Kindness Begins with Me
I want to be kind to everyone
for that is right you see
so I say to myself
Kindness begins with me.
Okay, usually everyone would replace me with Bri--my 4th child--and then we'd have more fighting. But you know what "they" say, Family Home Evening is the only fight that begins and ends with a prayer.
Anywhoo, I've been thinking about being kind for the last 3 minutes because I was actually going to blog about L until I noticed everybody else's posts were on K and I thought, you people messed up big time. Then I sang the alphabet song. Slowly.
This screw-up probably would not have happened if:
a. I was a list maker
b. I didn't have 7 children
c. I had a perfect chiseled nose and deep, dreamy green eyes
d. I had learned more in kindergarten . . .
What I did learn in kindergarten was that our teacher did not think it was funny when we sang "Happy Birthday Ms. Jones. You sure have nice bones!" every single day. And that being the wake-up fairy just gave the boys a free peek up your skirt.
Yeah, I HAD to wear a dress to school every single day in kindergarten and we had nap-time (killer then, but would be bliss now) but hey, they gave us milk and cookies too.
However, I am not blogging about kindergarten even though it starts with a K. I was trying to talk about kindness here. And sometimes it is hard to be kind. Especially to small, whiny children, and senile adults, and rabid dogs, and delusional family members, and postal postal workers. But in the words of a famous song: Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.
Sometimes, it is especially hard to be nice to yourself. Just this week, I have had two women say unkind things about themselves. Okay, three if you count me.
Be kind even when others are not.
And while you're throwing all that sticky, sweet love and goodness around, be sure and throw some back at yourself.