Scoop Them Up

One of the 500,032 things I’ve learned from Dr. Karyn Purvis is the importance of the comforting hug. My instinct when I see a child burst into tears is to scoop him or her up in a strong, steady hug. We have some societal wiring, though, that causes us to pause politely instead. Dr. Purvis’s wisdom and research have given me the confidence to go with my instinct.

Yesterday in our children’s ministry, we had three moments when a child burst into tears. Each of my lovely, well-meaning adult helpers paused uncertainly. I scooped the kids up (with one exception—details in a moment). I’ll describe each of the scenarios:

Each week, I bring something special to hold out as a bribe for good behavior during the main story time. This week it was balloons (all the same color of course!). We had one little girl who was brand new (and I think slightly younger than the rest of the class—I teach four year olds). Her balloon popped, and she burst into tears. I didn’t rush over with a high pitched voice, flapping my arms like a startled hen. Believe it or not, that’s important. I walked quickly over, dropped to the ground, and held her. I spoke lowly and slowly, talking through the fact that the noise had been sudden and loud. Another teacher blew up a replacement balloon, though I think the noise was the real trigger. And I just held her. She kept crying, though she had calmed down some by the time her caregiver came to pick her up (the balloon popped just before pickup time). She had been scared; steady, comforting arms told her she was safe and my calm voice showed her that I sympathized with her fear.

The second episode involved a boy who was also new to the classroom. He and his twin brother were there and were pretty rough and tumble little fellas, though very sweet. This little guy tripped and fell on a chair wrong, hurting himself in a gender-specific way. He fell onto the floor and burst into tears. I went over to him and stroked his hair, but he clearly didn’t need to be picked up and probably would have been in more pain if I had pulled him into a sitting position. So I just stroked his hair and let him air his grievances about the chair’s treachery and he calmed down quickly. My presence let him know he was cared for, and my listening showed him that his pain wasn’t being ignored.

The third moment happened when another new little girl tripped and twisted her ankle. She was clearly in pain; I went over and scooped her into my lap. Again, I went with “lowly and slowly” speech, sympathizing with her twisted ankle and saying we could ask her mom to ice it when she got home (this too happened just before pickup). She cried hard, but calmed fairly quickly.

So what’s the lesson in all this? When a child bursts into tears, scoop them up. The ones who don’t want/need to be held will let you know clearly, either by leaning away as you approach or by squirming out after a brief hug. Or you’ll just kind of be able to sense they don’t need it, as I did with the boy. Don’t swoop down on them—that can seem scary. Get to their level first, then scoop them up. Also, don’t fuss at or over them. Speak very calmly, in a low, reassuring tone, and don’t pile up words. Try to avoid saying things like “you’re fine” or “you’re okay.” They don’t feel that they are in that moment, and it's better not to rewrite their feelings. Basically, just listen and soothe.

At one point during TBRI training, Dr. Purvis was talking about the importance of holding kids, especially kids from hard places (trauma, abuse, neglect). One of the participants raised her hand and asked, “How long do you hold them?” Dr. Purvis replied, “As long as it takes.” In every case I’ve ever seen, the kid will hop up when they’ve had enough comforting. But for kids with deeper hurts, kids from hard places, it may take a long time for them to feel comforted. Dr. Purvis dictates that we hold them for as long as it takes for them to calm down, to feel safe, to feel loved—even if it takes hours. That’s a pretty stunning pronouncement to those of us who were raised to “shake it off” or “be a man” or “be brave.” But think about how much time babies spend being held. They are held 80-90% of their waking lives for a solid 6-12 months. Obviously, you are not going to hold your ten year old adopted or foster child on your hip for 80% of her waking time. But if you think of the holding she didn’t get, or the contact that was abusive when it should have been nurturing, your protests at holding her for 20 minutes at a stretch should melt away. And honestly, I doubt you’ll ever look back on your life and say to yourself, “Gee, I wish I had hugged my children less.” =)

And if you feel like a softie for scooping up the hurting children, simply remember the greatest example of all: “Taking a child, He set him before them, and taking him in His arms, He said to them, ‘Whoever receives one child like this in My name receives Me; and whoever receives Me does not receive Me, but Him who sent Me.’” (Mark 9:36-37)