goodness

  Today the neighbor boys (ages 10, 12 and 13), who we hired to mow our lawn this summer, showed up with a taped up gift box.  They said they had to run, just a little something for us.  This family has been kind to us, bringing the girls kites, or other small gifts this summer.  We weren't surprised to have a delivery.

But then we opened the box. Inside was several hundred dollars-mostly twenties- pretty much the entirety of what they had been paid for mowing.  Also four pairs of fun sunglasses and a note.  The note said that they had sat down together and discussed the money they had saved from mowing and that they really wanted to give it back (they said they kept just a little for other things).  They said the money was not for sympathy but for courage and strength and passing that on to others. That they appreciated the opportunity to mow for us, and that they also appreciated learning that when life throws you a bump you can still smile, like our family. That's what they said.  Right there in the note, typos and all.

Holy lesson in honorable.  All day I have been wiping away tears and wracking my brain about how to express my appreciation and love for these kids.  For this family.  The parents who came along to gently guide the boys in their first-ever job, who brought along their weedwhacker and trimmed even when I insisted that I could do that part, who happily gave up the better part of two hours every weekend to wrangle our lawn into shape. 

And we will express our thanks, again and again and hope to have the honor of returning the favor. But with something this big, it seems that we also have to trust the process. To know that the abundance these boys have given us will always be part of who they are, paving the path to forever thoughtfulness and generosity. That it is also a gift to our children, who witnessed their own parents moved to tears by the goodness of other children.  

That this was an offering of kindness that will stay with us always.