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The scene: I was working diligently at the
computer in my home office when my 2½-year-old daughter, Willow,
approached my desk and grabbed a pile of 4x6-inch photos that I
had carelessly left within her reach. These pictures of our older
daughter and a friend had been sent to us by the friend's mother,
and replacing the pictures would have been inconvenient if not
impossible.
Given Willow's developmental stage — where
"looking" at the pictures might include folding,
ripping, and coloring them — I reacted from fear and stood up
from my desk to rescue the photos from the wild-child!
Sensing that I was about to thwart her will,
she quickly toddled to the other side of the house. When I caught
up to her, she realized she was cornered, and she half cowered
against the wall. She looked as if she half believed that her will
alone would stop me from using my superior size and strength to
remove the photos from her possession.
And maybe it did.
I stopped in my tracks and witnessed my
thoughts. Damn! I just want to get those pictures away from her so
I can get back to work. I don't have time for this!
Then I looked at her eyes. Fiery and defiant,
yet vulnerable and afraid. Something in me shifted and I really
saw her. I saw beyond her defiance to the beauty of her fire. And
I surrendered. Not to her will, but to the will of Life Itself,
which was and is so alive in her! My body relaxed, my mind came
unstuck, my heart opened, and a simple solution floated gently
into my awareness like thistledown on a breeze.
"Would you like to look at the pictures
with Daddy?"
She nodded slowly as the tension visibly
drained from her body and she willingly handed me the stack of
pictures. I kneeled down and she stood next to me while I flipped
through the pictures. She asked me "What's that?" about
fifty times, and I answered, fifty times.
At one point I noticed my beloved child's
soft hair snuggling against my shoulder as I spoke. I became
acutely aware that I would now be listening to her cry had I not
been graced by that shift in perspective.
In five minutes I was back at my desk. . . .
Five minutes!
Five minutes of surrender to Love averted
who-knows-how-many tears and who-knows-how-much loss of trust?
Those five minutes bought me a whole
afternoon of inner peace and a warm heart.
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