I knew that Sam would be disappointed when I told him he'd left his Pokemon cards in his pants pocket, and I, not realizing they were there sent them through with the wash. I was tired that day. Weary from thankless mothering, worn from daily trials and cares. And so those silly cards, wet and near ruined pricked my nerves in such a way that I felt a reaction was necessary. Of course, I thought to blame Sam. An "I told you so" was bubbling to the surface - a scolding, a lecture about responsibility and the importance of caring for your things and a reminder that I wash clothes for seven people and I don't have time to check everyone's pockets and I don't want to worry about his things, and I, I, I...
(because that day all I thought of was me)
I showed Sam his cards and watched those brown eyes turn sad. I knew it was coming, the he blaming me that would set off my scolding and give him the talking to that he deserved. Instead, he turned to me for grace.
"Can you help me fix them?" he asked.
Still, I resisted. I wanted to say no - to throw them in the trash and get on with more important things in life. I wanted to shoo him and his soggy cards away like he was nothing more than a pesky insect buzzing around my Sunday afternoon picnic.
My, was my mother heart stony that day.
And then, another love loan - an intervention of divine proportions that softened my stony heart and helped me see. Not cards, or washing machines or lessons in responsibility, but Sam. He didn't need a lesson or lecture. (Ruined cards were lesson enough.) He didn't need scolding. He didn't need to be shooed away. He needed to be loved by his Mother and I needed to get over myself - think less of me, and more of what my actions teach my son.
And so, together, we pulled out the blow dryer. We carefully separated his cards and dried them, one by one. Then, heading upstairs, we turned on the iron, and together still, we pressed and ironed, ironed and pressed until each card, where once wrinkled wet, was smooth and dry and flat. By this time, my heart, far from stony now, felt nothing but gratitude for this little person in my life. And to think that at first, I couldn't be bothered. Oh, the joy I would have missed if that side of me had won.
