Just the other night, my partner and I found ourselves working late, which meant we skipped our usual grocery run. On the way home, he reminded me that our kitchen was practically empty, save for a few cat and dog treats, the last remnants of what used to be a loaf of bread, and a half-eaten jar of Trader Joe’s Cookie Butter.
“I could swing by that fast-food place,” I suggested, knowing we didn’t particularly care for it, but it was quick and inexpensive. “The kids love it.”
He agreed, and there I was, inching my way through the drive-thru of a place I typically avoid. I’ve got my reasons—Styrofoam waste, high sodium, low wages, and questionable ingredients. (I’ll spare myself the guilt trip for now.) After placing my order for five, I was instructed to wait in a designated spot for my food. As I began to roll up the manual window (budget constraints, you know), an elderly gentleman approached my car.
“Did they happen to slip an extra burger in your bag?” he asked.
“No, they haven’t even given me my food yet,” I replied.
“No worries, ma’am. God bless, and have a wonderful evening.” He shuffled a little further down the parking lot and settled next to a weathered bag that looked like it had been there since the ’70s.
In the back seat, my two youngest— Mr. Ben (14) and Princess Ellie (10)— were listening intently. It didn’t take long before Ben piped up, “Mom…”
“Yeah, Mom…” echoed Ellie.
“I know, I have to wait for our food. Ben, do you mind helping?”
“Absolutely,” he replied confidently. I handed him a $10 bill, and he made his way over to the man.
With my window still down, I heard Ben say, “Let’s get you some dinner,” as they both headed inside. A few minutes later, an employee brought out our order, and Ben returned to the car with some change.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, I thanked him, and Ellie chimed in, “I hope he finds somewhere warm to sleep tonight.”
“Me too, sweetie,” I replied.
“But at least he’s not hungry anymore,” she added.
“Exactly,” I said.
This moment filled me with pride for my kids. They may not be straight-A students or athletic stars; they often forget their homework and struggle with chores. But what truly amazes me is their immense compassion.
They don’t view the world as “us” versus “them.” They see a collective “we.” They don’t categorize people as “black” or “white.” They notice the gray areas. Together, we listen to news radio and discuss the chaos in the world, even though I often remind them that much of it is senseless.
My kids embrace love and reject hate. They dream of a harmonious world, just as I did at their age, though my own dreams faded as I grew older. But perhaps they won’t fade as much as I fear. While many adults lament about the future of this generation, I see in my children a legacy of empathy and understanding.
My kids grasp the essence of compassion not from lectures or books, but through our actions. As parents, the examples we set will echo through their lives.
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