Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Acts of kindness are never random to the recipient

So, a few days ago, I was walking out of a grocery store after picking up my Sunday paper. A little boy and a woman were walking in. I'm not sure why, but the little boy made eye contact with me, smiled and waved.

I don't know why I caught his eye, but I smiled and waved right back. As I made the rest of my way to my car, something made me think about what it would be like if I hadn't responded to him. I wondered if he would feel slighted. I wondered if maybe his smile would have turned into a frown. It made me consider how the tiniest show of kindness to someone--sometimes even someone we don't know can make or break a moment.

That same night, I was watching the HBO series "True Blood." In this week's episode, Sookie is attending a friend's funeral. The friend's widow has been called to speak, but she isn't ready. Because she is a telepath, Sookie hears in Arlene's mind that she isn't ready to say goodbye and she isn't ready to speak. Normally Sookie's invasion into her mind would not be welcome, but when Sookie stands up to speak, the small act of kindness gives Arlene a few more moments to collect herself before she has to tell her husband goodbye.

Sometimes the tiniest blossoms bloom the brightest.
Waving to a child, giving someone a reprieve--these are small acts of kindness. And sometimes that's all any of us needs.

I've written about the up and mostly down times with which my family and I have  been challenged lately, but it's really good to acknowledge the kindnesses along the way.

We recently shared with family and friends that we are finally expecting a child. It finally feels safe enough to talk about it.

 I had been wanting to reach out to a friend, whom I thought might be able to share some good advice about maternity clothes and things I thought only she would understand. I haven't been the easiest friend in the last few months, so I worried that I would be one of the last people she might want to help. But out of the blue, she reached out to me, and though a small gesture to her, her invitation to share her shopping secrets with me absolutely made my day.

I recently started working with a new team. And while I have been awkwardly working through my transition, this group of people has not only accepted me--warts and all, but they have made me feel so welcome, and like they could not be happier to have me. I was scared to bond again, but these women have made it impossible for me to do otherwise.

As my husband and I face a challenging move at an already crazy time, we know very little about what the next few weeks will hold in store. At moments, we worry that we will end up living apart for a brief period of time until some pressing issues are settled. One of my new teammates extended the offer of a place for me to stay should some of the moving parts prove too difficult to overcome.

This is a person who has known me for just over two months. I could not help but tear up at her offer. I know she has dealt with many challenging moves and her own struggles, and yet without any reservation, she extended a kindness I could never have imagined. And she did it like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Certainly the offer of a place to stay is more magnanimous than smiling and waving to a child, but the result of any kindness is immeasurable. When you extend a kindness to someone--no matter how big or small--you can't know what that kindness might mean to that person.

I don't know what that little boy saw in me, but it cost me nothing to return his cheerful greeting. And when I think of the kindnesses that have been extended to me, I know that a smile and a wave seems trivial. But how often are we able to brighten someone's day or someone's outlook in the midst of whatever storm they are trying to push through--and without deep personal cost?

It makes me think it's a muscle worth stretching.

Days later, I still see that little boy's face, and his smile makes me just as happy every time I do. I hope, even if he doesn't remember my face, he remembers that I took a second to smile and wave back. And hopefully he somehow knows I needed his smile as much as he needed mine.

Ordinary Miracle--Sarah McLachlan



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