Compassion

It happened again this week; a child asked about my neck. A couple of months ago I had a spot removed from my neck that left a long, raised scar that is slowly healing and flattening. Several kids have asked about it - kids from my class, kids at the school where I volunteer, kids in the choir where I assist. They each want to know what happened. After I tell them that the doctor had to check something on my neck, they will wince or ask if it hurts.

My reflective self started thinking about this. And I realized that I can learn something from young kids. When they see something that seems wrong or different, they ask about it. Often I'll notice something different about someone--a bandage or a wince or even a sad countenance--and I choose to not ask. For privacy or some other "noble" reason. But I don't ask. My kids never just ignore something. They always ask, even if it seems improper. They ask because they care. Does my not asking convey that I don't care for the other person?

I need the fearlessness of my kids - to ask and to risk showing care for someone else. If nothing else, I've made a connection with someone.

Photo by R. Scott Wiley