People don’t have to be nice. If we can be grateful when they are, we can start being nicer.
___
There is a woman who meets my children each morning when I drop them off at school.
She is of medium build with a square face, short blond hair, and, I believe, blue eyes.
She meets all the children at the drop-off point, but I say she meets my children because she greets my two sons warmly and knows their names. She often helps my younger son J out of the car if he is not quite ready to surrender his iPad and start his school day. And she is always cheerful, patient, and invariably smiling. I have seen her smiling on the coldest days, on days when the line of cars stretched out of the lot and into the side street, on days when her leg was in a cast. I have seen her smiling in the rain. I have seen her smiling, forced maybe but still smiling, when she has been forced to physically lift my son from the car. And from the back of the caravan of expensive, over-sized, under-occupied vehicles, I have seen her welcome other children with the same good nature and enthusiasm. Her charm and the gift of her smile transform a stressful moment for many parents and children into a peaceful transition from love to … love.
I call this woman drop-off lady, because I do not know her name. Ironic, since she surely knows the name of every child who comes her way. I am not sure of her eye color, but I know her eyes twinkle and light up when she sees my kids. And I am sad, because today, I learned, is drop-off lady’s last day. She told me this after expressing just the smallest hint of frustration at my son’s sour attitude and reluctance to disembark. She said, “Come on, J, this is my last day here. Let’s make it a good one.” She told me this after complimenting him on how straight he sits in his seat. She told me this before telling me she would miss my sons in the morning, and in the lunchroom, as I will miss her smiling presence when I pull in to the lot each day. She said she is “going back to corporate,” where things like charm and smiles are less important than charts and spreadsheets, where enthusiasm can be a dangerous thing, and where it’s often best to avoid getting your hands dirty if you want to advance up the ladder.
Where am I going with this, other than to rhapsodize about someone I’ve noticed making a difference?
Take what you wish from it.
Stretch a little, set your own crap aside, and be the person who makes a difference in your family, at your workplace, or for your friends.
Start smiling.
And keep smiling.
Or if that’s not you—and that’s OK—recognize someone who does it.
Because they don’t have to. It’s not obligatory. And there’s a huge difference between perfunctory and performing, between standing slump-shouldered on the stage of life, reciting your lines flatly, ticking off the time until your exit, and striding out, opening your arms and your heart, singing your special song, and embracing life with all its challenges, gifts, and wonders. There’s a huge difference between what I will call flat-lining, maintaining a straight or even straight-laced face, checking your emotions at the door, and entering boldly with the gift of a smile, that sweet curve of the lips, that fertile crescent in which are sown the seeds of joy.
And goodness knows, the world needs more joy.
We do.