Little Shmuelik was playing with his brothers and sisters on
a farm near their holiday house during the summer vacation.
It was just a short walk from the house where Mommy was
taking a rest.
Perhaps little Shmuelik got tired of playing, or maybe he
hadn't been included in the games enough; he was only three
after all, and couldn't really play his older siblings'
games. Maybe he had wanted a drink, or had to use the
bathroom . . . who knows? We may never find out. A clever
boy Shmuelik was, and so he didn't just walk off; he told his
big sister he wanted to go home, hoping she'd walk him back.
But she just nodded and said "OK, go home."
Well, it was not far, and Shmuelik was not really scared. He
knew the way well, and there really was no problem —
until he made it to the gate. The gate was usually open, but
now it was closed somehow, and hard though he tried, his
little hands couldn't open the gate. And so he looked to go
back to his brothers and sisters. But they were nowhere to be
seen anymore; perhaps they were hiding in a game of hide-and-
seek.
Once again Shmuelik goes back to the gate. He is now feeling
very lonely and scared. He starts crying and he calls for
Mommy. He is now frantic and in panic. With tears streaming
down his cheeks, he attempts to slide under the gate,
desperately forcing himself through the slim space, until
suddenly he succeeds, and runs and runs to his Mommy back in
the holiday house.
Resting Mommy is startled awake by the screaming and rushes
to the door to greet him . . . she looks for the others . . .
no, he's alone. She quickly examines him, as she lifts him
up, to see if there is an obvious injury, and sees none. She
tries to ask him what's going on but by this time the relief
washes over him leading to fresh torrents of tears.
Mommy gives up trying to talk to him and just holds him,
rocking him, stroking his hair and saying soothing words.
"Mommy's here, darling. It's okay now." Slowly he calms down
and she starts to get the story out of him. But when he
reaches the part where he's stuck by that gate he bursts into
a fresh gushing of tears. Between his sobs she hears his
heartbreaking accusation: ". . . and I called you, and you
didn't come!"
"Oy, but sheifele, I didn't hear you," she explains,
again and again. "If I had heard, I would have come . . ."
But she didn't hear. And Shmuelik keeps settling down, giving
gentle tearful hiccups and then suddenly crying out again
with renewed heartrending sobs.
Mother's thoughts are that if she can get him to understand
that she did not desert him on purpose, and that it was out
of her control, then he would be appeased. But no matter what
she says, and how she explains it, nothing seems to appease
little Shmuelik.
Suddenly she has an insight . . . a flash of understanding
of where this little boy is coming from. In his mind Mommy is
special, Mommy can do magic . . . Mommy can know when I need
her . . . and come. After all this has been true for most of
Shmuelik's life. . . until now. Each time he had a need,
Mother was there to fill that need. That day, suddenly, "I
needed you and you didn't come. You deserted me." This was
his whole picture. Reasons, excuses, nothing counts against
this great truth: "You deserted me in my hour of need!"
And so, Mommy stops explaining and says, "You were at the
gate? And crying? And you wanted Mommy? And Mommy didn't
come? Darling, I'm so sorry. I should have heard you. I
should have come, and I'm so, so sorry I didn't come." No
excuses, no reasons and explanations . . . just complete
acceptance of a child's worldview, and an apology.
And behold! The child accepts this . . . he finally feels
heard. He finally feels understood. His feelings have finally
been validated. He stops crying and in a short time is
playing happily again.
Perhaps this is what we all need. To be heard, to be
understood and to be validated. Sometimes our feelings defy
logic . . . perhaps they almost always defy logic. Sometimes
we can become angry or upset at others when we feel let down,
and all the "oh, so very valid reasons" do not produce the
expected appeasement. Although we may be fully aware that the
reasons are valid, and know that we should let go of our
anger . . . somehow we cannot let go.
If this happens and you have unwillfully hurt someone who
will not be appeased, then remember this story. Perhaps you
are not in the wrong in that you could not have avoided
letting the person down, but if you carefully hear, try to
understand and validate the other's pain, and apologize, then
you may get a lot further than by providing the cleverest
explanations.
[Ed. Will the author of this unsigned, excellent article
please contact me.]
