Our field becomes more and more complex every year. New theories evolve, approaches are articulated and writings or trainings combine the two into sometimes extremely complex instruction about what to do or how to do it.

And this is good — because helping other people, and doing it our way, needs to evolve, become more refined and efficient.

But we must never forget the little things. The momentary look of invitation, the touch or reassurance, the gesture of inclusion. For our work is, ultimately, composed of the little things, the brief daily moments within which connection, engagement and, ultimately, healing occur.

I am sitting with a Child and Youth Care Worker. We are talking about little moments and she is making notes as we go. At one point she drops her pencil and it rolls across the table falling to the floor between us. I reach down and pick it up.

“See,” she says. “This is one of those moments I was talking about. I dropped the pencil, you picked it up and gave it to me. A little thing.”

“So?” I ask.

“So, if you were a young person I was working with, this would be a choice point, an opportunity. I can decide to just say thank-you, as I might with anyone. Or I can choose to acknowledge your action differently.”

“Like how?”

“Well,” she says, “how about this.” She looks at me as she speaks. “You know, a lot of people would have just have assumed I should pick up the pencil myself. But you did it almost, it seems, without thinking. I like that part of you which is so thoughtful of others.”

“Good point,” I say. “And maybe here is another.”

“I notice how you used that little moment to make your point – in this case, a teaching point. I admire how you do that so naturally.”

She laughs. We connect.

Little moments.
 

Thom