A Welcome Greeting

Tuesday afternoon was runoff election day in Alabama.  Not that you would know it based on the number of voters who showed up.  But I felt compelled to vote in one of our local judicial races, so I came home from a day of travel to the glamorous Perry County and hauled the kids over to the Catholic church where we vote.  They were quite excited.

Due to the apathy of the voters, we had the place to ourselves, and the poll workers seemed genuinely glad to see us.  The older lady who gave me a ballot smiled, remarked how cute they all were (ignoring the trail of snot that constantly protrudes from their noses at this time of year), and then looked at me and said, "They are precious gifts from God.  Be sure to treat them as such.  That's what I always tell my daughter."  I smiled, thanked her, and herded my group over to the table so I could fill in the ballot.

I suppose I could have been annoyed by her bossiness, but I was grateful.  Usually, when I'm in public with my kids, people feel compelled to comment about how I have my hands full.  They're right, of course.  I DO have my hands full.  And they mean to be empathetic, I'm sure.  But really, they just feed my martyr complex about the whole ordeal of lugging around a 4, 3, and 2 year old.  The inconvenience of it all is highlighted.  I feel justified in my little frustrations and my short temper.  After all, I have my hands full.

But this lady was different.  Rather than looking at me as the one in need of empathy, she focused on my children.  And in doing so, she reminded me of how precious they are.  I was encouraged to love and care for them, rather than feel sorry for myself and easily annoyed.  This comment did much more for my joy and stamina than empathy ever could, and I walked out of the church refreshed.

I think that in the future I will refrain from empathy, hinting to a frazzled mother that she has all the reason in the world to be frustrated, and focus on the wonder of those little frazzle-inducers instead.