Automatic Flusher

 

I remember one time many years ago when I accompanied a five-year-old to the bathroom.

She was doing her business when the automatic flusher flushed.

It scared her half to death and real tears were shed.

I don’t like automatic flushers.

They often interrupt you rather than giving you the time and space that you need.

And they are loud.

And they are forceful.

I think sometimes we are automatic flushers.

When someone is sharing difficult thoughts and emotions with us, we cut them off and clean them up before they are finished or given the time that they need to process.

We mean well.

But in our haste, and often discomfort, we rush to a conclusion when often we need just to sit in silence.

I don’t know about you,

But I don’t want to be an automatic flusher.