Some months ago, I spent several days in Mt. Lebanon with our daughter, Noelle and our 10-year-old grandson, Max. I did the usual things grandmothers do when they come to help; make breakfast, take care of dinner, drive Max to his baseball game. One of my most pleasant tasks was driving Max to school each morning and picking him up in the afternoon. This is a neighborhood school where the students either walk to school or get dropped off by car; no bussing.
One sunny afternoon I arrived early to pick up Max. The pick-up cars form a line at the curb outside the school building about half an hour before the children are dismissed and I wanted to get a good spot. I had brought a book to read while waiting for the dismissal bell. Looking up from my book, I noticed a woman sitting on the sloping grass bank, obviously waiting for her child to be dismissed. Then a boy, who looked to be about twelve, ran down the sidewalk toward her. He flung himself down beside her and the woman asked him how his day had been. The boy hung his head and started talking to his mother in a low voice. Although I could not hear what they were saying, I could see the boy had started to cry. The mother put her arm around him and gently pulled him down against her shoulder.
It was obvious something had greatly upset him, probably something that happened in school that day. The dismissal bell had not rung and he was the only student who had left the school. This mother was doing exactly what her son needed at that moment. She was giving him loving attention, comfort and peace, talking to him in a low voice, listening to whatever he had to say. As I watched the mother hold her son, I thought of how much we all need empathetic comfort and affection every now and then.
By the time we’ve reached our elder years we’ve all surely experienced times of pain, suffering. We’ve known days when life took on a harsh edge and we stumbled along in darkness, both solitary and frightening, without quite knowing where to look for a way to navigate, a way back to the light. Suffering and pain know no age boundaries. Young or old, we all must face them at some time in our lives.
The saddest thing is this: We never really know when someone we meet might be in the throes of pain, physical or emotional. How important it is then to tread lightly, speak gently and stay far away from judgmental reaction. How important it is to stop and listen, offer a kind word, a steadying hand. That’s not always easy to do. We get busy and tired and cranky; too busy to take the time to understand what might be happening to someone else; too tired and too taken up with our own affairs to care. I hate to admit it, but I’ve been guilty of such behavior in the past.
That mother whose child ran to her crying knew just what to do. She listened. She held him on that shady patch of lawn and dried his tears . The boy needed her right there and then and she unfailingly gave him the comfort he needed. What does it cost to listen to a friend’s troubles, to reach out with a hug, touch, a hand? Only time; time and quiet listening and unconditional empathy.
