Jackie was one of my younger clients. She
attended counseling with me on a weekly basis, and seemed very willing to do
so.
I take some amount of pride in my ability to establish a rapport with my young clients. If, indeed, they are “tuned into” counseling at all, we never fail to become friends, in the professional sense of the word, and rapport and personability are the usual outcome. "Jackie" was no exception. And I cannot tell you, my Readers, how well this contributed to the success of her therapeutic process.
As I was waiting for Jackie to arrive for her
counseling session one day, and stood almost immobile in the lobby, six or
eight feet from the four glass doors, "Danielle’s" van pulled up. If there was a
teenage daughter anywhere on the planet, any closer to her mother, I never met
her. Jackie sat in the front passenger seat.
Danielle normally pulled into the circle driveway,
which allowed for easy access to the front doors leading into the lobby.
However, it was patently obvious that today would be an exception to the rule.
I silently mused whether something “different” was about to occur.
(I was not disappointed).
Apparently, mother and daughter had a little bet
going on, and I was destined to be “the only fan in the bleachers.” As the van
stopped at the east end of the circular drive and adjacent to it, Danielle and
Jackie dismounted "their trusty steed" in favor of their not so trusty feet.
The duo lined up as if they were about to run the 100
meter dash in the Summer Olympics; about 40 yards from their goal. And they "were
off.” Their finish line was obviously the glass doors, behind which I stood.
It was Danielle, and then it was Jackie. Neither
seemed to give or take an inch from the other. (Oh, did I mention that Danielle
was in her mid-40’s at the time)? Closer they came. The race was a
dead heat. Now 20 yards, now 10, and…
the two Olympic wannabes slammed into the glass
door… at the very same time. It was a tie.
It was such a poignant little thing. It was such
a momentary event. All of what? 15 seconds? But it was one of the most
significant “little” events in my two decades as a pastoral counselor. What a
rare privilege it was to act as a silent observer of that non-consequential race that day.
And I dare say neither Danielle
nor Jackie will ever forget it.
And I think that Jackie will cherish that memory
well into her old age. And who can say, on a rainy day, when Danielle has
“stepped away,” and Jackie’s hair is mixed with silver, and when she is sitting
for her own grandchildren, perhaps she’ll resurrect that old memory, and share
it with them.
And I can almost imagine tears welling up in her eyes,
... and perhaps a whimsical and lingering smile will
appear on her face.
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