Two teens on life’s fast track plus three little ones at home: that's a lot of fun and love at our house! Sometimes love shows up in unusual ways—even in a bottle of pink medicine.
Aah, that tasty liquid antibiotic -- it was often found in our refrigerator; and my boys considered it a treat they shared. Ya know, with identical twins . . . sometimes it was difficult to know which two-year-old was Michael and which one was Matthew. They did look so much alike. Their voices sounded similar, and mostly they loved to play the same things together. Hey, they even got ear infections together — always . . . on the same day!
Well, almost always . . .
Michael was saddened and a little confused as, one day after another, he noticed that this time his brother—but not he himself—was receiving from Mommy spoonfuls of that wonderful, smooth and tasty pink medicine. I tried explaining, but toddlers seem oblivious to medical reasoning. Michael did not understand that, this time, his ears were fine.
It was the fourth day of Matthew's infection. After lifting the twins—still in diapers and T-shirts—into their chairs side by side at the end of the table, I shuffled sleepily around the kitchen, preparing our morning oatmeal. The boys chattered cheerfully as I dispensed a dose of medicine and walked over to Matthew's chair.
"Here, Matthew," I coaxed, "drink your medicine." No response. "It's pink medicine, Matthew; you'll like it!" Silence prevailed. Bemused by his reluctance to respond, I continued offering the spoon until, at last, my son opened his mouth and obediently swallowed the pink medicine. "Good job, Matthew!" I said cheerfully . . . to which my young son smiled and sheepishly replied (pointing toward his brother), "Tha-a-a-t Matthew!"
Oh! Oops!
Matthew giggled playfully at Michael; he seemed pleased with the good fortune that had finally befallen his brother -- likely thinking (to whatever extent possible for a boy so young), “Finally! Mommy finally shared that pink medicine with Michael!” Michael's eyes beamed with pleasure. His was the face of one who had finally reconciled the previous days' discrepancies—and without apparent offense to anyone!
I smiled at my mistake and poured more medicine -- for Matthew, of course! -- and then, irresistibly drawn to those four precious little arms reaching toward me from their soft T-shirts, I gave both of my boys an extra big hug. Our laughter was sweet; we were content, for all of our needs had been met right there at the breakfast table that morning: good hot food, healing medicine, and a keen awareness that love and respect abounded among us.
That morning, Matthew expressed the greater joy of seeing someone else’s fulfilled desire more than his own. Michael displayed simple honesty—regardless of consequence (for although he didn’t understand why, he did know the medicine was meant for Matthew). As for me, the value of seeing life through the eyes of my children was renewed within. A child-like faith; a child-like love. Precious!
There, in our waking-up moments in the kitchen, we three witnessed and experienced lessons in love: it is people that matter most. More than being accurate; more than being right. More than feeling secure; and more, even, than being first in line.
Looking back on that breakfast of long ago, I contemplate Lessons from that Bottle of Pink Medicine. Waiting one’s turn, rejoicing with those who rejoice, always looking at life through others' eyes—these are things that bring sweet joy and contentment and respect. These are the things that did more for us that morning in the kitchen than a proper dose of pink medicine ever could!