Kindness Part II

A couple of weeks ago, I shared a post about the importance of kindness. At first, I assumed it would be an easy task. I began each morning by telling my family three specific ways I intended to show kindness at the office. Then, as my day unfolded, I would set out to accomplish those acts. However, on several mornings, I found myself sheepishly texting my family mid-morning to admit that I had already stumbled in my commitment. What seemed simple in theory quickly became challenging in practice. It’s effortless to be kind to people who treat you with respect and warmth, but extending that same kindness to those who are less considerate or even rude is a true test of character.

I was reminded of the verse, 1 Corinthians 13:4, "Love is kind," and Matthew 5:46-48,

“It is easy to love those who love you—even a tax collector can love those who love him. And it is easy to greet your friends—even outsiders do that! But you are called to something higher: “Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.”

Perhaps this was the Holy Spirit nudging me—because every day, it seemed, a new obstacle would appear as if on cue. There were days when it felt like it was testing my resolve, stacking frustrations one on top of the other. I wish I could tell you I floated through each trial with grace, but the truth is, some days left me drained. One morning, I spent over an hour on the phone with a representative who kept transferring me in circles, my patience thinning with each hold tone and apology. Another afternoon, a colleague brushed off her responsibilities, leaving me to pick up the slack with a forced smile. At these times, I could feel irritation bubbling up, threatening to spill over. It took every ounce of self-control to keep my voice steady and my words kind. These moments forced me to confront the reality that kindness isn’t just an emotion—it’s a choice, and sometimes, it’s the hardest one to make.

Then, one afternoon, I received a call from a patient whose voice trembled with urgency as he explained that another department’s mistake had caused him great angst because of the time sensitivity of the issue.  After a brief, hesitant pause, he quietly confided that he was homeless. His words were gentle, his demeanor calm and gracious despite the storm he was weathering. That revelation struck me profoundly. Even as he faced unimaginable uncertainty, he never once complained or demanded special treatment. Instead, he thanked me for every small effort, expressing gratitude simply for being heard. In that conversation, I was reminded how little I truly understood about the strength it takes to be kind when life is at its hardest. His resilience and humility left a lasting imprint on me.

There must have been a dozen hurdles to clear for this gentleman, most of which were well outside the boundaries of my job description. But his kindness inspired me to push past my own limits. I made numerous phone calls, tracked down resources, and coordinated between departments, sometimes spending my lunch break advocating for his needs. The work was time consuming and, at times, frustrating, but I was determined to make a difference, no matter how small. He waited patiently as I navigated red tape and delays, never expressing frustration. His calm, gracious demeanor put my own recent frustrations into perspective. In that instant, I saw the kind of kindness I aspired to—the kind that shines brightest when life is hardest.

I realized that kindness wasn’t just about grand gestures; it was in the persistence to keep going, even when no one was watching.  Even though the patient never asked me to advocate on his behalf, I was determined to do so.

By the end of the week, after what felt like a mountain of calls, paperwork, and logistical acrobatics, I finally managed to secure the help this patient so desperately needed. His gratitude was effusive—he thanked me over and over, his words heartfelt and humbling. Yet, as I hung up the phone that final time, I realized it was I who had received the greater gift. Through his example, he had shown me the quiet strength and deep humanity that define true kindness. His lesson will echo in my heart far longer than any words of thanks.

Practicing kindness will remain my daily goal—not just as a checklist, but as a way of being. I want to carry forward the example set by that patient, letting his resilience and grace inspire me to choose kindness, especially when it’s hardest. In doing so, I hope my actions will ripple outward, encouraging others to do the same.