A little boy of about four years old had an elderly gentleman as a neighbor who had just lost his wife. Seeing the old man sitting alone in the yard and crying, the child went in, climbed onto his lap, and stayed there.
When he returned home, his mother curiously asked him:
- What did you say to the neighbor that made him calm down?
The child simply replied:
- Nothing, Mom. I just helped him cry.
My spiritual father mentioned this parable in several sermons. It is also attributed to Franz Kafka, but I found information stating that it belongs to the writer Leo Buscaglia. By telling it, the Father wanted to show that people don't need advice; they need to be listened to. They need us to participate in their pain, to feel that someone is by their side. This parable, first heard from the Father so dear to my heart, was deeply imprinted in my heart, and I kept thinking about it...
One day, while I was in the park, a somewhat heavier lady asked me if she could sit next to me. I replied yes and made room for her on the bench. I knew this woman. I had seen her several times in the park, and I admit I judged her because she spoke too loudly, smoked, or eagerly savored ice cream from a large container she held in her arms. Slowly, she began to talk to me and tell me about her sufferings from youth and the present. Her husband died when she was young, while she was three months pregnant with one of her daughters. It was a great tragedy and affected her mentally at the time. She told me that she now has a brain tumor, diabetes, and several other conditions. She got tired quickly, found it hard to walk, and had to sit down for a bit now and then to rest whenever she left the house.
She was crying... I am very sensitive to people's pain. It's very easy for me to cry too. Only, until now, I used to hold back my tears and didn't want to show my sensitivity so easily. But this time, I remembered the parable above, unlocked the floodgates of my eyes, and let the pain from my soul surface through the tears that slowly slid down my cheeks. I let them flow, looking into the eyes of the woman next to me... simply... without saying anything... They were sincere tears, full of compassion. I thought for a few moments that someone might see me crying with this woman, but then I told myself I didn't care.
The lady next to me also spoke to me about God, how only He helps us. She confessed that she is Turkish, her name is Eden, she goes to the Orthodox church and prays in front of the altar, because it is closer than the mosque where Muslims pray. She told me that she had been on pilgrimages to several saints and to churches dedicated to the Mother of God. Her faith and devotion to our saints impressed me, even though she was Muslim! I was sorry I had judged her. She stayed on the bench next to me until she felt better and left.
Me? I felt relief in my soul, and it was as if my spiritual pains were cleansed by the tears I offered for the woman next to me. No new burden had been added to my burdens; rather, mine had disappeared, making me realize that I haven't had and don't have a difficult life! There are people with far more troubles and hardships.
I left the park with renewed strength. I hadn't expended energy with this woman; rather, I had gained strength!
Iulia Enache
Photography by Rafhael Ataide / pexels.com