Making It All Better

My recent quiet Saturday morning shopping at the farmer's market was suddenly interrupted by the cries of a little girl.  She had stubbed her toe and her tears came quickly.  Her dad, one of the vendors, walked quietly over to the tiny child, asked her what was wrong, embraced her, rubbed her foot and scooped her up into his arms.  His love made all that was wrong so much better for his small daughter.  I recalled that special time in my life when all that hurt or upset me could instantly be resolved by the love of my parents, kissing my owies and boo-boos away.  Now that I'm well beyond those years and my parents can no longer kiss my owies, I wondered how much I reach out or make myself available to others to listen and help them heal their hurts and pain.  I may not be able to make it all better for them, but that brief, intimate interaction recently between a father and his little girl gave me some good food for thought.