 |
| THE PAPER HEART Our voices rose along with the intensity of the argument. We exchanged words we didn't mean. We threw out issues that weren't relevant. we rehashed past grievances, forgiven but never forgotten. Neither of us had intended our simple discussion to accelerate into a heated argument. It was late, and both of us were tired. Too tired. Stephan and I had both endured a day-long parade of stress, tensions and mini crises. I'd found myself pulled in ten different directions all day: the children, laundry, groceries, writing deadlines, friends wanting advice, letters needing answers, the jangling telephone. I felt fragmented and weary beyond description. Stephan, too, had experienced an especially trying day, dealing with men and women whose lives were falling apart. After an hour of fighting traffic he arrived home to find children clamoring for his attention, a list of patients to call, and a stack of bills to be paid. All evening we had been living on the edge of a scream, trying to control our frayed nerves. Then a minor disagreement accelerated way out control. As our words heated the air, the door to our bedroom cracked open. Slowly. Quietly. A small hand reached though the opening and placed something on the door. Then just as quietly the hand retreated and the door closed. Curious, I got up to investigate. Taped to the door I found a small paper heart colored with red crayon and emblazoned with the words "I love Mom and Dad." Eight-year-old Anthony was doing his part to try to make peace. Suddenly I remembered the verse, "A little child shall lead them." (Isaiah 11:6). Shame-filled tears trickled down my face. Stephan and I looked at each other, both sorry for the way we had allowed our over-taxed emotions to control us and to upset our home... I can't even remember what Stephan and I were arguing about when little Anthony placed his paper heart on our bedroom door. But we have left it there as a reminder Gigi Graham Tochividjian, Currents of the Heart |