“Draw a bunny,” my two-year-old granddaughter, Sawyer, instructed me. 

I took the drawing pad from her chubby hands and did my best to sketch a rabbit. The results were awful—Sawyer herself might’ve done a better job—but she seemed pleased with my efforts. 

“I love him,” she said and pretended to pet my crayon creation.

Waiting for Eric

I smiled at her sweet gesture, but I couldn’t shake my grumpy mood. For one thing, it was almost noon, and I was still in my pyjamas. I hadn’t yet been able to shower and dress for the day. I was waiting for my husband, Eric, to take over Sawyer duty so I could change clothes.

While Eric and I both worked from home, we’d committed to taking every Thursday off to babysit Sawyer while our daughter worked. But the last several weeks, Eric had had unexpected work commitments that left Sawyer and me on our own. While I could easily manage her care on my own—her mom is one of five, after all—I felt annoyed that Eric wasn’t helping.

Sawyer shoved the drawing pad into my hands, interrupting my thoughts. “Draw Piper. Draw Peyton,” she said. Piper and Peyton were our dogs, who Sawyer positively adored. The dogs’ favourite thing about Sawyer was the food she dropped from her highchair.

I did my best to draw the dogs, thinking how much better Eric’s artistic skills were. “If Grandpa finishes his work soon, he can draw the dogs for you while I make lunch,” I said.

“Lunch? Let’s eat,” Sawyer replied.

I tried to tell her that we’d eat as soon as Grandpa finished his work, but she wasn’t having it. “I hungry now,” she said. She stuck out her lower lip, and I knew we were dangerously close to a meltdown.

I started making lunch. I grabbed a container of leftover chicken from the fridge, but when I turned to set it on the counter, I tripped over a toy and dropped the chicken. The lid popped off and the chicken went everywhere. The dogs came running, kindly cleaning up the mess.

“Uh oh,” Sawyer said. “Lunch on floor!”

“Yeah, it’s a mess, isn’t it?” I said, trying to hide the irritation in my voice. It wouldn’t have happened if Eric was here to help, I thought sourly.

As a back-up plan, I scrambled some eggs, which Sawyer gobbled up. As soon as she swallowed the last bite, she said, “Let’s draw more.”

I needed to mop the floor where the chicken had spilled, but that, too, would have to wait until Eric was available to help. 

While I might’ve drawn a pretty heart, I certainly hadn’t had a pretty heart that morning. DIANE STARK

“Grandpa, Draw More!”

Over the next half hour, I drew a rainbow, a lion, another bunny, and Sawyer and me playing at the playground. My artistic skills were not getting any better, but my irritation with Eric was growing.

When he finally emerged from his home office, Eric apologized and said, “What can I do to help?”

I sullenly told him about the spilled chicken and my need for a shower. He nodded cheerfully as though he hadn’t noticed my pouty tone. “OK, can you play with Sawyer for a few more minutes while I mop the floor? Then I’ll take care of her so you can shower.”

I nodded, still feeling grouchy. Sawyer set the drawing pad in my lap. “Draw more,” she said. “Draw I love you.”

I drew a large heart—definitely more within my ability level than my other attempts—and coloured it with every crayon in the box.

When I handed the paper back to Sawyer, she smiled and said, “Aww, Grandma has pretty heart.”

“Thank you, Honey,” I said. 

Then I realized that her sweet words weren’t true. While I might’ve drawn a pretty heart, I certainly hadn’t had a pretty heart that morning. I remembered that Bible verse that talked about our words reflecting what is in our hearts (see Luke 6:45). My words had been full of resentment and irritation, and I cringed to think that my heart was full of such things.

I picked up Sawyer and carried her into the kitchen where Eric was still mopping. Before I could say anything, he apologized again for not helping with Sawyer that morning. “Those invoices took longer than I expected,” he said. “I was going to do them last night, but I …”

“… drove Nathan to youth group,” I finished for him. Taking our youngest son to church on Wednesday nights was something I normally did, but Eric had offered to drive him because I had a headache.

“I’m sorry, Babe,” I said. “I was annoyed with you when I had no right to be. We’re partners and we should be working together. Instead, I was keeping track of who was doing what, and it wasn’t a pretty look on me. I’m sorry.”

Eric hugged me. “It’s an easy trap to fall into. I’m glad we cleared it up.”

Sawyer squirmed in between us. “Grandpa, draw more!”

I laughed. “I’ve been telling her all morning that you can draw better than I can. Now you’ll have to prove it.”

As I went upstairs to get dressed, I heard Sawyer say, “Grandpa, draw I love you.” 

I smiled at her sweetness and murmured a prayer, asking God to help me guard my heart so that more and more often, my words would reflect a pretty heart, full of God’s love for those around me