The Magic of Kindness
Too many years ago to remember, a Thanksgiving holiday arrived. With an entire week out of school my husband and I could make extra money delivering new school buses. So, early on Monday morning we headed for Huntington, W. Virginia. This old, industrial city sets in the foot hills of the Appalachian Mountains in a valley along the Ohio River, very near both the Kentucky and Ohio state lines and is home to Marshall University.
Alone, staring out the front glass, mile after mile, typically decluttered my mind. I could think my thinks and put them in their appropriate cubbies for later access. Buses are not made for luxury, they are work horses, but new and empty they are a wonderful place to let the mental fog burn off and find peace. This trip wasn’t that. I was restless. We left our young daughters with their grandparents knowing that if something unfortunate occurred and we didn’t make it back for Turkey Day, they were with family enjoying all the festivities. I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself, I was incredibly grateful for the opportunity God provided to make Christmas gift money and even more grateful for the solitude spent in His presence. These miles didn’t do their magic. I just wanted to get home.
This was my first sojourn across the entire length of the Kentucky Interstate system. It is not a common thoroughfare. Interstate 40 goes south through Tennessee on its way to the Atlantic coast while interstate 70 takes a northerly route through major cities until it ends in Philadelphia. I’ve traveled these corridors extensively. The Bluegrass Parkway MEANDERS! When time is money you do not meander, but this route was the quickest and shortest mileage available, so our big diesel machines took a leisurely stroll over the rivers and through the woods.
As we neared Huntington late Wednesday afternoon we topped a mountain with a panoramic view of the city and Marshall U’s football stadium. I immediately recognized the scene from a movie that had recently been released staring Matthew McConaughey, We Are Marshall. The film recounted the story of the 1970 plane crash that took the lives of Marshall’s entire football team and staff. My heart clinched. It cried for this town and the families that lost so much and as always…..I defaulted to ‘What if.’ What if something so horrible happened to me? How would I go on? Oh how I just wanted to get home to my babies!
We dropped the buses and turned our tow car westward with our hearts set on pulling into our driveway early Thursday morning, but we needed food and caffeine. Denny’s had what we needed. I picked up a menu and saw all the trimmings for holiday meals and thought of people that would be eating in restaurants rather than around tables with people they loved. I secretly cried when I realized I was among those I pitied! The waitress found me with a throat so tight I couldn’t do anything but nod when she asked if I would like coffee. I felt sad for her having to deal with a mess of a customer but she was so beautifully gracious. Somehow, a feast fell before me with every trimming imaginable. Her kindness touched and warmed me. My heart was sad and cold, but she brought hospitality when she could have huffed away. This woman I will never meet again treated me to a taste of Heaven’s Glory.
Long ago I determined to trade “What if” for the “But if not” Nebuchadnezzar heard before sending three Hebrew men to their fate in a fiery furnace (Daniel 3), and I’ve come to learn that strength of faith not only grows in tests of trial and tribulation, but also in the simple kindness of those who have absolutely nothing to gain.
As Christians we expect to be the givers of grace, mercy and kindness, but this holiday, allow me to remind you; be aware of those that are extending the Hands, Feet, Eyes, Ears and Heart of Jesus to you too and remember them with gratitude.
Blessings and Peace,
Gretchen
The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40