So I met a guy —
No, not that kind of guy. Not a love interest, head-over-heels guy. A friendly, professional guy who just so happened to attend a work conference I planned the last eight months of my life.
During the middle of the conference this weekend, when I was at my most frazzled and pulling-my-hair-out moment, he stopped and showered me with kindness.
“You’re doing a great job, you’ve been working really hard,” he said. This recognition brought peace to my weary mind.
“Tell me about what you do. What are your dreams? What do you hope to be?” He asked, inquisitively listening to every word I said.
It was in this moment that I remembered what my mother Sweet Denise always taught me: be kind.
Kindness is an art.
It’s hard to be kind when I’m in the middle of a very important conference for a very important job doing very important things. It’s hard to be kind when I wake up at 6 a.m. for a 12-hour-long work day when all I want to do is crawl back into bed and sleep my worries away.
There’s an art to kindness: it takes purpose, pure intent and selflessness. It takes not caring about looking good, but instead compassion that acts on doing good.
I hope that I can be as kind this guy — to go out of my way to care for others, to step out of my comfort zone to make someone’s day. I hope to put others’ healing over my hurt, others’ joy over my success. I hope these things because kindness is noticeable, it’s recognizable, it’s important.