This is a busy time for my family: olive harvest, moving my aging in-laws into a home, travel, and a book launch. Plus, this post goes out on election day, which tends to cause frantic anxiety in a lot of people.
Being busy or distracted is when I often ignore people. I jump from one project to the next and focus on getting stuff done instead of on caring for others. It’s now, more than ever, when I need to remind myself that people around me are hurting.
With that in mind, here’s a story I hope you find meaningful.
I was a boy myself when I saw the boy with sad eyes.
It was over fifty years ago, and I was riding in the backseat of whatever rebuilt car mom and dad drove at the time. We were on the freeway in the fast lane, and I was bored, staring at other cars as we passed.
I spotted a boy who looked a few years younger. Bored like me, he was staring out his window. We made eye contact and I couldn’t look away. In his eyes I saw something unfamiliar and distressing. I couldn’t explain what I was seeing. He appeared desperate for human connection, searching to find someone who would understand.
As we drove away, I swiveled and watched him through the rear window. He continued to stare back. A moment later he disappeared into the traffic.
I turned forward, my boredom forgotten. Something in the boy’s eyes disturbed me. Who was he? I felt like there had almost been evil in his gaze.
That boy stuck in my memory over the years. It wasn’t until later that I was mature enough to realize that his eyes hadn’t been filled with evil. Rather, he had been deeply sad. Fearful. And pleading for something that probably seemed forever out of reach.
Here I am years later, eligible for social security, and I still remember this brief eye contact. It lasted maybe ten seconds. Yet I still think of the boy’s eyes and wonder what became of him. Why was he so sad? What made him so eager for connection? Where is he now? What has his life been like? Did he find what he needed?
We are all like that boy in some way. Each of us has a deep need for connection. All of us, even those of us who appear to have it all together, have deeper dysfunctions. We look out at the world in search of love, compassion, and empathy, waiting for someone to look back at us.
Recently, on my way to work, I stopped at a crosswalk near a school to let some middle schoolers cross the street. For some reason, a young girl looked up at me, a random old guy in an SUV. She had the same look I’d seen decades before. Her eyes were sad, pleading, and fearful. I wanted to get out of the car and give her a hug. I knew I couldn’t, but I prayed someone else would.
I won’t forget the boy I saw decades ago, or the girl I saw the other day. They wore their pain on their faces, while most of the rest of us bury ours deep down.
All of which is a very good reminder that no matter how busy you are, take the time to connect with others. Even with whatever pain is inside you—maybe because you feel what the pain inside you is like—you can be the connection a person needs, and the love our world needs.