Sticks Are Precious

Delta loves to collect most anything she sees on the ground. It was no surprise when she adopted a spindly, ho-hum stick at the park the other day. Once she latched on, she gingerly carried it with her all around the park and lovingly placed it alongside her car seat for the ride home. Like many of the items she collects, however, she quickly forgot about it as the excitement of arriving home consumed her. I had forgotten, too.

Fast forward one day...Beta stumbled upon the stick in the car seat as we were leaving for school. "Hey, Mom? Can I throw this stick out?" I didn't bother to turn around and look...it was a stick. "Sure," I replied, not thinking about the previous day's adventure. "NOOOOOOO!" screamed Delta. Oops! I instantly remembered her connection with the little lifeless length of wood. "Oh, I'm sorry, Delta! Beta, can you grab it?" Without a moment's hesitation, Charlie blurted out, "Sticks are NOT precious!"

Knowing that Delta's feelings would likely be hurt by Charlie's indifference to what WAS a precious stick, I tried to explain that we each place a different value on the things around us. Obviously, this stick meant more to Delta than to Charlie, but Charlie wasn't buying it. Then Beta, being the more mature bigger sister, tried to break it down. "Charlie, do you like hearts?" "Yes," replied Charlie. "Well, some people don't like hearts." Again, Charlie wasn't buying it. No connection with the "unprecious" stick, and especially no buying that some people don't like hearts. (Oh, to be five again and believe you are the Sun and everyone else a planet, rotating around you.)

Like Charlie, I sometimes find myself being annoyed by what appear to be trivial issues or things, at least to me. But then I remind myself that these circumstances or objects just might be the sticks of those around me, and sticks ARE precious!