Never Too Busy To Hug

A few years ago, I was visiting my daughter, Merideth, and took the grandkids to wallyworld. We needed some groceries and maybe a toy or two, but were just meandering. It was about 5:30pm and I began to hear a child crying. As it grew louder, I came to a standstill in one of the major thoroughfare aisles. Moments later I saw a well-dressed 30ish working woman pushing a cart, and behind her with outreaching arms was a small, skinny girl of 4 or 5 years pleading, "Hold me," in between sobs.

I was overwhelmed with sadness. The mother was obviously a working woman and hadn't seen her daughter all day, but she was in a hurry to get something for dinner and get home to fix it, although she probably didn't really want to. She probably picked her daughter up from after-school daycare and maybe she was as tired as her child was, but that is no excuse not to give love. I wanted so badly to berate the mother and hug the little neglected girl.

Neglect isn't just aligned with poverty. It happens in every walk of life.

Nothing is as precious as a child. My heart would have been happy if that woman had just stopped, sat down on the floor, and opened her arms to the girl. But, that never happens, does it? No, life goes on. The child cries all the way home, the mother fixes dinner, puts the child to bed with a cursory peck on the cheek - maybe - and the child sleeps, exhausted by a long day and lots of crying. The child grows up thinking that her mother loves her, because she gets birthday parties and lots of Christmas presents, but becomes warped by lack of affection. She'll either become exactly like her working mother or needy and taken advantage of by men.

My mother did not work outside the home. I was the oldest of six children and she was very busy, too busy for hugs or showing us how to cook, etc. I received cursory attention when I was ill, but otherwise she was always sewing or cleaning or cooking. (Our Christmases were awesome.) My first hug from Dad was when I was about 32.

Sooo, my children, grandchildren, siblings, and husband know all about love from me. And, if that turns out to be my only contribution in life, I'm proud of it.