Do You Hear What I Hear?

I heard the sound after being in Food Lion for only a few minutes. I was in the produce section, picking out the perfect head of Romaine lettuce to go with the carrots, broccoli, tomatoes, radishes, and celery for my boring lunches of boring salad to last all boring work week. The sound was clearly coming from across the other side of the store. It was the sound of a child crying, screaming, pitching a fit.

I had the chance to stop at several grocery stores on my way home. I passed the first one in the pouring rain, thinking that I'd stop at the next one. I passed that one when the rain had halted and the sun was peeking out and a rainbow hung in the sky, its brightly colored end landing in a field just beyond the line of trees along the highway. I went on, thinking I'd stop at the one closest to home. As it was, I pulled into its lot in a downpour. So I waited. After a few songs on the MP3 player had played, the rain let up enough to make a dash for the door.

I got my produce and headed for some salad dressing, all to the tune of the screaming child. I could see other shoppers' reactions range from sighing to eye rolling to mutters of "...shut that kid up..."

I could hear the child, but I couldn't see the child. The people around me could hear the child, but they couldn't see the child either. But I could tell by the sound's movement that they were at the front of the store, perhaps even in the checkout lane. I had all I had come for, so I headed up front as well. And there they were, in lane 5, a woman with two boys; one putting the last of the groceries on the belt, and the younger one lying on the ground yelling about how the little grocery cart, the one for "shoppers in training" was his cart and he wanted it. I could see other shoppers and cashiers and bag boys and even a manager looking and counting the seconds down until this family left.

I got into her lane. There was another person ahead of me, behind the woman and her boys. I saw the woman trying to pay for her order and get her son off of the floor while he was yelling and her trying to put her card in the reader and his movements made her miss the slot several times and the looks and the stares and...and I had had enough.

Sitting in a restaurant, there's the kid over there yelling about carrots and peas touching on his plate. Two aisles over in Wal Mart there's a loud battle being fought over a toy being put back on the shelf. And closer to home, a child is crying about being corrected over the proper use of a word.

I can't say that I've never been annoyed by situations like these. Its hard to not be. It's easy to be the eye roller, the one with the annoyed sighs, the one muttering under your breath. It's hard to be the one trying to understand. It's even harder to be understood.

I put my basket of produce and dressing on the top of one of those end cap drink coolers and walked around to the front of my line. She had managed to get her boy, still on the floor, still crying, closer to the card reader to try to pay. I put my hand on her shoulder, and quietly asked, "May I help you get your groceries to your car?"

She burst into tears.

"What's your name?" I asked the small child, who was slowly inching toward the last whimpers of a good cry.

"Mommy has my hand." He looked at his hand, where his mother had hers clamped around his wrist. The older son spoke up, telling me his little brother's name, a name I can't remember, but he went on to say, "And I'm Luke." He held up a piece of paper with words written in pencil and said, "And this is my mom's shopping list."

"I want my buggy." The little guy still wanted his buggy. Focused, he was.

His mother was done and had picked him up.

"You know what time it is?" I asked the little boy. "It's time to go. No time for the buggy. It needs to rest now." I started pushing the cart behind the woman and her boys, with Luke hanging out, still with his mom, but closer to me. It was still pouring outside, so I waited just outside the door while she went to open up her car and get the youngest safely inside.


"I'm staying with you," Luke said. I told him he should probably go with his mom. I watched him catch up to her and when I saw the hatch rise on her SUV, I ran over with her groceries. As I started unloading her groceries, she came around to help and said, "Another day in the life of having a child with Autism."

"I knew it," I told her. "I recognized it and understood."

The little boy who had, just minutes ago, been dead weight on the dirty floor of a grocery store and screaming about buggies, was now climbing over the back seat to show me a toy.

"My girlfriend has a special little boy too," I said, talking to both the boy and his mother. "His name is Max. And sometimes, he has a bad day too." We were done unloading her groceries, so I said goodbye to the boys and to the mom, who thanked me again. We were both soaked from the rain, so I ran back inside to escape the rain and buy my groceries.

I got back in and discovered my basket was not where I had left it. One of the bag boys got my attention and asked if those were mine. He was pointing to my basket, now sitting on the end of an unused cashier lane. I told him yes, thanked him, picked it up and got back into a lane.

I didn't help the woman to feel better about myself or to get the approval of those around me. I didn't do it to show just how kind I can be. I didn't do it because I was behind on my random acts of kindness for the week. I did it for her. I did it for the older brother. I did it for the little boy having a bad day. I did it because I understood while trying to understand. I did it because I could see while trying to recognize. I did it because I was hearing while trying to listen.

Nothing was said to me as I made my purchase other than rote transaction conversation. I got my bags and left. As I walked out, I saw that she was still in the lot. It was still raining, so I quickly walked to my car and put my bags in, then made my way over to her car. I got to where she could see me, and I could see her. I could see that she was on her phone, so I just put my hand up in the universal symbol for OK. She nodded, so I left, the entire transaction being over and now the job of getting home my next priority.

You can say it was the Providence of a still, small voice or the finely meshed gears of Synchronicity turning, or Karma or rhubarb or whatever you want to call it. I felt that I was supposed to pass up the store where the sun was shining and end up getting soaked to the bone in order to be here, learning and leading and listening.

Understanding and recognizing and acting upon what you know to be right isn't hard. Listening to what you recognize in order to understand isn't hard. It isn't all that easy either. But what is easy, and I mean real easy, is showing compassion. Even if you don't understand; even if you don't recognize enough to listen to what's being said in the tantrum, you can always show kindness and compassion.

My girlfriend (yeah ,you heard me) says Autism Speaks. She's had years of listening to understand. I'm just beginning to hear...