Through The Glass Door

This post was originally published on February 2, 2013.
It is reprinted here in honor of mothers on this Mother’s Day.

 

A young mother spent the days at home with her small children.
Some days were simply delightful.
She played with them, read to them, and trained them.
Some days were difficult and exhausting when nothing seemed to go right.

Remnants of breakfast were on the floor under the high chair.
Jelly was stuck in the two year old’s hair.
As the sun shone through the glass storm door, she could see every hand print.
She could see every nose print and little forehead marks pressed upon the glass.

She knew each print and who put them there.
She sighed and felt like she would never catch up.
Just when she got a little bit ahead, a diaper needed to be changed.
The baby needed to be fed and a favorite toy needed to be found.

She finally sat down for a few minutes rest.
She looked through the smeary glass door at the house across the street.
Manicured lawn, freshly painted doors, and a newly black-topped driveway.
Clean windows!

The clean windows did it!
I bet she never has finger prints on her glass door.
I know her kitchen floor is immaculate, without a crumb.
She probably never gets behind in her work.

She didn’t even know her neighbor except when they waved from across the street.
She never made brownies when her neighbor moved in.
There was always something else that needed to be done.
She should invite her over one of these days.

She looked around her house.
She was trying to see it through her neighbor’s eyes and was embarrassed.
The beds were not made and the children were still in pajamas.
A knock came to the door.

It was her neighbor from across the street.
She had a piece of mail in her hand that got delivered to her house by accident.
Would you like to come in?
I would love to, the neighbor said in a friendly tone.

Her heart was racing.
She stepped on a plastic toy and hurt her foot.
She could feel the tears so close.
She could feel the knot in the back of her throat getting tighter.

The two year old had sticky jelly fingers and was grabbing for her neighbor’s hand.
There was a doll to be shown as the little one led the way.
She did not want to let go.
The jelly would make sure of that!

Her neighbor lovingly cuddled the doll, expertly burping the illusive gas bubble.
I’m sorry for the mess…it has been a busy morning, she said making excuses.
Can I make you some tea?
I would love some. Thank you, the neighbor answered.

Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. (1 Peter 4:9)

She watched her neighbor play with her child.
She put the baby on her hip and filled the tea kettle.
Her child took to her neighbor easily.
Her child talked in words that only she could understand.

If her neighbor didn’t understand toddler-speak, you never would have guessed.
An expert with children, too! she thought sarcastically.
The tea kettle whistled and jolted her out of her sour mood.
She poured the tea into mismatched mugs; one had a chip on the handle.

Nothing was freshly baked.
There were graham crackers and there was jelly.
They sat for a while in silence.
Finally, her neighbor spoke first.

I have wanted to invite you over; forgive me for not doing that.
I see you all the time through my glass door.
I watch you when you take a walk around the neighborhood.
I see how great you are with your children.

Thank you, she said quietly.
I should have had you over or made you brownies but there never seems…
To be enough time? The neighbor finished.
She shook her head in agreement.

The sun was shining right through the glass door.
In addition to the finger prints there were lines drawn by a sticky finger.
The lines went right down the glass door.
She got up, by impulse, and wiped the door with her napkin.

Oh, don’t do that. It’s lovely! I never have prints on my door.
I KNOW, she grumbled in her mind.
We never could have children; we always wanted them but we never could.
I would give anything for some hand prints on my glass door.

Do you want another cup of tea so we can talk and get to know each other better?

She poured the tea in the mug with the chip on the handle.
Fine porcelain never looked as good as this!