Hard Heart, Soft Heart

“Look, we got a package!” 6-year-old Jackson said, slamming the kitchen door.

“I think Grammy sent us something,” Mother said, looking at the address.

“What is it?” Jackson asked. “Can I open it?”

“You opened it last time!” Tasha argued.

“No one will open it right now,” Mother decided, putting it on the counter. “We’ll save it for after lunch.”

“Besides, I’m cutting carrots,” Tasha said importantly, turning to the chopping board. She was eight and felt very grown up because she was allowed to use a sharp knife.

“It won’t be long until lunch,” Mother added, as she stirred a pot on the stove.

Jackson disappeared, and a moment later a loud wail came from the other room.

“Jackson!” Mother called, “Leave Oliver to play by himself right now.”

“But he had my truck!” Jackson said with a frown.

“He won’t hurt it, will he?” Mother asked. “Why don’t you help us make soup?”

Jackson put his truck on the kitchen table. “I want to cut something,” he said.

“You’re too little,” Tasha said.

“I’m not!”

“There are potatoes to scrub in the sink,” Mother suggested. “If you are very careful, you can help peel them, too.”

“Mother, Jackson ate one of the carrots I cut!” Tasha complained.

“I’m hungry,” Jackson grumbled, pushing his chair over to the sink.

“I don’t mind if you have a carrot, but it would be better to ask first,” Mother reminded him.

“But we need all the carrots for the soup,” Tasha said stubbornly.

“Tasha dear,” Mother said, “are you being kind? Remember how you wanted to use my art pens this morning? Would you have liked it if I said, ‘No, you are too little—you might break them’?”

Tasha didn’t answer. Chop, chop, chop went her knife. “Here’s a carrot for you,” she said at last, handing her brother a piece. “It was too hard for me to cut anyway,” she added.

“Thanks,” Jackson said, crunching into it happily. “Doesn’t my potato look good, Mama?”

“Very nice!” Mother said, stopping by the sink. “If you hold the peeler like this, it will be even easier.”

“I want to help!” Oliver said, coming into the room.

“I don’t think—” began Tasha.

“How about carrying the potatoes to your sister?” suggested Mother.

“This one is all ready!” added Jackson, handing his little brother a shiny potato.

“I like to hear you speak kindly to one another,” Mother said with a smile. “Can anyone remember our memory verse about being kind?”

“ ‘Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another,’ ” Tasha said, “ ‘even as God for Christ’s sake has forgiven you.’ Ephesians 4:32.”

“That’s right,” Mother said. “What do you think ‘tenderhearted’ means, Jackson?”

Jackson looked at his sister. “Being nice?” he suggested.

“Let’s think about the word tender,” Mother said, poking a fork into the soup pot. “How do we know when the vegetables are done, Tasha?”

“When they are soft when you poke them,” Tasha said, importantly.

“That’s right,” Mother agreed. “And that’s how God wants us to be toward one another. When others are ‘pokey’ toward us, we shouldn’t argue or fight back, should we? That is the hard-hearted way to act. What is the soft-hearted way?”

“To be kind anyway,” Tasha said slowly. Then she smiled. “Like when I gave Jackson a carrot!”

“That’s right. But it isn’t easy to be tenderhearted toward others,” Mother said, as she dished out bowls of soup. “Especially when they do things we don’t like. Who do you think can help us have a tender heart?”

“Jesus!” Jackson said.

“What do you think Jesus did when his little brother or sister took his toys?” Mother asked.

“He shared them,” Jackson said. Then he looked at Oliver and the truck on the table. “You can play with it,” he offered to his little brother. Oliver reached for it eagerly.

“And while Tasha makes the toast, you can help me set the spoons and plates around,” Mother told Jackson. “It is time to eat!”

“After lunch you can open the package,” Tasha whispered in Jackson’s ear, as they sat down at the table.

And do you know what was inside? A bag of red play dough!

“What a nice gift!” Mother said. “Grammy must have remembered that your old play dough had all dried out.”

“It was all hard and crumbly,” Tasha added. She pinched off a piece of play dough and rolled it between her hands. “I like this one much better!”

“I like it!” Oliver said, patting his piece excitedly.

“It’s really soft,” Jackson added, poking his finger through the middle of his lump. “See?”

“Yes,” Mother agreed. “It’s nice and soft, just like God wants our hearts to be. When we are tenderhearted, then He can make our lives beautiful!”

“I’m going to make my play dough into a heart,” Tasha decided, running to get the cookie cutters. “Won’t that be pretty?”

“Yes, indeed,” Mother said with a smile.