Mrs. Johnson took her little boy with her when she stopped by her neighbor’s home to deliver a casserole for the grieving widow. Mr. Cline had died suddenly and the community was rallying to aid and comfort his grieving wife.
Getting ready to leave after a short visit with all the neighbors gathered there, Mrs. Johnson couldn’t locate her five-year-old, Davey. She quietly began to search through all the rooms of the large home. But to no avail, that boy had completely disappeared. Mystified and a little anxious, she finally noticed a short hallway leading off the large foyer. Knowing this might be the answer to the missing Davey, she walked down the hall towards a closed double door.
But as she drew closer, she heard the unmistakable sounds of quiet, desperate, feminine sobbing. Realizing this must be the private bedroom of the lonely widow, she turned to quietly retreat back to the kitchen. But then a very familiar small voice coming faintly from behind that door stopped her in her tracks. With horror she realized that her rambunctious friendly little son had disturbed the privacy of the widow, tucked away in her bedroom to grieve alone.
Embarrassed at his intrusion, she turned back and eased the door open, intending to apologize profusely, grab her wayward child, and beat a quick retreat. But as she looked into the room, she saw her son sitting motionless on the edge of the bed where Mrs. Cline lay, eyes closed, sobbing her heart out. Davey was holding the limp hand of the widow as silent tears slid down his own cheeks.
Her son finally looked up and spied Mom frantically motioning him to come away from the bed and out into the hallway. She walked him rapidly back to the living room, said all her goodbyes, and left. When she finally had Davey in the car, mom turned and asked what in the world possessed him to disturb Mrs. Cline in her bedroom.
Davey turned sad innocent eyes up to his mom’s, and said in a very subdued voice, “I was just looking around the house to have sumpin’ to do. But when I found that door and I opened it, there was Mrs. Cline, just layin’ there crying. Everybody needs somebody to cry with when they hurt, Mom. I was just helpin’ her cry.”
Out of the mouth of babes. Everyone needs someone to care when they hurt.
Words aren’t always necessary, and sometimes truly unneeded. But to share their pain and grieve with them? To just be there, share a warm hug, do a chore that you know you can do for them…those acts of thoughtfulness are always welcome to a person who has lost a part of their world. Don’t be afraid to give love and care. And many times, it is best done – not just said.
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