Know how the morning starts off rough - on a Sunday, while you are trying to round everyone up to make it to Mass on time. By the time you get there you have a minute to spare (or perhaps are a teensy bit late). And how out of breath you are from carrying a 30 lb toddler into church while 31 weeks pregnant. And throughout Mass you have continuous distractions from your children. One thinks that you are mad at him because all you want to do is pay attention to the Mass itself. One whispers on and off, faces the back of the church and eventually ends up under a pew. And the youngest one whips off her shoes and tights, knocks out all the books and goes from sweetly cuddling to getting that look that you just know will end up in a loud, "No!" You are lucky to catch 1/3 of the Mass, worry about distracting others, and are still out of breath? All this time you wonder whose kids these are? That they have acted so much better in church previously. What is going on?
Know where I'm coming from?
Finally, Mass ends, just when you think you cannot stand another minute of trying to corral your children. And then an amazing thing happens. The woman behind you tells you how wonderfully behaved your children were, how quiet, and how much she loves that you are taking the kids to Mass when so many leave little ones at home.
I could have told her that my children can behave so much better than that. That it actually was a difficult morning. Instead, I smiled and said thank you, that I very much appreciated hearing that this morning.
Most times, it is just the little things, isn't it?