Pay Attention

Dear Sweet Readers,

It is my intention to retire my “Cat and Kids” column in June. I tell you this now, because for the next couple of months, I will be reprinting some sample favorites. This column has advocated for the love of families and children. Here is a pointed reprint (from 3/31/10) hailing a specific cause. Thank you for making me feel free to speak freely.

She looked up at me with those big, beautiful, sad almond eyes. Eyes full of hurt. Eyes like you see in sad commercials. The whites of her eyes quickly turned pink as big, crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks. The tears came with no sounds or movements except the blink of her eyes. There were no sobs, no shrugging of the shoulders, not a whimper or a sigh – just warm, hot tears flowing down her face as she looked at me seeking help. A child’s tears. Silent tears.

Silent tears hurt the worst. They choke your throat up and make it hard to breathe.

We come into this world kicking, screaming and making a wail of a lot of noise to let everyone know that we are in need. We cry with sighs, sobs and sniffles when we hurt ourselves or get a childhood boo-boo. Crying brings the proper, needed attention to a child. Silent crying is a learned action.

You learn to cry silently as a child when you are laying in your bed and the adults in your life are in another room cussing, fussing and fighting. You cry silently when you hear something hit a wall and you don’t know if was a thing or your brother or your sister or your mom. You lay still and cry silently because you don’t want everyone else to know that you are hurting even worse than they are because you don’t understand why this ugliness is happening.

You cry silent tears when you don’t want the other person or people present to know that you are doing something that you do not want to do. In the dark, you bite your lip. In the light, you turn your head. Silent tears happen when someone is hurting you and you don’t want to provoke them to hurt you any worse.

She looked silently at me with those big, beautiful preteen eyes. Eyes full of tears. She looked at me with quiet tears streaming down her cheeks – too drained by abuse to have the energy to cry passionately. She looked at me for support.

What she needs to know is that she is good stuff. That I know that she has a good heart. That it is not her fault. That, yes, adults (even ones that she loves) have problems. She needs to know that I will love her unconditionally. She needs to know that life can be different and better than her present circumstance. She needs to know that I will do grown up things to get her help.

Her tears remind me that there are still many children suffering silently, keeping secrets. I pray that someone along the way creates relationship enough that they can confide in them. I hope that someone will pay attention to the children who are acting out or whose grades suddenly drop or such like. We have to pay attention. Then maybe we can break their silence.

Silent tears show a hurt soul. But it doesn’t have to go that far, if we would all just live right or admit it when we don’t. Make some noise. Talk to somebody. Save the children!

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