Today I knocked on somebody’s door and ran away as fast as I could. It was fun.
I think I get less and less mature as I age. I used to be such a good little girl. In kindergarten, I sat quietly with my hands in my lap, listening respectfully to my pedagogue, sternly shushing any fellow student imprudent enough to disturb my intense concentration.
How things change.
I didn’t completely ding-dong ditch the good people whose doorstep I disturbed today, though. I left them a book I thought their children would enjoy, along with an anonymous note. It’s hard to be anonymous when you are known for such hare-brained schemes and have distinctively illegible handwriting, but I figure that they’re popular enough to have other suspects besides myself.
I hardly ever think these things up on my own. The inspiration came from my dear friend Margot. She’s 82 and by far the youngest, most vibrant, and joyful person I know. When you are Margot, good things always seem to find their way to you. As for the bad things, they’re just so ridiculous, you can’t help but laugh at them (like the Russian vacuum salesman; that was hilarious). But that’s the way Margot looks at life. From a materialistic viewpoint, she really doesn’t have much going for her; she’s a low-income senior widow, living all alone with a medical condition that makes her hands tremor so that she can’t write very well, or hold a full glass of water without it spilling. Yet for all that, she never lets anything get her down. She looks for the good in life, and she finds it.
Every Christmas and Easter, sometimes Thanksgiving and other holidays, a teddy bear appears on Margot’s porch bearing a $100 gift card to the local grocery store and a mysterious letter. We have no idea who it’s from, but she’s always euphoric when it comes, almost more for the goofy bear than for the gift card.
It doesn’t take $100 to make somebody’s day. Popping a letter in the mail for a birthday, leaving mysterious presents, writing notes and leaving them in sneaky places where you know they’ll find them; it really doesn’t take much effort. Yet it makes people so happy. It makes people happy to know that someone is thinking about them; to know that somebody took 5 minutes out of their busy day to buy them a cookie or remember a promise.
It’s the thought that counts, not the pecuniary value. The thing is, making somebody else’s day is hardly the first thing on a body’s mind. But think about it sometimes. You have your own problems and issues to deal with, I know, but making somebody else’s day will make yours brighter as well.
The other day, I found out that a friend was struggling with her faith. She’s had difficulties in her life and she was getting a bit fed up with God. “What’s the point in being Christian if He doesn’t even care?” she wondered. So, today I sent her an anonymous encouragement note (yeah, I like being anonymous; I’m being noble and selfless by not taking credit for these things . . . or maybe I’m just a creeper). I hope she will realize that God does care for her. He cares for her through the people who care for her. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be wasting my time and effort and 29 cents on post card stamps.
Go make somebody’s day. It’s not hard. You’ll be glad you did it.
Hebrews 10:24-25 And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
oldefashionedgirl 