Living Outside the Lines: Introducing Mr. Benjamin Snuggles, Esquire
By, Becky J Miller
Offering care and concern when a fellow human is enduring a trial or hardship seems to be the right and acceptable thing to do. Where the waters get murky is in the practical application of said care and concern. Although I am sure Miss Manners and Dear Abby have answered inquiries on this very topic, I don’t believe anyone has ever published a “how to” book.
Wouldn’t it be great if there was an encyclopedia with an indexed guide to life’s situations along with thoughtfully worded paragraphs offering step by step instructions on how to care for someone experiencing a particular hardship? Why hasn’t anyone written such a guide? Probably because it would take a lifetime to document every possible scenario and just as soon as the author decided all subjects had been adequately covered, some other “never seen before” condition would arise.
Plus, if there were such a guide, it is quite possible that rather than offering heart felt concern, our responses would become “textbook” or cold and insincere. Which brings us right back to the original problem, how do we offer sincere comfort? So many of the standard answers, “It’ll all work out.” “Good things are just around the corner.” “You will be okay.” or “I promise…” are really just empty words. We use them because they are familiar, but they are not necessarily truth.
Several months ago a friend at church was near distraught. Her only son, Ben, who gives the very best hugs, was deploying overseas into a war zone. This woman is very dear to me, and I wanted so much to offer some type of comfort. These words ran through my mind, “Don’t worry, he’ll be okay.” Does anyone really know that to be true? No. We hope and pray so, but unless we can see into the future, how can we make such a statement? Searching for something I asked, “What branch of service?” “Marines.” Strike 1. Next, “What is his job?” “Reconnaissance.” Strike 2.
Marine Reconnaissance? Are you kidding me? Her son would be on the front lines, first in. There was absolutely NOTHING I could say. Tears sprang to my eyes, I grabbed her neck and together we cried for her precious son who was leaving the comforts of home for a foreign, war-torn country. At that moment, sharing her pain was the only comfort I could offer.
After church that day inspiration struck. I bought a big, cuddly teddy bear, tied a ribbon around his neck, and attached a note that said something like this, “Hello, my name is Benjamin Bear. My orders are to stand in for Ben while he is gone. I am very good at giving hugs, and my fur is waterproof, so tears will not ruin it. I am also a very good listener. Whenever you miss Ben feel free to share those thoughts with me and hug me tight during his absence. My orders are specific, I belong to you, please do not allow the Abby character (her six year old daughter) to kidnap me. Once Ben is safely home, I will happily change residence should you so desire. Sincerely Benjamin Bear, Esquire.”
Maybe giving a teddy bear to a grown woman sounds sophomoric, but since there is no official guide book on offering care and concern, who’s to say what’s right? I derived great pleasure finding just the right bear and composing a note in his voice, and my friend, well, she was overjoyed to receive my gift.
Sincere comfort, unashamedly offered, goes a very long way in strengthening the human connection, even when it comes in the form of a stuffed bear.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller
“Warrior Princess”
