I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh, excuse me please," was my reply.
He said, "Please excuse me too;
I just wasn't watching for you."
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way, and we said 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 son stood beside me, very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the family you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor;
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise;
You never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said.
"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."
I said, "Son, I'm sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Mom, that's okay.
I love you anyway."
I said, "Son, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."