By April Terry (personal blog http://faithwarming.blogspot.com)

There are a few moments in my life that I recall when someone outside of my family was truly kind to me.  Sadly, they can be counted on one hand, but they lay inside my heart like shiny coins in an old bottle.  There was one kindness, however, that has stayed with me over the years and has shone more brightly than the rest.  It was during the summer of 1983 shortly after I had graduated from high school and it came in the form of a letter that I will always be thankful for.

I started playing tennis about the summer of 1978.  I was just going into Jr. High school and our family had moved across the street from the Jr. High and High schools and I started going over to the tennis courts alone.  I got a little obsessed with the game and I was determined to become the next Tracy Austin, the young, sweet girl who was challenging the great Martina Navritilova at that time.  I played against the backboard at the courts because I didn’t have anyone to play against until, by the end of 1979, I started to get pretty good.  That was when I would occasionally start to play against the boys that came to the courts who were my age.  There were some pretty good players in my school and I become known around the courts and, well, I was pretty much there every single day.  In fact, on most days, I would play a couple hours in the mornings and three hours in the evenings, spraying myself down with Deep Woods Off! to keep from getting mosquito bites all over my body.  I set a goal that I would be a real tennis star for my high school and I worked toward it.

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By April Terry (personal blog http://faithwarming.blogspot.com)

Standing in the line at the checkout usually means that I am in the process of doing something that I don’t enjoy—buying groceries.  However, on one particular day this week, I was an unwitting observer of two random acts of kindness.  I stood there, third in line, wondering why the 15 items or less line is always the slowest, but it doesn’t really matter because I always find the slowest line no matter what.  Ahead of me, a man of about thirty-five waited behind a woman in her fifties who was confined to a wheelchair.   Her two items were already rung up and waiting for payment, but she was confusedly searching through her billfold when the lady who bagged the groceries stepped forward to help her. 

“Do you need help, Mary?  It’s three dollars and thirteen cents,” but she didn’t wait for the lady to answer, and stepped forward and started helping Mary count the dollars.  What a kindness, too, to call her by name. 

The dollars came easy, but the cents were another story.  Still, before Mary or the bagger could start the change process, the gentleman ahead of me whipped out thirteen cents from his pocket and handed it to the cashier.  Mary, the checker, and the bagger all thanked him profusely while he waved them off and waited patiently for Mary to hit the right button that would electronically wheel her forward and out the doors.  It was a little thing, done in a second, but lasting so much longer.  A smile eased onto my face as I smiled at the group of people helping one another in different ways.  The gentleman looked back at me briefly and caught me in the act of smiling. 

I’m already familiar with the bagger.  She’s the perky one who always notices when I come in without a smile and she coaxes one out of me until she is satisfied that she has made my day better.  One day, she noticed that I was tired and worked on me a bit harder than usual.  She always gets her way.  I’m not always at my best at the grocery store, but she is, and I am thankful for that.  Today, however, she was beat out by the guy with the thirteen cents.  I thought it was kind of cool to have the opportunity to see the lady who does the most for others get trumped by a guy with thirteen cents.  It’s a competition worth losing—and winning.  I guess everyone won on that one.

These kinds of moments bring hope to me in so many ways.  In a second, I realize the value of human relationships both shallow and deep.   We are all people who need people, as the song goes, but we don’t always know it.  I was thinking the other day how awful life would be if my whole objective in life were just my job and my immediate family.  Instead, I see my objective in life as a kind of rambling journey of positively affecting other’s lives whenever possible. 

I remember once hearing Donald Trump talk about how once rich people start giving to charitable ventures, they get addicted to it.  I think it’s because with unlimited funds at their disposable, they have reached the pinnacle of experiences and they have little left to explore except to experience the richness of giving and doing good in the world.  The truth that giving always brings the greatest reward is an elusive truth to many people except for a select few.

I’d like to see that truth spread worldwide like a firestorm.  It could start in aisle nine and move through the store and out into the parking lot.  From there it could move throughout the city, state, and on throughout the world. 

That day it took only thirteen cents for everyone present to realize that kindness is priceless.

By April Terry (personal blog http://faithwarming.blogspot.com)

We spent Sunday evening at a lovely dinner party at a friend’s home.  At this dinner party was a married couple and they were both deaf.  They had both learned to sight read to a certain extent, but their disabilities still affect the way they approach a social situation.  Imagine a dinner party of eight fast talking adults, all with different speeds of speaking, and then add to it a hearing disability and imagine trying to keep up with the conversation.  I could really feel for the couple.  We spent a good share of time making conversation with them, and it was pretty amazing how they managed to handle themselves in a social situation.  The temptation would definitely be to not go into a social situation at all, but it took a great deal of courage for them to forge forward and I salute them for it.

One of the people at the party, a single father, made no effort to converse with them in any way.  Perhaps he felt uncomfortable, but he made no effort.  The wife of this couple, who sight reads very well, made great efforts to interpret for her husband.  Still, I think that both he and his wife felt the most comfortable with my husband and I.  Mostly because I think we were patient.  We have learned how to listen better, communicate better, and how to wait for someone to expresss themselves through our ministry to seniors since so many of our seniors are impaired with various ailments. 

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