Connecting With Words

One day recently I was dutifully taxi-driving a car load of children around the city. We passed a community building with a big sign hanging out front that said: "Say No to Family Violence." My eight-year-old asked, "What is family violence?" I explained how in some families parents thought it was okay for husbands to hit wives, wives to hit husbands, and even parents to hit children. "But are they allowed to?" she asked, shocked. We proceeded to discuss the laws (no, it's called assault) but that behind closed doors people often disregard laws. To my astonishment, a visiting child piped up in a very casual voice, "my mum and dad hit me all the time." She then lapsed into silence and I could see her brain working through this new information, trying to make some sense of her difficult situation. Further discussion with the child will take place out of range of my children's ears.

What breaks my heart is not just that she has had to endure parents who express their anger this way, but that she doesn't have anyone to trust at home to be able to ask questions to understand life. When my girls want to nut through some new information, they ask numerous questions so they can create a clear picture for themselves. I love those conversations. They trust that they can ask, that they will get help to understand, and that the answers are honest. If I don't know something, then we find out. Often I get to learn something new too. Perhaps I am making an assumption that this child can't trust someone at home, but can we trust someone if we fear their anger and lashing out with a smack?

I work with socially disadvantaged people, people cut off from mainstream society, people cut off from family ties or connections with meaningful relationships. I see what happens when people do not have someone to communicate with, someone they can trust to say anything to and know that they will be heard. Many homeless people interviewed report that disconnection is one of the reasons they land on the street and stay there. It's very sad, to me, and it's one of the reasons I love my job - because I offer a way of connecting with these people so that no matter how shy, how cut off, how humble or how much pain they are in, they can have a chat and a moment's connection to someone who does care.

Which brings me back to children. They are learning so much from adults around them; they are learning how to behave, and open communication is fundamental to their development as independent and secure adults. It is such a gift to give them to know how to articulate their feelings, to satiate their curiousity, to feel free to say whatever they like with people they trust. I love that my children come home from school and unload about their day, that we can talk about the good things that happened that made them feel good, and also dissect the not so good things that happen too. Because as you know, good and bad things happen to all of us, all our lives, and what a gift for any of us to have someone who cares and who wants to listen. It is reinforced to me, over and over again, just how important it is to foster that connection, to make time, to let them know they are worth listening to.