An Excerpt
Empty Your Hands, Open Your Heart
"First thing when I got up, there she was," Becca began, "Savannah, my five-year-old journalist-to-be in her full
question mode. The interrogation started: 'Why are you putting on makeup? What is that pink stuff? How do you
learn to put contacts in your eyes?' I suppose I should try to explain things, but most of my answers sounded like variations
of the word because. My mind was on other matters; I had a busy day ahead of me.
"As she followed me to the kitchen, her prattle continued. 'Why do we have pancakes for breakfast? Angie's daddy makes
them too, but she doesn't live with him all the time. I wonder if she has pancakes at her mommy's house too? Since
I was concentrating on making breakfast and making plans for the day, I admit it: I met her often long-winded, meandering
comments with that two-syllable acknowledgement - 'mmm hmmmm' - that says, 'I know you're there, but I'm too busy to even
feign interest right now.'
"My little chatterbox was relatively quiet while she ate her pancakes, so I had a few minutes to return a phone call
and make a shopping list. Soon, though, her mouth was empty of food and open for business. She was chattering about
everything and anything - and I marveled that just a few short years ago, her vocabulary was limited to a handful of
words! As I went about my morning routine, it seemed that she was popping up around every corner. I was immersed in my
daily chores and granted her a few 'mmm hmmmms' along the way.
"I traipsed down to the kitchen to clean up, and there she was too, standing beside me as I washed the dishes and tidied the
kitchen. My mind was wandering, when I realized she was being pretty persistent about telling me something. I felt her
little hands tugging on my shirt as she intoned, over and over, 'Mommy, I want to tell you something. Mommy, listen. Mommy,
Mommy.' Finally, in a frustrated huff, which I know was not warranted, I threw down the sponge and knelt down in front of her.
In a tone a bit more clipped and a voice quite louder than intended, I looked her in the eye and demanded, "What?!'
"Not noticing - or perhaps not caring to notice - my short temper, my unflappable little one was breathless with excitement.
She exclaimed, 'Mommy, Mommy, I need to tell you something.'
"I couldn't decide if her delight stemmed from the urgency of her message or from my sudden interest, but it didn't matter
anyway. She stumbled over her words in her haste. 'Mommy, this is so exciting...' And as she screwed up her mouth to blurt out
her news, she unexpectedly stopped in midsentence, taking on a look of puzzlement and intrigue. She stared at me as though
she'd discovered the New World. 'Wow, Mommy, your eyes are really, really pretty blue!"
"My share hit me like a brick; how little eye-to-eye listening could I have been doing for her not to have noticed the color of
my eyes? I tell you, my blue eyes filled with tears as I hugged my little girl. I really do need to spend more time just listening."
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Hidden Messages