I'm Sorry

2008-07-25T04:34:00.000-07:00

The other day, I stopped by the local gas station to fill up my vehicle’s gas tank. I was just beginning to pump the gas when I noticed a father and his two young children, both under age 5, hurriedly walking into the store. I smiled to myself, remembering some of my early harried parenting moments with my children, Becca and Ben.

The little girl radiated pure light. Her simple, pure, unadulterated innocence naturally beamed outward from her little body. Her steps were energized and fully alive. Joy! She was filled with joy! Her spirit was dancing! This, I observed, was prior to them entering the store.

I was still pumping gas when I saw the three exit from the store and enter the parking lot. Sodas, chips, and candy bars were now in tow.

The little girl, guiding and directing her brother’s movements, had a noticeable furrow on her little forehead. Her distress was blatantly visible. Her steps were disjointed and she seemed off balance. Where had her joy gone? What could have happened in just two minutes?

I felt her spirit “reaching out” to her father’s spirit. Yet, he was deliberately not looking at her. He had disconnected himself from her in order to teach her a lesson. And, oh what a lesson this man was teaching his child!

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She offered these words from the center of her little heart, wholeheartedly and sincerely, hoping for the gift of her father’s forgiveness. I don’t know why she was apologizing. I have no idea if she had literally done something worthy of issuing an apology or not; however, she was in need of being seen and heard.

“No you’re not,” he coldly chided her. He did not look at his child. He was intentionally abandoning her when she needed him the most. The man was cool, in control, and his ego was running amuck. I reminded myself to be still, to witness, to hold her little spirit with love, and to pray for them. Come on, little one. Own your feelings. Take your stand. Own your power. Her little body, previously strong, alert, full of energy and life was now wilting before my very eyes. Her small shoulders now dropped and curled inward…..I thought her chest would cave in from the weight of her father’s words on her heart. Heaviness. Oh, the heaviness.

Her heart, overflowing with emotion, would not be denied. Honestly, respectfully, apologetically she offered, “Yes, I am.” The words quivered as they vibrated outward and upward from her tender spirit.

Again, he did not respond.

I watched her as she checked herself. She looked down at her body, questioning whether or not she was visible. I witnessed her “check” her father, looking up at him with expectation and anticipation, only to be confused by his inability to see her. She did not understand. She was afraid. She was angry. Come on, sweetheart. Speak your truth. Own your feelings.

This little soul, with big round blue eyes and smooth waves of long blond hair, paused. She looked within, listened to her spirit’s prompting and responded, “How do you know I’m not sorry?” The words rang out into the air loud, clear, and true. She was not challenging her father. She was simply asking. She knew what she was feeling.

She waited for his response.

There was none.

Nothing.

No thing.

He aggressively whipped open the car door and nonverbally gestured for the kids to climb into the vehicle. They obeyed, crawled in, both parking in their assigned spots. The little girl’s final resignation was more than I could stomach. Her light had just been extinguished. My eyes began to fill with tears.

That final scene was one of the most sorrow-full scenes I have ever observed. I witnessed the disconnect and deep distress as they engraved themselves on that precious, vulnerable, newly forming heart. I had just seen the little girl’s body, mind, and spirit progressively shut down.

As I watched them drive away I repeated her question.

“How do you know?”

Jean's Compassionate Stories

I'm Sorry