The Natural

He was screeching and writhing when his mother was working on the splinter in his foot, but when my dad took over, such a calm fell that all we could hear were the wind chimes there on the porch, played by the gentle hand of the breeze in the afternoon sunlight. My friend had been picking at the splinter ineffectually. My father took the little foot firmly in hand, saying, “Yep, that’s a deep one.” He expertly picked the skin open with the bent but sterilized pin, just enough to expose the end of the fat splinter so he could grasp it firmly with the tweezers. When the little boy yelped, my dad agreed with him, “Yeeahh, that hurts.”  Besides two little yelps, though, the boy rested under my dad’s capable hands. 

There was something my father was especially suited to offering in this situation, and I want to try to put into words what it was. When I had gone in to ask his help, even though he had supervised his grandkids and their friends all day on the water slide, he had risen fresh as a daisy, differently than if I had asked him to fix a car or a toy. He is always ready, and very able, to help. But something about our circumstances out there on the porch called for his strength in a special way that doesn’t make me admire him as much as just love that he himself in all his particularity exists. He can build things and fix things. That’s cool! But he can also pull out stitches and clean a wound. And even more, you should see him with a baby. I’ve never seen a crying infant that was not soothed in his hands. He is uniquely gifted at wordlessness.

But sometimes he seems to want to be known for words, for wise words, like he thinks it would be better if he were very wise and knew the things to say, if he were a match for the complexities of a voluble woman. Don’t get me wrong; it’s good for him to try to do things that are hard for him. Good for him for working at those things. It can be an act of love.  But I want to express to him the depth of appreciation I feel for who he is without any adornments. If I could only express to him how quiet it was on the porch when he showed up, quiet, but with music.