Kindness When Things Go Badly

"The words of kindness are more healing to a drooping heart than balm or honey."
~ Sarah Fielding

Imagine that you are the only adult performing in a children's music recital.  You wonder how you agreed to this -- again.  But you practice.  More than usual.  You master the hard nugget.  So even though performing terrifies you, you tell yourself that you can do it.  That you won't forget the entire song as you did the first time.  This time, your music will be right in front of you.  And it's a duet with your teacher who can cover up most mistakes. 

The recital day arrives.  You want to practice at the rehearsal venue, but you don't want anyone to hear you.  No worries, says a very resourceful 6th grader; she tells you that she will practice loudly and then no one will hear you.  So you practice, softly at first and then louder.  A sweet high school student tells you it sounds good. 

And then you go on stage.  The lights are bright; they feel hot.  You begin playing.  You lose your place.  The notes are there, right in front of you.  But they don't seem to help.  You lose your place again.  You lose track of how often you have lost your place.  And then it's over. 

You go back to your seat and try to think of all the things that could have been worse, that you could have messed up as badly as this seems.  You are so shell-shocked that you can't even get up to take photos of your children performing.  When the recital is over, you just want to run and hide.  You don't want anyone telling you that you played well -- because you didn't.  But then, the waves of kindness roll in...  Several people approach you and compliment your courage.  (Not exactly what you're feeling.)  Some lie and say that you did well.  (You didn't pass out -- maybe that counts.)  And then you receive a text from another mother with photos.  You cringe because you imagine that they are of you.  And a couple are, but they are not so bad.  And then the best gift ever:  She took great photos of your children.

Back in the car, you can't even speak.  You are on your way to dinner with another family; the other mother arranged it.  It's a restaurant you haven't been to.  The table is perfect; it is set off in a corner with windows on two sides and feels as though you are in the chef's kitchen.  The food is delicious.  The two families play a guessing game.  You laugh and you forget.