Marked by kindness

There is a girl who is sweet and kind, when I think about her; it reminds me of how much I admire her kindness, and I realize that I don't know too many who admire that about me. I don't think of the world as being a kind or gentle place. So, it makes an impression on me, when I see someone who is particularly good at kindness. It makes me jealous, because I know that I have work to do. Not that I mind the work; my uncle taught me when I was a boy, "find a master, and steal everything you can from them," of course he was talking about tradesmen, but I have stolen it and now apply it to my faith.

When I think about the people who have made an impact on my life: I remember kindness. I remember my second grade teacher exuberantly telling me what a good job I had done on my handwriting exercise. Aside from the fact that no one would believe it, looking at my handwriting now; why does that stick out so vividly in my experience at school? She was kind to me. She saw a boy who needed encouragement, and she reached out to him.

You know, as time passes, the things that I possessed that had such sentimental value to me, mean less and less. If I have a prized collection now, it is the memories of those who were kind to me. Dr. George Crawford (one of the masters from whom I have stolen) always greeted me with a smile, a handshake and this phrase: "Good to see you, boy." What was so moving about it was that he meant it. I cannot speak as to what it meant to him, but I do know that it meant the world to me. My life has been forever marked by his kindness.