It regularly amazes me; the power of love. Today, we went to the church to practice the Primary program. After the program, I was sitting around waiting for all the kids to have something to eat, and then we would head home. My two boys were one of the first to get their pizza slices and they sat down together on the blanket. I was happy to see them willing to sit together, for I am very much aware that in the not too distant future, this may not always be the case.
As more of the children come in after the practice, get their food, and start sitting down, my older boy stands up and tells me he wants to sit by his friends. He takes his plate and moves 5 feet and joins a group of boys his age. My older daughter had already moved to a group of her friends so it left my younger boy sitting all alone. As he sat there, all alone, eating his pizza, he seemed somewhat lost, kind of staring off into nothingness. He sat there for just a minute longer.
Then he picks up his plate and tells me he wants to go sit by his friends. He stands up and starts moving around my older boys' group and walks another 5 feet or so. Then he stops and looks around a bit. He seemed so lost, even out of place. I could see his eyes looking about, checking the faces of the kids sitting there around where he stood. And it occurs to me, he either doesn't have any friends, or doesn't know where they are. My heart started to ache with the thought of what he might be feeling.
A parent never wants their child to struggle. We never want them to hurt, or feel rejected, or feel alone. What could he be thinking? Did he just want to be like his older brother and 'go sit with his friends'? Maybe, as he stood there, he looked around at all of the kids and saw no one he recognized. Maybe he felt lost and out of place. While I was sitting there watching all of this, the other children gleefully eating pizza and anticipating the contents of the wrapped box, talking with their friends, laughing.... My heart just ached. Even the thought of it now makes me hurt.
It could very well have been, that as he stood there, looking at the other children, he realized that he would rather sit by himself. That he would prefer to sit closer to his dad and just finish his peice of pizza alone. It could very well have been that he never felt any of those feelings of concern, or being out of place, or perhaps anxiousness at finding someone to sit by. Maybe he never felt like he had no friends. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to 'go sit by his friends', but then simply chose not to.
Nonetheless, as I watched my youngest son try and 'fit in' in this very forgiving, very friendly, church Primary crowd, my thoughts drifted towards the future and the struggles that he will feel as he continues to grow and learn. I thought about the not-so-nice crowds in school and life, maybe the mean kids, or 'too-popular-for-you' group. I thought about girls openly making fun of him with their girlfriends and all I wanted to do was pick him up and protect him from all these things he must face in life. I just wanted to protect him from hurt, disappointment, hate, and loneliness.
Of course, I was sitting in the cultural hall, surrounded by dozens of other adults so I wisely I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself. I didn't pick him up, I didn't give him a hug, I didn't tell him everything would be ok. I just watched him, and hurt a little inside for him.
As the children finished up their pizza, one of the leaders stood and told all of the children that they had practiced so well that they would get to open the multi-colored wrapped box that she had brought. Her eyes darted about for just a moment to find one of the children to 'help' her in opening the package by tearing the paper off. Her eyes fell on my youngest boy, sitting all alone, just finishing up his peice of pizza. She asked him to help her and he did. He proudly went up, helped tear the wrapping paper off and discover it was a box of candy bags that each child would get to take home from the practice. Then he came back to me, smiled as he told me what he had done, then sat down and ate some more pizza, all alone, but seemingly happy.
It's a funny thing what love can do to us. The power of love for our children is inexplicable. I am unable to put into words how I felt for him, just him, in those moments. The terrible hurt and then joy that ran through my heart is something I am very greatful to experience in my life. Multiply all of this by 4 children, 18-20 years at home each, and then a lifetime plus eternity with all of them, and I don't know how my heart will be able to hold all of those feelings in.
How does something as small as a human heart hold the amazing power of love? Ask me in 60 years - maybe I'll have an answer then.
10 years ago