I seem to be having poignant encounters with strangers lately. One was rather negative at the time, and one was astoundingly beautiful. I’m trying to learn from both and squeeze all the good I can from these moments. I’d like to share the beautiful one with you.
We traveled for Thanksgiving, 400 driving miles, which translates to six and a half hours in the van with our three kids strapped down and pretty much bored but for our DVD player. It is not my favorite way to spend a day. Add to this our daughter’s autism and it becomes one of those things you just have to get through. In particular, my daughter is challenged by unfamiliar restrooms. We have made this particular trip enough times to find some restrooms that are acceptable to her. Our trip home was hindered by heavy traffic on the highway – an extra hour or so strapped in the van right before dinner time. We stopped at our usual fast food restaurant, which was quite crowded. The lines for the restrooms rivaled those of amusement park rides.
After eating my daughter needed to change into her pajamas in preparation for snoozing in the van. We debated the most expedient way to accomplish this task, but my daughter preferred one option and I preferred another. There was a restroom outside with a much shorter line, but my daughter dug in her heels. She much preferred to wait in the long line to be able to use the indoor facilities. Already upset by the indecision, she would not listen to reason. I “frog-marched” her out to the other restroom, aware that we were causing a little scene, but deciding it was worth it to get back on the road.
As we entered the outdoor restroom and took our place in line, my daughter was slapping at me and verbally protesting this arrangement. I told her that hitting me was not okay, and was surprised to hear someone say, “Your daughter did so well earlier in the restaurant.” Huh? I looked up to find the source of the voice and found another mom, pleasant looking and not at all sarcastic. My daughter and I both froze and evidently looked confused because the woman repeated, “I saw your daughter standing in line with her daddy and she was so patient.” I said, “Thank You.” And my daughter took up the conversation, almost instantly calm and cooperative. I also noticed that everyone else in the room seemed to be breathing easier and stopped staring at us. I made eye contact with the other mom and saw a nod of recognition. “She gets it,” I thought to myself, “She may not fully understand our situation, but she knows the power of positive attention, and she took the time to give it.”
With her simple sentence, she distracted and defused my daughter’s anger, she helped me remember the brevity of this struggle, and she eliminated the disturbance for our other observers. We’ve probably all experienced strangers getting involved in our kids’ meltdowns in not so positive ways: staring, chiding, scolding, cajoling – you name it – none of these responses is helpful. I would much rather people just turn a blind eye and go on with their business than use any of those approaches. This woman, through her earlier observation and her willingness to get involved in a positive way taught me a lesson. I hope I can be equally kind to another parent some day.