Practicing Random Acts of Kindness

I loved this article on random acts of kindness in the Daily Mail today; give it a read, it will put a smile on your face.  

It's amazing how many opportunities there are out there to show kindness if you are looking, big and small, that have great impact.

I've also been the recipient of a small, but meaningful act this week ~ a friend's little girl asked me if I needed help with my bags when she saw the size of my baby belly; I was sure to let her mom know how impressed I was with her thoughtfulness.

Throughout my pregnancy, my husband has been an encyclopedia of kindness. There is no selfless act too big for this wonderful man.

My little daughter will stop me in the middle of a back-breaking chore and ask if I need a hug. Or she will tell me to just sit down and rest for a moment. Every time, she brings tears to my eyes, and I can see the pride she feels in helping me.

One prominent act of kindness that still boggles my mind, happened when I was 19, studying abroad in London, riding on the packed, morning underground.

My friends and I, quietly sitting in a row on our way to school, unfortunately caught the eye of a drunk, possibly mentally ill man, who decided to make us his target. He ranted every possible foul name in the book at us and wobbled closer and closer until he was standing right in front of us, shouting.

Around us, not a soul said a word, lifted their eyes from their papers or even shifted in their seats. The car was entirely silent except for the sound of those drunken insults being hurled.

Then through the packed train, full of refined commuters, weaved a big, intimidating-looking man, rough around the edges. He made his way to us, grabbed the drunk man firmly by the arm and whispered something in his ear.

To this day, I wish I knew what he said, because the look on the ranting man's face was priceless. Shock and instant calm. When the train stopped at the next station, the big man firmly escorted the drunk man off the train, then stepped back in before the doors closed. 

He never once looked at us, and kept his back to us the remainder of the journey. He didn't look for credit or thanks, he simply did what was right because he could.

I tried to catch his eye on the way off the train to thank him, but he stared steadfast in the other direction. I whispered "thank you" and made my way through the crowd off the train.

Still amazing to me, I will never, ever forget that hero.