Nyc story

I was just eight years old, but I had brought her down to her last frayed nerve. "I hate doing chores!" I yelled defiantly. My older sister was no better. "I hate doing homework!" she would whine incessantly.

My mother was finally fed up. She could have yelled at us and told us that sometimes, in life, you have to do things you hate. This would have made sense and probably is what most parents tell their kids. But my mother was different. She didn't handle things like most parents would. She was more creative.

My mother thought for a minute. Then she grabbed a couple pieces of paper and some pens. She said to us, "Ok, kids, over the next week, I want you to write down everything you hate, whether it's chores, or homework, or someone annoying at school. Anything at all. I am going to do the same thing, and we're going to go over our lists at the end of the week." We were a bit confused as to why we should do this, but we decided to do as she said.

By the end of the week, each of us had several pages of items. We had listed everything from "I hate school" to "I hate broccoli" and "I hate my classmate who broke my favorite pen." I suppose it was cathartic for all of us and I assumed that just writing these things down would be the end of this strange project my mother had designed. I was wrong.

After dinner at the end of the week, my mother took us to the beach and we made a small bonfire. I wasn't sure why we were doing this but I always loved bonfires, so I wasn't complaining. My mother brought chocolate and juices and crackers to make s'mores.

"Ok, now we're going to read out loud everything we hate!" my mother said with a gleeful smile. And so we did. It took a little while but we got through all of our "I hate" statements. That's when my mother did something shocking. Suddenly, she took our "I hate" lists and said, "Now we must let go of all this hate! This is too much hate to have in your hearts. You put your hates down on these papers, and now your hates are here. And now, they shall be gone!" With that, my mother threw our "I hate" lists into the bonfire.

We watched as the fire ate the papers. My mother beamed with joy, and all of a sudden I felt a great weight lifted. The hate was destroyed! The remarkable thing is that it really worked. In the time the followed, I didn't feel like complaining as much. I forgave others more easily. I was more at peace.

This listing and burning of "I hate" statements has become a tradition in my house. We do it every year and when the papers burn, we feast and s'mores and marvel in our hate-free lives. Now I think I will do the same thing with my children, and I hope they will do it with theirs. These many years later, whenever I hear the words "I hate," I immediately think of the fire and I burn them up. Hate is not a part of my life.