Perhaps one of the most innate gifts children possess is compassion—a natural ability to empathize, an ability to express kindness in a variety of uninhibited ways. I remember many years ago, when my two oldest daughters, about 10 and 8 years old at the time, found a dead bird in our backyard. They were quite upset, and along with two of their friends, decided that a burial would be proper. They clearly needed a ceremony to help them deal with the death of the bird. This ceremony allowed them to pause, connect to their inner thoughts and emotions, pray and connect with each other.

At the time I did not think a whole lot about their ‘compassionate act.’ I just thought what they were doing was nice! And here again, I find a poignant distinction between parenting and grandparenting. As a parent, I didn’t always pause long enough to truly understand the deeper nature of the thoughts and feelings behind the behaviors and actions of my children. As a grandparent, this is the first place I head to in order to understand them in a deeper way.

I remember last year, during the Christmas season, my family went to the Festival of Trees held in downtown Detroit. Christmas trees decorated creatively, some simply, others opulently, were on display and could be purchased, with proceeds going to Detroit’s Children’s Hospital. Wreaths and gingerbread houses were also on display.

Beside many of the displays were pictures of children who were ill and who had been treated at Children’s Hospital … kind of reminders of the real purpose behind this Festival of Trees. As we walked along, changing partners and conversation, I began to notice my oldest granddaughter looking more at the pictures of the children who were ill rather than the trees themselves.

At one point her eyes became teary and moist and she was silent. I fell back and joined her. She took my hand in hers and asked me why some children had to be ill. She also asked me if I thought any of them would die. At eight years of age, I could see that both her head and her heart were trying to understand and respond to the pictures.

I found her questions difficult to answer. The truth of the matter is I did not know how to answer her first question, despite my 23 years in the medical profession. So, I told Shelby I really don’t know why some children were so ill, and yes, some of them would die but some of them would get better. Then I asked her what she was thinking and feeling.

Shelby told me she felt very sad for the children who were in the pictures. I told her I felt sad, too, and probably everyone in the big room who had come to the festival felt some sadness as well, that in fact people came here to offer support for the children who were ill and their families and that buying a tree or wreath helped raise money that would allow the children to receive medical treatments that might help them get better.

Shelby did not have any money on her, but I could tell she wanted to make a purchase. In fact, she thought a gingerbread house would be a great purchase and would also make a nice donation for the children in the pictures. Hand in hand, we made our way over to the little houses of all varieties and shapes. I picked one out, a log cabin gingerbread house, and we all agreed it was a good choice for me, the backpacker and camper! Since I didn’t have enough money on me either, I borrowed $50 from my daughter, Shelby’s mom. I paid for the little log gingerbread house and was told I needed to return the next day (a 40-mile drive round trip) to pick it up and take it home for Christmas. I ended up walking over a mile from and to my car, transporting the little log house. Returning to my car was especially a challenge as I had to balance the little house, heavier than I ever imagined, so as not to damage it.

Unfortunately, by the time I arrived home, several cinnamon sticks (the logs) had fallen off the house. I then spent the next two weeks re-attaching the cinnamon sticks onto the sides of the house so it was intact for Christmas Eve, when the family would gather for a dinner that my grandparents had begun over 59 years ago.

My sister and her family, my daughters and now my granddaughters sit around the same table I sat at with my grandparents. It is a very special moment for me, but last Christmas Eve was made even more special by the presence of the gingerbread house and the meaning it held for each of us.

My daughters and granddaughters, like many, many children, are very tender hearted. As parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, we need to honor our children’s tenderness, the seed for becoming compassionate adults.

As the holidays approach, let us think about the real gifts of life that we can give to each other—gifts of the heart, gifts that connect us to each other. Let us teach our children these are the gifts that really matter, these are the gifts that represent the spirit of all the people of the world and so, the real spirit of all of the holidays that will be celebrated throughout the last days of 2001 and will continue on into the coming year.

Copyright © 2001 Elaine K. Williams. All rights reserved worldwide.