I’m in Chicago, about to board a train to Grand Rapids. I took a Lyft to Union Station and entered at Canal Street, an entrance that brings you onto a landing where you choose escalator or stairs to go down to where the trains are.
I came through the doors with two suitcases and walked over to the escalator where a young girl stood, her back to me. She had long brown hair. I’d put her at ten years old. She stood at the edge, the steps moving under her unmoving feet.
When I came up behind her, she turned around and looked up at me with tears in her eyes. Her face was red. Her lips were trembling.
“Hi sweetie, can I help you?” I asked. “Want me to take your bag for you?”
She nodded yes. I noticed the man who was with her had already gone down. He was waiting at the bottom, looking up at her.
“OK, I’ll be right behind you, okay?”
She looked up at me, a complete stranger, and asked, “Can I take the stairs?”
“Of course you can take the stairs. I’ll meet you at the bottom with your bag. Hey, you’re okay,” I told her, stepping down. “You’re doing fine.”
She shuffled down quickly, beating me to the bottom. Both she and her father, I presume, thanked me.
And I just wanted to have a minute where I could hold her shoulders, look into her eyes, and say, “You’re okay. We all have fears, all of us, I’m terrified of snakes and bats and rats and all kind of things. You’re not less than anybody, do you get that, dear child? You’re perfect.”
I would’ve hugged her if that wouldn’t have been weird. And I would’ve told her she’s strong and brave even to try that damn escalator.
All I got out was, “Hey, you’re okay. You’re strong,” and we went our separate ways.
I’m not sure why I’m so emotional. Is it because of mere sympathy and compassion? Because in her tearful face I see my own, so afraid of so many things? Is it because in that moment nothing, nothing else on planet earth mattered to me except a little girl who was afraid to go down an escalator?
I don’t know, but I won’t soon forget her. And I wish her well, and I hope her dad is not disappointed but full of love for her.
Thank you for reading this. By doing so you’re sharing in the moment with me, and I’m grateful for that.
Wow, what an inspiring story. I became terrified of escalators even before I couldn’t use them. (Have you seen the doozy at ATL that takes you to baggage claim?) Now I fear falling. Still we’re all afraid of something. Your story reminds us to be brave and to be compassionate. And maybe, to sometimes take the stairs.
Nikki, thanks so much for reading my post and commenting. I really appreciate it.
Thanks for sharing this powerful moment.
Thank YOU for reading about it! Means a lot to me.
No doubt God put you there, right then, for her, and your words will remain and grow in her. No doubt He also put her there for you. What a joy to watch what God will do through her to you! Thank you for sharing so vulnerably. God bless you with peace and hope in the memory.
Thank you, Robyn!
This touched my heart. I needed to read this. I have been both that terrified, embarrassed little girl, and the adult with a heart overflowing with love and compassion, feeling too emotional to speak. You may not have been able to say all the words you would have liked to tell her, but what you said to her was precious.
Thank you, Linda!!