Clothe yourselves with kindness.
Friday afternoon I found myself waiting in the customer service line at Home Depot to return a $7 piece of brass plumbing pipe. I had waited in line so long I began wondering how much of my time was worth the $7 that would be refunded to my account. A man got in line behind me, but I really didn’t pay him much attention until a woman in a motorized chair came up behind him and started saying “excuse me,” each time louder than the last. I looked at the man who was staying in place and blocking the way, and his eyes were glued to his phone and his ears were captured by the AirPods firmly set in place. I don’t think the woman noticed this, so she got louder, and louder, but the man never heard her. About that time I heard “next” indicating it was time for me to step to the desk for my $7 return, but just before I stepped to the counter I touched him on the arm and then directed his attention to the woman who was trying to pass by. I thought he would quickly step aside and let her pass, but instead they began exchanging heated words. As I was completing my return, I heard him shout to the woman in the chair “and I sure as hell don’t care about you.” The woman behind the counter looked at me in disgust at what had just happened, and I knew the way she felt.
The night before I was at Home Depot, Beverley and I attended a funeral at Huguenot Road Baptist Church. One of Beverley’s best friend’s mother passed away, and we were there to support the family. During the funeral there was a time for several individuals to share comments and memories about the deceased, and they were all beautifully done. A granddaughter and great-granddaughter (mother and middle school daughter) stepped to the pulpit to share their comments, and the older of the two went first. When it came time for the middle schooler to read what she had written, she was overcome by grief and shyness and nervousness, and all she could do was bury her face in her mother’s clothes. After a few seconds of encouragement, the mother simply read what her daughter had written.
Later in the service when the pastor stepped to the pulpit for his homily, I was struck by what he said. “Kate,” he spoke to the young girl who had been at the pulpit with her mother, “you are such a talented writer. What you wrote about your great-grandmother is excellent, you are a gifted writer. And I’m going to pray that you continue to use your gift of writing, for your gifts are abundant.” What he said impacted me because it was so kind. My already damp eyes watered even more because of that simple, intentional, gracious demonstration of kindness.
Thinking about the funeral and the trip to Home Depot I have been reminded: we all have opportunities each day for kindness or cruelty. I have those opportunities, and you have those opportunities. Maybe we wouldn’t be so rude as the man at Home Depot, but we could too easily fail to take the opportunity to display the gracious kindness as Pastor Bob Lee did at the funeral. There is power in kindness. It can change our families, our church, our community, it will change us. We all have the opportunity, choose wisely.