Random Acts of Kindness

The world feels loud, fast, fractured, irreparable. Still, kindness always finds a way to stubbornly break through. This is where I try to keep my focus. 

The other day at my favorite coffee shop, a woman in a wheelchair fell forward onto the floor. Before the shock even had time to settle, three or four people were rushing to her from different corners of the room. No hesitation: just movement. 

I think about that moment a lot. It’s what gives me faith when the light feels dim. 

I think about the small businesses that spread generosity simply by existing: the barista who remakes my coffee because my husband ordered it for me, but I got stuck in traffic and it was cold by the time I pulled in. 

I feel God in moments like that. This sounds dramatic—but why?

I see God in the people who take time out of their busy lives to speak words of life and encouragement. With words that build instead of bruise. This is patience and love in action.

Kindness is rarely convenient. It costs time, attention, and sometimes money and comfort. But it multiplies, and it moves outward like ripples across water. I have felt the ripple. It makes me want to live differently.

To be patient when someone else is late. To comment encouragement instead of scrolling past. To let someone merge. To say hello first. To carry cash, just in case someone needs it. 

The world may be noisy, but kindness is steady, and maybe the miracle is not that it exists. Maybe the miracle is how often it does.