the deer in the headlight look my Myles has at 7 a.m.
So I smiled.
"I'm really sorry for waking you up...was just passing by and was wondering if you wanted some breakfast...I have some cookies, crackers, some grapefruit and a banana?"
Half asleep and relatively pleased, part way lying on his back,
"It's yours!" and I began to walk away.
He didn't say thank you...he said "God Bless You!" I turned around and caught his eye for a second and I said "You're welcome!" and continued my walk into work...my heart followed five steps behind.
I received the words he said to me.
It is the blessing of the Lord that makes rich, And He adds no sorrow to it. Proverbs 10:22