[SB] Sabbath Blessing

[Molly Wolf]

Brunch

She got into the brunch buffet line behind the young couple with the 
curly-haired little boy, seated on his father's arm. She smiled to 
herself as the child's parents explained what foods were on offer and 
asked him what he would like. When he opted for more pancakes than 
were prudent, his mother gently but firmly sidetracked him in the 
direction of the cantaloupe; clearly she knew what a well-balanced 
lunch should look like.

The older woman helped herself to scrambled eggs, a potato pancake, 
some fruit, and took them back to her table and ate absently, reading 
the Sunday paper, keeping half an eye and ear on the young family, 
seated at the next table. She heard how engaged both parents were 
with the child, how they treated him with steady affection and 
courtesy, listening to him and responding, and again she smiled to herself.

On her way back to the buffet for toast, she stopped very briefly at 
the family's table and said, "Forgive me for intruding, but I just 
wanted to tell you that you're doing a fabulous job of parenting."

"Why, thank you!" the young mother said. The father smiled. The child 
gave the woman a wide-eyed curious look. Returning with her toast, 
she was careful not to intrude on them again.

It was something she'd started to do of late: to praise good 
parenting wherever she saw it. This was because she was always aware 
of the wonderful power of a really bad example.

When her own kids were small, she'd taken quite a lot of flak from 
others on her parenting practices. She was, they said, too soft on 
her kids. (The fact that her most severe critics had less than 
stellar track records in the parenting biz was something she tried 
not to mention.) Kids need rough treatment to toughen them up, she'd 
heard over and over again. The kid is being bullied? Teach him to 
turn and pound the other guy into applesauce. Somewhat wearily, she'd 
ignored the criticisms and had done what she thought best, which was 
generally counter-cultural.

But it was hard, bucking all the pressure, and she often questioned 
whether or not her choices were the right ones, given the family 
circumstances, which were difficult. Only of late, as her now-adult 
kids began to come into their own, was she beginning to feel more 
certain that she had, in fact, done pretty much the best a parent could.

And so now she praises good parenting whenever she sees it, in the 
supermarket, in places like this restaurant, trying not to be weird 
or intrusive, but giving the reassurance of a veteran. She drops the 
praise in a few words and smiles and walks away, minding her own business.

She was into the book review section when she became aware that 
someone was standing by her table.  A little apprehensive, she looked 
up and saw the young mother. Had she given offence? She stood, a 
little uncertain.

"I just wanted to let you know," the mother said, "that your words 
meant a lot to me." She sniffed slightly, took off her glasses, wiped 
her eyes. "In fact, they made me cry."

The older woman spoke softly of the decisions she'd had to make, how 
so many of them meant rejecting what the culture said mattered -- 
how, for example, she had insisted on letting her kids have 
dream-time instead of forcing them into accomplishments that didn't 
interest them. How the only way to raise courteous adults is to model 
courtesy to your kids. How children who know themselves to be 
well-loved will, in the end, come out okay.

The young mother told the older woman that she, too, is never sure 
that what she's doing is the best thing for her son. Others advise 
her to be tougher with him; others treat their own children without 
respect or courtesy, as though being under the age of six means never 
having to hear "I'm sorry." And she has no veteran mothers to talk 
to, nobody to advise. Only her own instincts.

Go with your gut, the older woman told her. "And when in doubt, 
cuddle. That's what I always did."

"May I have a hug?" the girl said.

"Of course."

So that's why I was supposed to be here, the older woman thought to 
herself, watching the young family leave. To leave those words with them.

She smiled to herself and got on with the paper.



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A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in 
no other way. -- Mark Twain