We can all envision this 5 p.m. scene on a typical Tuesday evening.

“Mommy! Mommmyyyy!! MOMMY!!!!” The cries escalate with each passing second. You put down the mixing spoon. Dinner will have to wait.

“Mommy, Mommy,” your daughter wails. “He won’t let me into the bedroom. It’s my room, too!! He slammed the door on me, locked it and won’t let me in.”

You can do this. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

You understand her. It’s not right to be locked out of one’s bedroom by a brother. A room that both share.

But you also understand your son. He had a very hard day at school. He’s a sensitive soul, and his emotions can overwhelm him at times. He’s found running to the safety of his room to be the best coping mechanism. In such a state, he cannot even explain or reason with his sister. He just needs to run to the quiet and solitude of his room to regroup.

I experienced such an incident recently with my little ones.

I looked at both of my arguing children standing before me. One felt deeply hurt by the other. I understood each of their frustrations. No, my child wasn’t managing emotions in the most mature and effective of ways; this child definitely still had a lot to learn.

But I love both of these precious children of mine in the way that only a mother can. Each one is my “only” child, in that each one is my whole world. As such, I can feel the hurt of both kids—the “initiator” as well as the “mistreated” one. And I can also easily discern the former’s behavior as external and transient; I know with absolute certainty that he is good and whole and oh-so-lovable at his core.

Fueled by the innate maternal compassion that fills my heart, I tried pulling aside the child who felt slighted. “I see how hurt you feel,” I began. “It’s so hard, I know.” I paused. “But let me explain: Your sibling is hurting right now. He has emotions that he cannot control at this moment. And so, he has let it out on you in this way by closing the door. Was it right? No. But when we understand where it is coming from, it can help us manage our hurt feelings a little better.”

I continued: “Your sibling loves you. Trust me; I know that with absolute certainty. But right now, let’s give him space to work through his difficult emotions. I am so proud of you for trying so hard to look past the hurt; to understand that your sibling truly is good and loves you dearly.”

Then I hugged both of them. I love each of them so much. It made my heart fill with joy to see my children exert real effort to embrace their sibling even on a hard day.

… And then it hit me.

I am sometimes that hurt, frustrated, angry child. And so are you. So are all of us. After all, who goes through life without experiencing shame, hurt and slight? (Just a word of explanation: Severe cases are beyond the scope of this article. I am not referring to such cases, but rather, the day-to-day frustrations and challenges we all experience in our human interactions.)

Imagine if we could hear G‑d’s voice through our own instinctively deep and unconditional parental compassion. Imagine if we could hear G‑d talking to us after a hard, hurtful encounter with another. “I love you both from the Essence of My Being,” we may hear G‑d softly call out. “Each of you is my only child. My whole world. I understand your hurt and pain. At the same time, know that your sibling, your flesh and blood, is hurting, too. And I hurt for you both. Yes, your sibling has a lot of internal work to do. But I, as Your All-Knowing and All-Loving Parent, also see the goodness and wholeness at their core. I am so proud of you for trying so hard to look past the hurt, to understand that your sibling truly is good and loves you dearly.”

M’bsari echeza Eloka: “From our earthly experiences and interactions, we can come to know and understand G‑d.”

I know the compassion of a parent in the most visceral of ways. I know what it means to love each of my children with my very essence. And with that, I now better understand G‑d’s perspective when one of His children feels hurt by another.

I hope to try and hear His compassionate voice the next time I feel “locked out of a room” by another. I hope to feel His hug. The hug of validation, understanding and urging to look past the temporary and fleeting, and into the eternal goodness of my very own flesh and blood.

… Oh dear! I hear my children arguing again. Wish me luck!