After a seventh grade year being bullied as a homeschooler that showed up at the public school for band class, after years of social awkwardness, after fighting for the ability to walk into a room full of my peers without wanting the floor to swallow me, I made the mistake of thinking I could walk into the Steubenville cafeteria by myself. Unwisely disregarding my rule of never showing up anywhere without a friend, I strolled in, confident that I'd see someone familiar and sit down with them. Besides the fact that it was the first week of my freshman year and I did not know many people yet, it wasn't like everyone went to lunch at the same time. So, I stood there with a tray full of food as panic set in. None of the open seats seemed like a safe bet - the danger of rejection was lurking everywhere. Any poise, any confidence I had gained since seventh grade vanished. I was once again the girl with no friends, the girl whom no one liked. The fact that I remember this moment so vividly 16 years later speaks volumes.
In a couple more seconds, I'd have probably dumped my lunch in the trash and gotten away as fast as possible. But then someone I'd never met came up to me, and he asked if I'd like to "sit with us for lunch." It wasn't flirting, it was one of the kindest acts of charity I've ever experienced. The memory of the relief and gratitude I felt is just as strong as the memory of the hellish thirty seconds before that. I sat down, had lunch, and chatted with a table of upper classpersons that I probably never talked to again - except maybe a smile and "Hi" in passing.
It was a little act of kindness, of consideration, of seeing a "deer-in-the-headlights" look on the face of a stranger frozen in the middle of a college cafeteria and not just looking the other way. It was not little to me, it was huge. But too often, I look the other way - I don't reach out because I'm still afraid of rejection or because I'm lazy or because I think that there's no way ______ could want or need help from me. But the person who seems to have what I don't - a nicer house, a prettier face, a better job - might still need a moment of my time, my little act of kindness.
This was clearly brought home to me at the grocery store. I was shopping with Tommy at a time when both of us were getting over being sick. And when Tommy gets sick, it tends to be a major event with trips to the doctor, breathing treatments in the middle of the night, etc. I was at the end of my rope before I even got to the store, so you can imagine my state by the time we were in the check out aisle. One of the grocery baggers is the nicest, most helpful person you could hope to meet. He also has intellectual challenges and a job that is probably looked down upon by many. If he had an attitude like mine, he'd probably tell himself that others did not need his help. But, as usual, he asked if I'd like help bringing the groceries out the car, and this time I said, "Yes." He brought them out and loaded the huge cartful into my trunk. At that moment, this help was so needed and appreciated - it really helped me get through that difficult day. It's hard to risk rejection or lack of appreciation, but it should be harder to risk missing an opportunity to help someone in a moment of need!
