This
morning I promise myself to be patient and loving. I will not yell. I want a peaceful home. I will not yell. Two minutes pass, and chaos surrounds
me. Kids want this, and husband needs
that. I just smile.
I am armed
with ammunition of love. When faced with
challenges of lost shoes or siblings arguing, I say nothing. Instead, I give a heart. Shooting a heart may be more appropriate in a
house of boys, but there are enough projectiles flying around. On the heart is the message, whatever the
message needs to be. The recipient reads
it, thanks me kindly for the reminder, and we both move on. Tranquility…
Reality is
different. If I give my kids candy
hearts, they’d be on a sugar high. They’d
also learn quickly to misbehave so they could get candy. However,
this idea of candy hearts may not be all bad for me. It’d remind me to speak with love, to ensure
whatever I say is spoken to encourage or teach.
It could remind me to address just that issue and not drone on. Too often, I yell at those I love
dearly. I react instantly instead of
taking a moment to think. A message on a heart from me reminds me to
speak from the heart—with love and make that my reality.
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