Acts of Kindness

For my 30^th birthday this month I decided to steal an idea from many others and perform 30 random acts of kindness. I am currently on number 19 and as I continue, my constant prayer is that I give with the right spirit and intentions. Not for show. Not for recognition or what others think. It may seem weird to be struggling with this, but helping others does feel good. So it makes me examine my heart to be sure my intentions are not selfish in nature. Today I read a daily devotional about being a true giver. It quoted the story in Luke about the poor widow who gave her last few cents to the treasury and Jesus recognizing her gift as the greatest of all. She was focused on Him and not if others saw her. Her motives were pure. As I prayed for my own motives for the remaining acts of kindness I will perform this month I suddenly remembered something from my childhood I had completely forgotten.

I could not have been more than 7 or 8 years old and I lived in a very small town--the kind where you were still allowed to go out and play without constant supervision. I was out in the front yard and I saw a woman I had seen many times before. She was pushing a shopping cart collecting cans. I am still not sure if she was homeless or just very poor. She was always dressed in shabby, worn clothing and looked like she needed a shower and a good night’s sleep. No doubt most people in town knew who she was and what her story was, but as young as I was I had no idea and I was too scared to ask anyone. I remember standing in my driveway that day, looking at her, and starting to pray for her. I wished so hard that there was something I could do to help her. I wished I had a whole truck full of cans I could give her! I prayed and I prayed. It tugged at my soul to see her look so sad.

 I went into my bedroom, grabbed my pink pig bank (an actual piggy bank ha!) and took out two quarters. I can’t remember if that is all I had, but if not I know it was close. As I stared at them I wanted nothing more than to give them to her, but at that time I was PAINFULLY shy. The thought of walking up to her made my stomach turn. I was embarrassed just thinking about it. I really did feel convicted to help this woman and thought God was telling me to! I wished I could be invisible and just magically drop the coins into her hand and float away. My compassion for her somehow overrode all my fears and I walked across the street, through the playground, and halfway through a field to catch up with her and, with a huge lump and no words in my throat, held the coins out. I cannot even remember the words she said to me, but as many adults would do in that situation, she graciously turned down my offer. I was mortified. No doubt my face was bright red and my heart beating a mile a minute all the way home. I was so confused—thought I was wrong about what God told me—thoughts too grown up for a first grader.

Looking back I cannot help but laugh at how that must have looked. I can think of few moments in my life that have been more awkward! But as I complete my acts of kindness and strive to do better about reaching out and helping others in my life, I pray for that same innocence of heart that I had with my quarters that day--a true heart of giving, unconcerned about what I have left over or who will know what I did--a compassion for others that overrides my selfishness and pride.