Is there anything sadder than a little boy crying over a broken toy?
Do you remember?
Your favorite toy–BROKEN–and not by someone else. That would only make you mad, but broken by your own hand.
The ultimate O U C H.
He was devastated. His sisters and mother had already come into the restaurant, but he and his dad stayed out in the lobby.
He was just about unconsolable.
“Whhhhhhhhhy dad? Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhy,” he sobbed.
Dad was already kneeling down beside him so he could be at his level.
“I’m sorry buddy,” I heard his dad say in a soft, low voice.
“I didn’t mean to drop it, daddy. It just slipped out of my hand. It just slipped,” he continued to sob out as he picked up the broken pieces of his toy train car.
“I know, buddy, I know it was an accident. You didn’t do it on purpose,” his dad said reassuringly.
“Maybe we can get another one,” the son asked trying to put NOW back the Pieces of his broken heart?
“Son, I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t think they sell these anymore. We might be able to buy something else but nothing just like this,” dad said, once again in a very comforting tone.
“Maybe, maybe we can just fix it, daddy?
“Buddy, I don’t think that’s going to happen either; the pieces that we might have been able to fix are broken up too. I’m sorry, Pal.”
The mantra started:
“It’s not fair. . .it’s not fair. . .it’s not fair. . .I want my train back. I want my train back. I just want my train back again, dad.”
And the refrain:
“I know, buddy, I know, I know, I know. . .”
“I JUST WANT MY TRAIN!”
L O U D E R CRYING.
“Sometimes things just can’t be fixed when they get broken. That’s why we have to be careful with the things that important to us,” dad tried saying as assuringly as he could.
More crying. . . .
“Come here, buddy,” dad said as he picked his son up and put him on his knee as he continued to kneel down beside him.
His son wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck and cried a bit more until it just settled down into a few sobs and then just a couple of shudders.
All of this took place to the side of me as I was waiting to pay my bill and leave.
It wasn’t a very long few moments.
It was me, standing in line, waiting behind another patron to settle a debt, pay a bill. . .
And yet, it was a little boy with a smashed train and a broken heart with a caring dad that was more than enough filling my Account.
In the end, it wasn’t much of his words or reassurances that made the difference; it was that WORDLESS compassionate, loving hug.
Do you remember?
Something broken. . .
The devastation. . .
The hurt. . .
The R E L I E F
. . .of an unspoken word that was a hug. . .HELD BACK INTO WHOLENESS?
It was a powerful sight to see that between a son and his dad. . .
Even more powerful to know we possess, even NOW, that kind of healing power for another’s
B R O K E N N E S S.
The World becomes WHOLE, gets more healed, one compassionate hug at at time.
The World doesn’t need another speech. . .it needs a sincere, compassionate hug. . .
It won’t only pick up the pieces. . .it’ll hold them in place.