Yesterday in the supermarket, a dad with two children and a trolley.
One child started to scream and shout in distress. It sounded like a tantrum – but only if we lack imagination, compassion and some understanding.
The second child didn't seem too bothered. Dad spoke firmly and took and held the hand of the distressed child, who refused to be calmed or comforted, and continued to be very upset. Dad held on to his hand.
Then Dad stood in the queue with his trolley, speaking calmly to the child, ignoring the responses of some others around him, and eventually the lad settled and walked with his family out the doors.
Sensory overload, heat exhaustion, familiar and safe routines interrupted, just too much to process by one highly sensitive mind – any combination of these or other causes.
And a dad whose behaviour over the ten minutes or so of his son's distress, was gentle, calm, firm and there, just there, the reassuring, patient presence that wouldn't turn away, or let go.
What that costs, day and daily, in the loving and caring for a child who feels and sees the world differently? Who knows.
But in those ten minutes we watched a lived out parable of the love of God in the love of a father holding firmly the hand of his child.
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