I’ve been wanting to write down this story for a while, and am just now getting around to it, so I’m sure it is totally paraphrased and those of you who were there might remember it different, but this is what I got out of it. At enrichment last year sometime, a lady came and was talking to us about getting our lives organized and prioritizing and all that. She told us a story about remembering what is most important, and this is what she told us: When she was little, her family was picking watermelons across the street from where she lived. She picked out a big watermelon, and was ready to carry it home. No one thought she should do it, saying she would drop it. Her dad believed in her and said she could do it. She was all proud of herself, carrying this large watermelon down the street and back to her house. She was just about home, when she dropped it. It broke all over the place. She looked back at her dad, expecting to be scolded. Instead, he sat down on the ground and hurriedly started to eat the watermelon, telling her, “Quick, let’s eat it before the others see it!” Her point was that sometimes things are just that, things. She said she always knew that her self-esteem was more important to her dad than things were. I know that I love my kids more than things, yet sometimes I still find myself getting angry with them when they break something or spill something, especially if I warned them to not do it, but I have been trying to remember that it’s their sense of self that I am dealing with if I get too upset. I need to be very careful to not say anything I might regret later. When I had the chance to chat with my Grandpa a couple months ago, Carson ran into the room saying that Devon had broken something. It turned out to only be a bar of soap he dropped that cracked, but I had apologized to my Grandpa before we knew what it was. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s not important. It’s just things.” What a great way to be.