A few days ago I was up really late, which is not all that unusual, especially since my hubby is on all nights this month. The longer I live with him the more we sync...it is weird! Anyway, I finally became too tired to see the needle on my sewing machine so I headed to bed. Before I made it down the hall I heard her cry. It was a real cry like the one when a child is really in distress. I thought I would be super Grammie and save Annabelle's parents from getting up, which didn't turn out so well for me:)
I was feeling so generous, so magnanimous in the bestowal of my sacrifice on behalf of my daughter.
Annabelle seemed to possibly have a tummy ache and so I began to sing and rock, and pat, and rock and sing and pat and cuddle.......and sing and rock...you get the picture. This went on for hours. I made the big mistake of thinking I could sleep in a twin bed with her tossing. and turning, and pounding the toddler rail with her feet.
I finally reached my limit, did the aggghghhgghggg sound,
and said in a stern voice
"Annabelle you have got to stop and go to sleep"
I wrapped the blanket tightly around her arms and flopped back down on the pillow. What happened next melted my heart. A tiny voice in the dark said
"Tank you Gwammie."
It was one of those moments when I was brought back to the reality that my comfort and convenience doesn't usually matter most.
This same scenerio happened two more or three times during the night and every time I did the frustrated agggghhghggggg and tucked her little arms too tight in the blanket she would sweetly say again
"Tank you Gwammie."
The more I have pondered on that night I am realizing the power of thank you. While her gratitude didn't instantly turn the night into a joyful one, it did teach me a powerful lesson. A simple thank you can melt hearts, mend hearts, soften hearts and bring joy to the hearts of those we love. I am grateful for innocence of children. We have been commanded to become as little children...
that night I was reminded why.