There are people who spend so much time looking for the large,
spectacular opportunities for serving others, that they pass by as
unworthy of notice the opportunities for doing what seem to be little
kindnesses. Fortunately, however, there are people who are so taken up
with rendering what they call little services, that they have no time to
worry because the big opportunities do not come their way.
A magazine writer tells of one of these doers of simple kindnesses:
"I was the shabbiest girl in the office," she says. "It was no one's
fault and no one's shame that we were poor. I had intelligence enough to
know that. I knew, too, what a sacrifice mother had made to pay for my
tuition at business school. Still, the knowledge of my shabby clothes
forced itself upon me, particularly my old black skirt! Mother had
cleaned it and pressed it and cleaned it, but it seemed bent with age,
and all the office girls looked so fresh and pretty in their trim
business suits. I imagined all the first morning that they were pitying
me and felt them looking at my shabbiness, and during noon hour I was so
miserable; but when I went back next morning, I noticed that one of the
girls had on nearly as old clothes as I did, and she was so nice to me
that I fancied she was glad I had come because of our mutual poverty.
Not until after I earned enough money to buy some suitable, nice clothes
did I realize that the 'poor girl,' as I thought her, had drifted back
into the prettiest, most tasteful clothes worn by any of the girls. She
had only borne me company at a most trying time, and she knew, because
her fellow-workers all admired her, that the little object lesson would
keep them from hurting my feelings. The day has come now when new
clothes are usual, when I may even achieve an appearance that is known
as 'stylish.' But in my office, when a girl comes in shabby, painfully
sensitive, as I was, I 'bear her company' until the better times shall
come."
From another observer comes the story of the simple deeds of kindness
done by a company of young people in Brooklyn to a young woman married
to an elderly and uncongenial man. She showed symptoms of taking her
life into her own hands. She felt that the world owed her happiness, and
she was tempted to take it anywhere it might be found, especially in one
undesirable direction. She was poor and outside of many ordinary social
pleasures. The word was passed along the line that Mrs. D... needed
especial attention and friendliness shown her. Immediately one girl,
whose notice was in itself a compliment, invited her to attend a concert
with her. Two more volunteered to see her home from Sunday school, and
call for her as well. Books were loaned her, calls made, and in brief, a
rope of warm sturdy hands steadying her over the hard place in the road,
until she found herself and settled down to the duty she was on the
point of leaving forever.
The widespread hunger for such little kindnesses was shown one day when
a New York man accosted in Central Park a poor foreigner, who could
speak little English. Noting that the man looked dejected, he offered
him his hand. Then he asked the man if he was in need. "No, I don't need
money," was the reply; "I was just hungry for a handshake." Blessings on
those who are not too busy to think of the poor who are hungry for the
little services they can render.
If they could know the ultimate effect of some of their deeds, these
would not always seem insignificant. The man who is always on the
lookout for little chances for service is more apt to perform services
that are of great importance, than the man who spends his time dreaming
of big things he will do some day.