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HeroicStories #746: Lauren Listened
Reaching more than 40,000 subscribers in 118 countries, this is...
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HeroicStories #746: 2 April 2008 www.HeroicStories.com
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--+-- This Story Originally Ran as #677: 2 November 2006 --+--
Lauren Listened Story Editor:
by Harold Spriggs Clayton Bennett
Illinois, USA
My life was transformed in 2004, when I was 15 years old on a mission
trip with my church youth group. We were in Kansas City, Missouri,
building the foundation of a house for Habitat for Humanity. I was
very shy then.
Halfway through the week and halfway through one day, I was tired. We
were working in hot sun, loading rebar from a warehouse into our
pickup truck for our worksite. After the truck was loaded, I jumped
up into the rear with my friends. At the building site, I was about
to leap from the back of the truck when our pastor began to back up.
I lost my balance and fell hard on the blacktop.
For a moment, I wondered if I'd died. When I got up, a man nearby on
his front porch laughed at me. That was hard to hear; my self-esteem
fell, too. The rest of the day I worked with my head a little lower
than usual and didn't say much.
After work, we returned to the church where we were staying for
dinner. Then the girls in our group showed us a bag system for
leaving encouraging notes to each other. That night I stayed up late
in the kitchen, working on notes to my friends. Lauren, whom I'd
known for a year, sat next to me and asked how I was doing.
I could tell she really cared, and began saying more about my
feelings than I expected. I was discouraged about falling earlier
that day, and remembered my aunt Marion, who had died a year earlier
after falling down her basement stairs. With Lauren keeping me
company, I cried.
Once I calmed down, Lauren told me some things I'd longed to hear.
She said, "Don't worry about tomorrow, for that is in the future.
Worry about this minute, what is going on now. It's OK to let your
guard down every now and then to open up to me and the rest of our
group. You'd feel a lot better if you would. It's not going to be
easy to say goodbye to you at the end of this week, but I know our
friendship will last. You're a great kid, Harold. You just have to
find yourself, and accept yourself the way you are."
That Friday night, our last in Kansas City, I took Lauren's advice. I
told the group about my Aunt, and how much I missed her. For the
first time, I felt better, like everything would be OK.
I was really thinking about running away that Friday night. I didn't
think anyone wanted me around, so I was going to run. I look back
now, and know I would have regretted it all my life, and may have
ended up worse off, possibly in jail.
Just when I wanted to disappear out of hurt and embarrassment,
someone helped me reach out to others. Thank you, Lauren, your lesson
has stayed with me ever since.
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If a child or nearly-grown child near you
needs someone to listen to them,
You be the one: Listen.
Then be Lauren: comfort that growing child.
----------==========----------o----------==========----------
In our last story, "Artist in Residence" (#745), David remembered how
his tea breaks on a very tough job in Scotland were enlivened by a
co-worker who painted seascapes -- on a canvas held by engineering
clamps, using a piece of scrap metal for a palette.
Ed in Montana was impressed with the story: "I've worked blue collar
jobs most of my life. David's story of finding a man with extraordinary
talent hidden under his coveralls is not as unusual as some would think.
There are a lot of 'diamonds in the rough' in blue collar jobs. Some men
are geniuses and understand complicated math, some create, for instance,
incredibly crafted decorative knives out of metal from the scrap bin,
some are incredibly kind and understanding with other people.
Stereotypes are just that; there is incredible talent to be found in the
abilities of many blue collar workers."
Bonnie in Minnesota agreed, "Thank goodness for the people who can make
something good out of a bad situation and thank goodness for those who
'get it' when they see it, like the author."
"You Never Know Who" (#744), our previous story, told of a chance
meeting of two Vietnam Veteran US Marines in a VA hospital waiting room.
(If you missed it, it's here: http://www.HeroicStories.com/archives.html
. We requested comments from readers about PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder) in all its forms.
Frank (location unknown) responds, "My brother-in-law spent his tour in
Viet Nam as a Navy medic. My sister told me he had night terrors, but
refused to talk about his experiences and trauma. I watched him recede
into himself and become unable to work. Now he can can only sit and
watch TV. The point is to listen, and encourage these individuals to
talk so that maybe they can get this horror outside of themselves. Maybe
then it won't be so terrifying, and they can live with themselves. My
heart goes out to the hidden heroes that suffer this un-seen trauma."
Of course war isn't the only cause of PTSD. "Gyppo" in the UK relates,
"Many years ago I was blown across the room in a gas explosion. It gave
me nightmares for years. But that pales into insignificance compared to
when my baby son died of unexplained cot death. At the time, I just had
to get on with life. But... That was over 20 years ago and sometimes the
least little trigger lets the memories out of the 'locked room' where I
tucked them away. I want to physically assault people who are cruel to
children and don't appreciate the precious little lives they treat so
casually. Fortunately, it never lasts long, but it's a rough ride whilst
it does." Good for you for holding on during your "rough ride", Gyppo.
Irene in Greece remembers, "I was a 6-year-old in Athens when WWII
started, and the air-raids were frequent. Almost 70 years later,
whenever I hear a siren I still freeze! I know what these soldiers are
talking about when they say what loud noises do to them. I can't believe
we're still having such horrific wars all around the world... have we
learned nothing yet?"
Arlene from California sent an example of secondary PTSD. Arlene: "I was
an extremely thin child in the late 40's early 50's, so many of our
neighbours assumed that I was a fellow concentration camp survivor. So I
heard many stories that generally were not told to those who hadn't been
in the camps. As a result, I was so traumatized by the whole holocaust
experience that even 50 years later, a story in TV or in the movies had
me sobbing hysterically. In my older age, I can tolerate some story
telling, but not much, and a recent trip to Yad Vashem (the holocaust
memorial) in Israel, reduced me to a completely wrung out rag."
To come full circle to today's story, we have someone simply listening
to a young man who'd just had an experience traumatic enough he
"wondered if I had died". Lauren listened, allowed him to process his
traumatic humiliation and general sadness via crying, and then comforted
our author with positive words. As HeroicStories readers, let's be
present for those around us when they need to process tough experiences,
and comfort them in the simple ways available to all of us.
Sheila Crosby, Comments Editor
Joyce Schowalter, Publisher
Co-Conspirators to Make the World a Better Place
COMMENTS about stories are always welcome -- please include your first
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last updated: May 2005