No Small Thing

I called a sixteen-year-old and his mom today.

He’d done the right, hard thing years ago when he had been ten, comforting an eleven-year-old girl through a hellish situation, and he had done the right, hard thing again that week, showing up for his childhood friend in court.

Years and miles away had changed much, but the old light of an intermediate school friendship shone through as he stepped away from the double doors and the witness stand. She stood in the hallway, seventeen years’ old in a blue-patterned dress, tears dripping silently down her face as he again offered her a hug and a word.  His mother stood silent, bright-eyed, watching the teens comfort each other; no more complaint of his stomachache or any other physiological concern offered as she tried to protect her own child from the courtroom.

It had been no small thing that her son had done, and I wanted to make sure he knew it. Somewhere at some point, he had done something kind and good that led to another child believing in him enough to share her darkest secret.  Somewhere at some point, he had found the words to comfort her, to build upon that initial trust, and to aid her.

My eyes had met his mother’s over the teenagers’ heads, and I tilted my own head in acknowledgment. Her son, whom she had raised, had done what so many adults had not.           

Now, two days later, trial complete, I wondered at what words I could use to convey the significance of that young man’s courage. By showing up despite his anxiety, despite vomiting that day and the day prior, despite dread of the unknown, he had set himself up to be the girl’s hero twice over.  He needed to know that showing up despite one’s fear and worry is never a small thing; he needed to know that he had done a man’s work, ages ten and sixteen respectively, when he made his friend’s voice heard.  Silently, I prayed that he would remember that there are no small things in life, particularly when done with love or compassion.

I took a deep breath in the moment before he answered; at sixteen, he may not grasp the enormity of what he and the girl had done, but I suspected his mom would.

We had received the final verdict just hours before that call. After a six-minute deliberation, the jury spoke clear: the courage of children had shut away a predator for life that week.

And that too is no small thing.