You are certain you know what makes your child happy, scared and laugh. But there is one, minor revelation which humbles you from somewhere. That day, I found a dusty shoebox under my son’s bed. Inside, four or five shabby five dollar bills and a few shabby five dollar bills were tucked into rubber banded bunches of crumpled dollar bills, neat piles of quarters, and a few folded ones. I couldn’t move, and pondered what this secret cache was used for.
For lunch and snack each week, I gave him enough to buy as he was allowed just a pizza or ice cream day at school occasionally. Why then did this money arrive? There had been something he was holding back? A brand-new toy? A video game?
Yet his eyes darted as he looked, unsure of what to do when I asked. He was quiet first, scared, maybe embarrassed. At last he spoke something then.
“I’m keeping it for the animals at the shelter,” he continued, “because that’s the important thing.” I see images of cats and dogs on the internet who need food and medication. If I skipped lunch, I reasoned that I could help them.
My heart stopped beating. So that my son, just out of elementary school, would pack peanut butter sandwiches from home, forgo his favorite cafeteria snacks, and go without, when he had all of us to care for the animals who had no one else.
I was sickened with the happiness and sorrow at once. In trying to give him the things he needed to be happy—his favourite snacks, enjoyable weekends, a few comforts—I had failed to notice he was quietly and willingly giving them up to an end greater than himself.
Why had he not told me, was the question he answered me.
“I didn’t want you to stop me,” he said. It is strange, I know, but I reasoned that if I just continued saving it may be helpful. Mother, they have no one.
That night I hugged him one more time than I had in a while. He was not seeking publicity. He did not want praise. What he rather did was help.
The day after that I remembered to call the local animal shelter. I wanted to find out their needs and how they could be supported. There was never enough food, medicine or any cleaning materials. It was extremely necessary donations for medical care, of course.
To introduce my kid to the animals I had been quietly saving for, I brought him to the shelter. They were a warm welcome for an employees. His altruism inspired them to hear this: ‘the youngster that saves his lunch money for the animals.’ They also allowed us to tour the facility, clean the kennels and participate in feeding the animals.
In one cage, we passed by and my youngster stopped. Inside it was a tiny brown dog who was curled into the corner with his legs squirming.
“He looks so scared, he mumbled.”
“He just came in,” one of the personnel said. “I’m still used to trusting.”
He said to my son ‘I want to help him’. It was now personal, and not simply in general. He wished to reassure the puppy.
When we left, I told him that we would match every mock of dimes he had. In that case, we would also offer our services and help in any way we could. I did not expect what was to come.
Two weeks later, my kid was being hailed upon to speak at the shelter’s annual fundraiser. Because he is a shy child, he had initially resisted. However, he gave in after some time. That evening, he found himself sharing out in front of a group of strangers. Powerful, quiet, and honest. What he gave up to help others’ animals: Pizza and ice cream.
It was a silent room. Then there was a clatter.
A week later, the story was re-played by a local news outlet. It appeared on a front page: The Youngster Who Put Away His Lunch Money to Help Animals. The community reacted right away. Even more was donated to the shelter than it had for years. Baking sales were arranged in his honour, people volunteered and schools launched kindness initiatives in his honour.
Something even more significant then happened.
A nonprofit of his was motivated by his narrative and gave the shelter a big investment to help them grow. They improved medical care, expanded, and helped in placing even more animals.
So, a fearful dog, which is what my kid saw, and a caring family will take in the fearful dog. We visited him where he had taken up residence. Safe, content, healthy. My son smiled. It was a different matter for that one instant, it was just one act of kindness, that one moment had forever altered things.
This entire experience reminded me of a reminder of how the power of a quiet single act of kindness influences everyone. He had no wish to be a hero, my son only wanted to help. He didn’t even shout it from the roof tops, he didn’t demand anything in return. However, his actions transformed lives.
We do not honestly know the thoughts and feelings of those closest to us. We do see it, sometimes, and it could alter our life.
So I realized that there is no deed of compassion not small. No number of sandwiches that are missed or seconds that are saved or hearts that have been opened can erase this.
If you feel touched by this, please share this story. What one considerate child knew already: true caring comes quietly. Some of it is of this type, and some of it occasionally turns the world.