Do any of your children seem to have a penchant for injury? When my Nicolas was young we had to take him into the emergency room so often that the nurses started recognizing him. We worried, seriously, that the ministry would show up at our door.
Nicolas never let one bump on his head shrink away before another began. He has broken his leg, broken his arm, slingshot his own eyeball, had stitches on his forehead – and once he climbed into a plastic bobble car, tucked all his limbs inside, and rode down a hill with no way of braking. The car went down full speed until it collided with a sidewalk ledge and threw Nicolas out onto the pavement. We called him Two-Face for a while.
When I took Nicolas to the hospital for the forehead stitches he was four. Andrew, six, and Elijah, two, were with me. I was very pregnant with Madalen. The emergency room wait was long. The little ones were restless, and of course, Nicolas was in my arms with a bleeding head. I remember feeling quite overwhelmed when, out of nowhere, a little old lady approached me with a smile. She looked me in the eye and told me she could see I was outnumbered: could she help? She offered to take Andrew and Elijah for a walk around the hospital floor so that I could take care of Nicolas. Obviously, I’m not someone who lets strangers walk off with my toddlers. But if you were going to let your toddlers walk off with a stranger, she would be the one. She was little. She was old. She wasn’t seemingly crazy. And I was desperate. It was the perfect mix.
I thanked her and entrusted her with my most valuable treasures. When we finally exited the doctor’s office, the lady met us, holding my sons’ hands, and graciously passed them back to me. Then she disappeared. I’m not sure she wasn’t an angel.
I can’t remember her face, or if we chatted at all. I just remember that she was there, and that she gave me herself, and an hour of her time. She saw me in need, and then she did something about it.
It makes me think of how often I see someone who might need that kind of help: someone struggling to open a door, to carry their bags, to pack their tantruming child into the car. There are people everywhere in need of kindness. But it sometimes feels weird to offer, doesn’t it?
So many times I see something, but I don’t want to insinuate that the person can’t take care of themselves. Or I don’t want to interfere, especially when it has to do with their children.
I recently read an article by Julia Duin that talks about children with cognitive disabilities, and the public disruptions that sometimes occur. Cognitive disabilities, sometimes called hidden handicaps, can include things like post-traumatic stress disorders, fetal alcohol spectrum, anxiety disorders, or autism. A child looks like any other child, but something simple like being in an enclosed space, or a sudden loud noise, can cause a major panic attack and meltdown. Duin writes that more often bystanders will call the police or ministry before simply offering their help.
Of course, not many of us are going to feel especially prepared to offer when a child is in obvious distress. When a stranger’s child starts screaming and thrashing on the floor, we might just assume the kid needs a time-out. But the point was that, instead of criticizing, staring, or pretending that nothing was going on, a person’s attempt to reach out and say, “Hi, I see your hands are full. Is there anything I could do to help? Maybe carry your bags while you take care of your child?” can be a lifeline to a struggling parent who already often feels alone and judged.
I was once the overwhelmed mother, stuck for too long in a small hospital room with three little children. A woman saw a need, not even a great child-thrashing-on-the-floor type need, and she took a risk. She offered herself to me. And I remember her more than 10 years later for that one kind act of generosity.
Christ admonishes us that whatever we do to the least, we do it to him. As I sometimes like to gently (ahem) remind my children in our rare “off” moments, “Can’t we be kind?! Can’t we be human?! Can’t we be Christians?!” To be Christian, to be truly human, is to be kind, in the non-sentimental sense of the word. It sometimes means taking a risk, it sometimes means giving up money, an hour of our time, or going out of our comfort zone. But it always means offering ourselves up like Christ for another who might be feeling a little alone or judged.
