A little boy playing around, rather exuberantly threw his coat at me, incurring the wrath of grandma and a forced apology to me.
Later that evening, he refused to talk to me, no longer wishing to be part of the bedtime story routine, sulking under his duvet, trying to push me out of the door.
But I didn’t accept it. I stood stedfast in my love for him. Refusing to entertain the hostility he seemed bent on giving me. I sat there, kneeled on the floor, asking him honestly if I had done anything to upset him and, if so, what I could do to make things better. I told him I loved him, that I forgave him, that I wanted him to be a part of our storytelling.
He wouldn’t come. Hunkered down in his bed, refusing to listen. I remained there patiently, choosing only to see his perfection, purity and innocence. Then, I decided we would go to him. We’d take the duvet off my bed and bring it into his room, sit on the floor and begin our story, giving him the option to be included, going right to where he was, instead of expecting him to come back to us. ‘Love meeting no response, but still remaining love.’ *
No sooner had we started the next chapter of Charlie in the Chocolate Factory, but off he came from his bunk, nestling beside his sisters to settle in for shared happiness and warmth, the love of family that excludes no one. A smiling face, shared laughter, harmony restored.
A lesson learnt. A heart chastened. Not his, but mine.
We go with love to meet hostility, no need to retreat in fear….and find that love is all that’s there. And always ever was.
( *Mary Baker Eddy)