Because Nice Matters

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Now more than ever, it seems as if kindness is a dying gesture. People seem to be angry at the world, and smiles seem fewer and farther between.

There are times when I am sad that negativity seems to be ruling the world and worry that it is only going to get worse.

Then, just when I think hope is lost, an angel comes along makes me believe that there is still good in the world.

Not so long ago, the kindness of the man behind the counter at the candy store was exactly the angel I needed to restore my hope on a pretty desperate day.

I remember the day exactly. 

It was December 21st, and it started at the post office 9 miles away when I received a phone call that we had not received a referral for the 28th month in a row. 

I was beside myself and somehow ended up driving the boys to Zeeland and walking them into the candy store just so I could continue talking to our agency as to why we were not getting a referral.

As the boys wandered the store and picked out their candy, I continued to talk and cry on my phone, just nodding yes to who knows what kind of candy.

I somehow managed to get them to the counter in my fog of emotions, and was fumbling for my money when the kind gentleman, patted my hand and said, You're having a rough day, just give me a dollar.

It was a gesture, that in that moment, meant more that words could describe.  

It was a nice man, who spoke kindness and reassured me that everything was going to be okay.

Why did it mean so much to me?

Because Nice Matters.

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Today, seven months after the nice man at the candy store showed how the kindness of a stranger could mean so much, I was again left speechless by a stranger's kindness.

Due to my pregnancy brain, I recently misordered a few items on my 31 order. Oops. My wonderful consultant, Beth {who also is adopting and uses her 31 business to raise money!} kindly reordered them and stopped by today to drop them off.

As I opened the door, she handed me the cutest pink bag and told me my order was in.  Confused, I looked down at the bag to see that it had Finley's name on the bag and tears immediately flooded my eyes.

There I was, standing in the doorway being blessed by a woman who barely knew me, and it meant the world to me.

And, if that wasn't enough to get me choked up, inside was a small zippered pouch with two little blonde boys named Gibson and Elliott surrounding their brown eyed sister, Finley on the the front.

Beth did not have to do that, but she did, and it mattered.

Why?

Because Nice Matters.

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