I posted this on Facebook last night, and was surprised by how many comments it got. This wasn't about me--it was about her.
Today we stopped at a thrift store in Morgantown on the way home (yeah, I know, what's new?). There were no shopping carts available--the store was pretty busy. There were, however, a couple plastic baskets, so I picked one up. Someone said there were some carts in the parking lot, so I handed my basket to a lady who was also looking for a cart--she looked to be Muslim or perhaps from India, I'm not so good at telling where someone is from.
I went out in the parking lot and found a cart, and when I came back inside she was waiting for me. Someone checking out had given her a cart so she didn't need the basket. I put it back for her, and then she touched my arm.
"I tell you something?" she asked.
Her accent was pretty strong so it took me a moment to understand her. I wasn't sure what she meant, thought perhaps I was going to get a preaching or something.
"Sure," I said, mentally steeling myself for the "do you know Jesus" speech.
"You are a good person. You are very kind. A good person." She laid her hand on my arm. "Thank you. You are very good." There were tears in her eyes.
I was stunned. All I had done was give her a shopping basket. Not a big thing. But now I wonder, what had this woman experienced that so small an act should have impacted her so strongly? It was so small a thing, not worth a comment even. And yet moved her to tears.
Kindness is so easy, and costs nothing. This woman humbled me, and reminded me once again of the importance of just....being kind.
I am still thinking about her this morning, her kind face, and her eyes. Especially her eyes. She will be in my mind a long time, pushing me to bite back the frustration when shopping lines are long and clerks are slow, when someone cuts in front of me in line, when the telemarketer calls.
Little things. They make such a difference in the end.
Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.
It is often the small acts of kindness that mean the most. Sometimes just a simple thank you.
ReplyDeleteYour story is proof you just never know. All we can do is lead with kindness as you say.
ReplyDeleteI used to look after a Muslim boy. His father was a big, loud, friendly man who used to come to take his son home at the weekends. Although he often arrived at inconvenient times we always enjoyed his brief visits as they were usually times of great laughter. Then one evening he arrived in a very quiet and subdued mood and, instead of coming in and throwing himself into the nearest armchair, stood quietly waiting at the door. "Come on in, Samir," I said. He stood there awkwardly for a moment then gave me a huge smile "Of course, of course!" he said. When he left he shook my hand warmly and said "This is a good place for my son".
ReplyDelete"What was that all about?" I asked my colleague after he'd gone. She reminded me that just a few days before bombs had been planted on London buses in a terrorist plot and he'd obviously feared what kind of reception he might get.
Like you I hadn't done anything of note but it made me think and stayed with me.
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DeleteJohn, thank you for that story. I often wondered how Muslims, and all middle Easterners, felt and managed after tragedies like that and the Twin Towers and other events. Here, the blame doesn't see to attach to young white males after one of their number perpetrates a terrible act. But those of color or other ethnicity, yes. People paint them all with the same brush.
ReplyDeleteWell now there are tears in my eyes. A heartbreaking story, and a very important reminder.
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