Doing the right thing

As we sat down at a table and ordered our food, my greetings to Efe and his mother were ignored. Shrugging off the snub, Ali Adem and I sat together and talked about his day at school. The café owner and Efe's mother were having a conversation about Efe. "Why does he always act up so much?" the café owner asked Efe's mother, as Efe listened in from the table where he sat. His mother just shook her head, as if at a loss to explain her son's behavior. Soon, Efe left the café and went down the street by himself as his mother finished her tea. She then went to the door and looked down the street. Not seeing Efe, she went out and searched for him. Soon she was back at the café and spoke quietly to the owner, who quickly put on his coat and left the café. Not knowing what was transpiring, Ali Adem and I finished our food and left. As we were crossing the street, Efe's mother passed us, obviously upset. "What's happened?" I asked. Pausing, she said: "I can't find Efe. He has disappeared." Before I could offer to help search for him, she walked off.

Looking down at Ali Adem, who was holding my hand and waiting, I said, "We should help look for Efe on the way home." His eyes widened as he replied: "But, mommy, Efe's mother is always rude to you. She doesn't even say hello to you in the café. And, she won't let Efe and I be friends any more. So, why should we help her look for him?" Reaching down, and stroking his face, I explained that if I ever couldn't find him, I would want everyone to help me look for him, even people who were mean to me. We would look for Efe because it was the right thing to do. With a sigh, he shook his head in agreement and said, "Sometimes doing the right thing is not any fun."

Between the café and our house is a small park where I had often seen Efe playing with football with other children. I decided to begin our search there, thinking that even if he was not there, some of the other children might know where he had disappeared to. As we entered the park, we spotted Efe on the football pitch, standing all alone. "Efe!" Ali Adem called out, "Your mother is looking for you and she is really mad!" With a startled look on his face, Efe ran past us, saying he was going to his home, which was just around the corner. We waited until we were sure he had indeed gone to wait by his front door, and then I phoned his mother to let her know that her son was safe and waiting for her at their house. I couldn't tell if she was relieved, surprised or simply irritated by my call. She replied, "Fine," and as I began to wish her a happy bayram, she hung up on me. Irked by her lack of manners, but giving her the benefit of the doubt and chalking it up to concern and worry about her child, we continued on our way home.

"Mommy, do you think Efe's mother was glad that we found Efe?" Ali Adem asked, looking up at me. "I don't know, sweetie." I answered, "But, we did the right thing by looking for him." As we walked hand-in-hand through the darkening streets, Ali Adem mulled this over. As we neared our home, he stopped for a moment and very seriously announced: "Sometimes the right thing is hard to do. I'm glad, though, that we helped her, even though she is mean to you. Finding Efe made me feel warm inside, just like how I feel when I think about how much you and Baba love me. I think I'm proud of us for helping." Smiling at his earnest face, I reached down and hugged my son tightly to my side and told him just how much I loved him and how proud I was of him for understanding why we had gone out of our way to help someone else.

Sometimes we have to swallow our own pride in order to do the right thing. Even if we receive no recognition or thanks, our actions are important. It is through our words and actions that our children learn from us. My hope is that Ali Adem will remember this lesson about compassion.