A random act of kindness

Toward the end of church yesterday, I took Gus out for a walk because he was getting antsy. We were standing at the baptism bulletin board looking at photos of the babies when someone came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. Before I turned around, I assumed it was Mark saying, "OK, they've had it. Let's cut out of here early."

I turned to see a woman who's a familiar face at church, but I don't know her personally. She looked at me warmly and said, "I just wanted to tell you that your boys are beautiful. They're so well-behaved, and it makes me so happy to see you here." Naturally, I began to demur. You know, "They have good days and bad days ..." But she pressed on, "No, they really are well-behaved, and you are a good mom, I can tell." I told her she had made my day, and with that, off she walked.

This woman probably is about 10 years older than me. In the course of our short conversation, she told me she has two sons, 18 and 20, and a daughter, 13. I'd guess that she, like an elderly woman who had also commented on my boys' good behavior a few months ago at church, was a mom who was feeling wistful for the days when her kids were young and was observing us through rose-colored glasses.

When we're out with the kids somewhere that demands their self-control, I think I tend to view the boys' behavior worse than it probably is. Every vocalization by Gus sounds extra-loud to my ear; each time Ben slumps in the pew looks especially mopey and disrespectful. When Paul asks to go to the bathroom in the middle of Mass, I fret that onlookers are thinking, "Can't he wait half an hour until this is finished?" The reality, I suppose, most likely lies someplace between my worst fears about how we appear and the way I wish we did.

The boys' church behavior, to me, is acceptable but usually not great. The acceptability has been cultivated only through weekly exposure to the need to sit quietly for that hour. Maybe, though, I need to give them more credit, and when someone pays my family a compliment, I'll take it for what it is and let it make me feel good for a while.

The woman from church paid me an extraordinary kindness. I will remember that day, and several years down the line, when I'm feeling wistful watching a set of parents with their squirming kids, all parties doing their best in a tricky situation, I hope I will pay her kindness forward.