Unexpected Kindness (12-14-09)

In 1982, American writer Anne Herbert coined one of my favorite maxims, “Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.” This week, my family received such an act of unexpected kindness.

On Wednesday, ready to take the kids sledding, I backed out of my garage without a care…straight into a deep pile of snow.

Talk about a moment of stupidity! In my foolish haste I forgot to account for the amount of snow that had fallen since my first shoveling the day before and for the snow that had been pushed to the curb by the passing snow plow.

When I went to examine the amount of snow blocking my path, I found a pile of snow that went half way up my thighs.

With the help of my wife, we were able to push and drive the van back into the garage. While we were struggling, though, a silver pickup drove slowly past. It didn’t go far, because by the time I had gotten the van in the garage and had begun shoveling, the truck had returned, this time stopping in front of my house.

I did not recognize the truck or the driver who hopped out, efficiently lowered two aluminum ramps and backed out a large snow blower. Before I could wipe the look of disbelief off my face, the man rammed the oversized scoop into the four foot snow bank, sending a beautiful jet of snow soaring in the street.

The snow was steep and fairly packed, but it was no match for the man and his machine. He pushed in time and again, straining at the handlebars and digging in his feet. The machine did a lot of the work, but I marveled at how this stranger labored so devotedly over my driveway.

I began to shovel the path to our front door. The good Samaritan noticed and waved me aside. In less time than it took me to lift my shovel, he had plowed a double-wide path to our front steps.

He then returned to the driveway, now going back and forth along the width, completely clearing the pavement in front of both doors. Without a pause or a word or even a wave, he then maneuvered his wonderful machine back onto the bed of the pickup truck.

Who was this guy? Could I pay him for his trouble or for his fuel. He’d spent, all told, more than ten minutes revving his machine though a veritable mountain of snow. So I ran and caught him just before he climbed back into the cab of the truck.

“Who are you?” I yelled over the roar of the still running blower, now idling in the back of the truck.

“Don Scott,” he replied. I’d heard the name before and have since learned that he was once our town sheriff. However, standing there in the cold, he seemed like a stranger to me.

“Thank you!” I said reaching for his hand.

“No problem,” he replied. “You still have a lot of work to do.”

With that he was gone, in search I’m sure of another snow capped driveway and to help another hapless homeowner. It was the perfect random act of kindness, and I cannot tell you how much we appreciated it. After clearing the front steps, I was done with shoveling and able to get the kids to the park for an afternoon of sledding. Santa Claus himself could not have given our family a nicer present that day.

But I have not forgotten his words. While I’m sure he was referring to the amount of snow left to shovel, I now see the words as something more. They speak to the amount of work each of us has to do every day in performing acts of kindness for our friends, neighbors, and for complete strangers.

So yes, there is still a lot of work to do, but luckily the work of performing random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty is the best work of life. I’m just glad I live in a place where virtual strangers are glad to lend a hand while expecting nothing in return. I am humbled and motivated by this bit of unexpected kindness, and I look forward to the time when I can pass along kindness unexpectedly to someone else.