Dear Reader, what does kindness look like to you, or sound like? Perhaps its a fragrance or a touch.

I’ve been thinking about kindness a lot lately, acts of kindness given and received. Not necessarily the big acts, just small ones that fit in my pocket. Tangible gifts and service . . . empowering words spoken aloud and tucked into notes . . . soothing gestures. The list is endless when we slow down to look and reflect closely.

My first year as a school administrator in a new community, a young teacher quickly endeared herself with her gentleness and devotion to students who struggled to read. One day when I was visiting her shared teaching and learning space, she casually mentioned that she had trouble staying on time picking up and delivering students to their homerooms because she couldn’t see the room wall clock from the table where she taught.

Somewhere along the way, I had been given (by whom I can’t remember) a small blue clock, similar, but not quite like this one. I really liked the clock. I liked the colors in it and that it fit in lots of places.

But the Lord had a better purpose for the clock.

A couple of days later, before staff or students arrived, I went to the teacher’s desk and set the clock on it. No note. It didn’t matter if she figured out it was from me or not. The joy was in the giving.

She did come to me later to thank me; that wasn’t the end of the story.

It was fall, 2001. 911 rocked our small, rural community like it did the rest of our nation. My gentle teacher praised God that her sister, who worked at the Pentagon, had been late for work. Her office was part of the wreckage left by the hijacked plane.

Just days later, the same sister was brutally murdered in her own home. Praise turned to mourning.

Since you are all set apart by God, made holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with a holy way of life: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.

Colossians 3:12 VOICE

When it came time for our family to relocate, this heart-broken, resilient teacher quietly stepped into my office one afternoon, closed the door, and sat down across from me, tears streaming down her face. She remembered the clock. In a crackly voice, from a heart of pain and grace, she said, “I wanted you to know that I’m the reason you’ve been here.”

Have you ever been in a hard, dark, and painful place, Dear Reader, wondering why you were there? Most of us probably are somewhere in our journeys, I think. My earnest prayer is that when you are, there will be someone to come alongside and tell you, “I’m the reason you’re here.” That’s when God’s grace puts on flesh and comes to us when we need it most.

All these years later, and my gentle teacher’s words continue to resonate as one of the most powerful acts of kindness I have ever experienced.