From the Redneck Diva:
Today I made one of those rare trips to town by myself. Usually I have a kid or four in tow or at least a husband, but today’s trip was a solitary one. I have been on the puny side and didn’t really feel like going to town, but our pantry was down to canned corn, peas, some brown sugar and cinnamon Poptarts no one in the house will eat, a few packets of oatmeal, and six packages of Ramen noodles. We were even out of crackers. My trip was not a leisurely shopping excursion but a mission for nutrition.
Here we are recently past Thanksgiving, and I’ve been feeling especially blessed. Thanks to the kindness of an anonymous person I have four brand new tires on my van. The Christmas we thought was on the verge of not happening is shaping up to be the most blessed one yet. I have found two women who have ministered to me and prayed with and for me in the past few weeks, helping me see I am not alone, I am important, and there is a plan for my life. God is blessing my family in ways that continue to amaze me, and—believe it or not—have left me speechless many times lately. My husband is still in awe that I can actually be struck speechless. In 18 years he’d never seen it.
This perpetual feeling of happiness has been with me for weeks now, even in the midst of a blowout on the turnpike, hay that no one will buy, and sickness. Today was no exception. Even though I really wanted to be curled up on the couch, getting reacquainted with my DVR, I was happy that I was well enough to drive to town on those four new tires, in a van that may not be the fanciest but gets me where I’m going. I had money—granted, not a lot—in the checkbook and well, doggonit, I was just happy. I was merrily hefting two gallons of milk into my cart when I realized I had parked it right in a gentleman’s way. I quickly moved it, apologized, and smiled. He looked at me grumpily and mumbled, “No problem.” Undaunted by the Scrooge at the milk cooler, I moved on to the butter where I randomly asked a man how he was today. He literally blinked twice before he broke into a grin and said, “Honey, I am doing just fine. I’m walking, aren’t I?” I agreed that walking was a pretty good indicator of wellness. Then I moved on to the chips. I plopped my selection into my cart and started to move on when I saw an elderly woman on a motorized cart, looking up at a shelf she obviously could not reach. I left my cart, walked to her, and bending over to her level asked, “Is there something I can help you with, ma’am?” The look of absolute relief that spread across her precious wrinkled face just lit her up. Her voice was very quiet, either from age or illness, and I leaned closer to her to hear her speak. She smelled like a grandma, kind of like powder and vanilla. She whispered, “I need Cheetos. Two bags please.” I reached up where she couldn’t, placed the two bags of cheesy delightfulness in her cart and said, “There you go, dear.” She whispered a thanks and smiled a smile that just gave me goose bumps. She was truly thankful.
I went back to my cart and started down the aisle, but was stopped by another elderly woman who put her hand on my arm and with the other, pointed at the woman on the cart. Her voice full of emotion, she said, “That. That right there. More people need to do that. Your momma taught you right. That’s how all mommas should teach their children. You hardly ever see that anymore. Thank you.” I smiled, patted her hand, and said, “You’re very right. My momma taught me to respect and care. I hope I’m teaching my kids the same thing.” She gave me a squeeze and said, “Darling, I’d just about bet you are.”
As I continued on through the store it hit me just how rare random acts of kindness are. There was an uprising of them back in the ’90s, if you remember. There were billboards, bumper stickers, and PSAs admonishing us all just to be kind without being prompted, without reason, and with genuine care. How sad we needed a publicity push to make us do the things we should do without even thinking. I am not saying I’m a saint; I get caught up in my own world just as much as anyone else, but I try very hard to reach out to people in need—needs big or small, monumental or seemingly inconsequential. They don’t have to be big ticket things like giving someone hundreds of dollars, filling their car with gas, buying their cart full of groceries, or purchasing a set of tires for someone who just can’t afford them right now. Yes, those are indeed noble and kind, but kindness can be as simple as taking a casserole to the exhausted young couple with four small kids so the wife doesn’t have to worry with dinner that night. Or buying your mom’s favorite gum for her and just dropping it in her purse for her to find one of these days. It can be paying the toll for the car behind you at the turnpike gate—or putting a couple of bags of Cheetos into a stranger’s cart in the chip aisle at Walmart.
Few things make me happier than seeing my own children do simple acts of respect and genuine care and concern for someone. My daughter picked up a cup that missed the trashcan the other day. I didn’t tell her to, she probably didn’t know anyone was watching, but she did it anyway. It was a small action, requiring very little effort on her part, but to the older gentleman who had missed the trashcan it meant he didn’t have to bend over to pick it up. My son has carried in groceries for his grandmothers without my husband or me prompting him. My oldest daughter is making hair bows for the girls at the Baptist Children’s Home in Owasso. I am so proud that my children are compassionate and giving. All three of them have commented at how good it makes them feel to do things for others. These small, selfless acts may not change the world—but then again . . . maybe they will.
What if we all did for someone else every day? Would we change the world? Would we at least change our neighborhoods, communities, and most importantly ourselves?
Here’s hoping.
Diva
Kristin Hoover is the Redneck Diva. A local blogger and stay-at-home mom, Kristin has won Okie Blog Awards for her humorous take on the rural life of a natural-born diva who married a redneck and produced three offspring. Visit her online at http://www.theredneckdiva.com and http://therhok.com.
