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Blue Flowers
I bumped into a stranger as he passed by.
“Oh, . . . excuse me, please,” was my reply.
He said, “Please excuse me too;
I wasn’t even watching for you.”
Oh, we were polite - this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said our good-bye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My daughter stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked her down.
“Move out of the way!” I said with a frown.
She walked away, her little heart broken.
I didn’t realize how harshly I’d spoken.
Later that night wide awake in my bed,
God’s still, small voice came to me and said,
“While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the children you love, you seem to abuse!
Look upon the kitchen floor,
You’ll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers she brought for you,
She picked them herself - pink, yellow and blue.
She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise,
And you never saw the tears in her eyes.”
By this time, I felt very small
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by her bed;
“Wake up, sweetheart,” I whispered and said.
“Are these the flowers you picked for me?”
She smiled, “I found ’em, out by the tree.
I picked ’em because they’re pretty like you.
I knew that you’d like them - especially the blue.”
I said, “Daughter, I’m sorry how I acted to you today;
I shouldn’t have yelled at you that way.”
She hugged me and said “Mommy, that’s okay.
You know I love you anyway.”
I said, “Daughter, I love you too!
And I do like the flowers - especially the blue.”
by Author Unknown
I bumped into a stranger as he passed by.
“Oh, . . . excuse me, please,” was my reply.
He said, “Please excuse me too;
I wasn’t even watching for you.”
Oh, we were polite - this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said our good-bye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My daughter stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked her down.
“Move out of the way!” I said with a frown.
She walked away, her little heart broken.
I didn’t realize how harshly I’d spoken.
Later that night wide awake in my bed,
God’s still, small voice came to me and said,
“While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the children you love, you seem to abuse!
Look upon the kitchen floor,
You’ll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers she brought for you,
She picked them herself - pink, yellow and blue.
She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise,
And you never saw the tears in her eyes.”
By this time, I felt very small
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by her bed;
“Wake up, sweetheart,” I whispered and said.
“Are these the flowers you picked for me?”
She smiled, “I found ’em, out by the tree.
I picked ’em because they’re pretty like you.
I knew that you’d like them - especially the blue.”
I said, “Daughter, I’m sorry how I acted to you today;
I shouldn’t have yelled at you that way.”
She hugged me and said “Mommy, that’s okay.
You know I love you anyway.”
I said, “Daughter, I love you too!
And I do like the flowers - especially the blue.”
by Author Unknown
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