Hadassah Shvalb
“Shalom, Chavi! This is Mrs. Cohen, Libi's mother.”
Chavi held her breath and even blushed with excitement.
“You came over yesterday and asked whether I wanted to send my four-year-old daughter to your summer extracurricular activity group, remember?”
Of course she remembered! Chavi was turning twelve that year, and she had long dreamed of organizing a summer group for the neighborhood children. For quite some time, she had found it difficult to concentrate on anything besides a million ideas and interesting projects for how to fill the time: drawing, songs, games, and prizes. But, of course, first of all her group needed participants…
The previous week, she had made attractive notices and colored them with bright markers, then hung them at all the bus stops and on all the houses in the neighborhood. Three mothers called and signed up their children, but that was far fewer girls than the group had originally been planned for. So Chavi decided to advertise it by simply knocking on her neighbors' doors.
“That's a very good idea,” one of the neighbors said with a smile. “Though I'm not sure whether your group's dates overlap with our trip… You know, I'll discuss it with my husband and call you back.”
Chavi drew a large question mark beside Libi Cohen's name and hoped that even if Libi's mother decided not to send her, another girl would be found to take her place.
Now that Libi Cohen's mother was calling, it was no wonder Chavi was so excited—perhaps Libi's mother had decided to sign up her daughter after all?
“Chavi, thank you,” came Mrs. Cohen's pleasant voice over the phone. “I'm sure your group will be very special, but unfortunately its dates overlap with our time away. I'm very sorry that Libi won't be able to join you, and in any case I wish you success. And don't forget to call us next year!”
Chavi said goodbye and hung up. She was, of course, a little disappointed, but despite that she was in an excellent mood.
“Who called?” her mother asked. She was just as enthusiastic about the summer group project as Chavi, constantly finding interesting ideas for her, offering advice, and, of course, praying for its success no less than her daughter.
“It was our neighbor, Mrs. Cohen,” Chavi replied. “She called to tell me that she won't be able to send Libi to my group this year.”
“Really?” her mother asked in surprise. “Looking at your face, you would think you'd received a yes!”
Chavi explained: “You know, Mom, when other mothers call me about the summer group, they usually call to say that they've thought it over and decided their little daughter would be happy there and that they should sign her up. But Mrs. Cohen, as you can see, has no need for my group, and yet she called me, and it was very pleasant to talk to her.”
Her mother could not help noticing the sparkle in Chavi's eyes and once again felt admiration for her neighbor, Mrs. Cohen.
“You know, Mom, she told me she had discussed it with her husband, and overall they liked the idea. She took the time to call and tell me her decision so I wouldn't have to agonize over not knowing or wait too long. And besides, I was pleased that she thanked me for approaching her.”
A few days later, Chavi's mother met Mrs. Cohen at the bus stop and could not help expressing her admiration: “It was so kind of you to call my Chavi. It helped her feel grown-up and important.”
Libi's mother was simply surprised: “What's there to say? Why shouldn't I have called? In my view, everyone should keep their promises, and of course I couldn't fail to thank her for all her efforts in organizing the group.”
The bus was delayed, and the women sat down on a bench to continue their pleasant conversation. “My husband often likes to repeat Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky's words: ‘There is no difference between the soul of an adult and that of a child—neither in quality nor in size.’” Mrs. Cohen smiled again: “The fact that Chavi is still a child is no reason to treat her with less respect.”
Mrs. Cohen's words stayed in Chavi's mother's mind all day. She had rarely thought before about the fact that the commandment “do not hate your fellow” applies to more than just adults.
It is forbidden to hurt children! We must treat them with proper respect and consideration. Words that are negative to begin with—those that can offend, hurt, humiliate, or frighten—are forbidden! And it makes absolutely no difference whom we are speaking to—what their age is, how they are related to us, or what education they have.
We should try to refrain from comments such as: “Look at Chaim! Ha-ha, he's put his pajamas on inside out again!” or “If you don't stop talking right now, I'll hit you hard, and at least then you'll have a reason to cry.” Another example of destructive words: “Just look at what you brought back from the store! Why do you manage to buy completely the wrong things every time?”
Let us simply remember the immense potential in everything we say and our obligation to choose our expressions carefully. Weigh every word before it leaves your mouth: will it be a sparkling diamond or a sharp knife?
Translated by A. Schwalb. Based on material from an issue of “Mishmeret HaShalom”