By Brenda Black
I don't set out to do good deeds for
the applause. I'm just a natural people helper. I'll jump to aid an
elderly person or help a harried parent corral a wandering toddler.
I'm quick to lend a hand and don't give much thought to what it will
cost me. Oh, I suppose if some overly educated, analytically astute
psychologist wanted to pick it apart, they'd probably diagnose my
behavior by saying I do it in order to get something out of it. And
maybe, deep down, I do. I sure feel better when I see a look of
relief or appreciation. I sleep better at night knowing I did the
right thing by a fellow human being. It makes me happy making others
happy.
Though I don't have an agenda, and
it's more of an automatic response, I have to ask myself : Why does
it bother me so much when people do not reciprocate kindness or
demonstrate basic good manners? And why does it give me such a lift
when people react pleasantly? Several days at the state fair is a
great place for such a sociological study and self analysis.
My first moments greeting the public
as president of the Missouri CattleWomen at the Beef Showcase were
met with unexpected kindness. One gentleman started a conversation by
asking how things really were going in the beef business. I answered
honestly that it's a little rough this year with a drought and high
input costs. He went on to show appreciation for the hard work of
farmers and ranchers. He told me he knew where his food came from and
understood how important agriculturalists are to his life. Finally,
this kind person actually blessed me -- literally. And I was
genuinely touched by his sincerity.
After several hours of constant people
traffic, I took a brief break and strolled through one of the nearby
buildings. Ahead of me was a lady pushing an elderly woman in a wheel
chair. I quick-stepped past them to get to the door and pushed it
open and held it. Neither said a word nor smiled or nodded. And on
their heels, a string of 20 people took advantage of my donated door
duty. All ages and sizes passed over the threshold and not a single
"Thank You." I waited till the parade dwindled and then
closed the door and headed on my way, feeling baffled by the lack of
common courtesy.
My faith in humanity was restored on
yet another volunteer detail. I was the door greeter at the Beef
House. Granted, when you are welcoming folks in for a mouth-watering
steak, they tend to be in a better mood. But even when the line was
half a block long, I met one after another who spoke kindly, smiled
brightly and returned gratitude when I assisted them.
Maybe it's simply being observant. To
the masses, this gray-haired, slender man seemed invisible. To me he
looked like he was in pain. I was right, and stopped to ask if he
needed assistance. He thanked me profusely for caring.
It's not difficult to be considerate.
It doesn't take a whole lot of time. But it does take heart. Kindness
is as old as history. Boaz was a perfect example of such timeless
tenderness. “The LORD bless him!” Naomi said to her
daughter-in-law. “He has not stopped showing his kindness to the
living and the dead.” (Ruth 2:20)
I was blessed by kindness, drained by
indifference and energized, even after 12 hours of hospitality one
day at a fair, purely because of the way people treated me. So I
think I'll keep on doing what comes naturally. Hopefully it helps
somebody else have a better day.
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