I ran into a stranger as he passed by.
 "Oh, excuse me please" was my reply.
 He said, "Please excuse me too;
 wasn't even watching for you."
 We were very polite, this stranger and I.
 We went on our way and we said good-bye.

 But at home a different story is told,
 how we treat our loved ones, young and old.   Later that day, cooking the
evening meal,  my daughter stood beside me very still.   When I turned, I
nearly knocked her down. "Move out of the way," I said with a frown. She
walked away, her little heart broken.   I didn't realize how harshly I'd
spoken.

 While I lay awake in bed,

 God's still small voice came to me and said,  "While dealing with a
stranger, common courtesy you use,  but the children you love, you seem to
abuse. Look on the kitchen floor,  you'll find some flowers there by the
door.
 Those are the flowers she brought for you.  She picked them herself, pink,
yellow and blue.   She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise,  And you
never saw the tears in her eyes."

 By this time, I felt very small  and now my tears began to fall.  I
quietly went and knelt by her bed;  "Wake up, little girl, wake up," I said.
"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"   She smiled, "I found 'em, out
by the tree.   I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.   I knew you'd
like 'em, especially the blue."   I said, "Daughter, I'm sorry for the way I
acted today;

 I shouldn't have yelled at you that way." She said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay.
I love you anyway. "I said, "Daughter, I love you too,  and I do like the
flowers, especially the blue."