Kindness with a Shovel

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted – Aesop

We had a wonderful little snowfall here the other day. I looked outside and noted that we had received about a quarter inch or so. Just a dusting. That’s the way I like it.

The next day, of course, Mother Nature decided to share more of her bounty with us, and when I awoke we had more than half a foot of snow. Ugh.

Our Pacific Northwest weather, particularly in the Puget Sound region, tends to be far milder than the interior regions of either Washington or Montana, but we still receive our snows, and they generally come in the first couple months of the year rather than the last couple of months. That’s just the way it is.

I looked at the snow out our window and admired how still and quiet it lay upon the ground. There are few scenes more idyllic than those of new-fallen snow.

Sadly, life requires we destroy the idyllic by going out and plowing the driveway. That would be fine if I had a plow, of course, but I don’t. I have a trusty little snow shovel that has held up quite nicely for over a decade. It fits me perfectly and isn’t as heavy as some of the “I’m-sure-they-were-made-of-iron” snow shovels I’ve had to muscle around in my three-score-plus years trudging this “… earth, our island home” (Book of Common Prayer).

Unfortunately, we couldn’t wait for Mother Nature to come back and clean up her mess as we had places to go and things to do, so I got dressed, bundled up, and with trusty shovel in hand went to work clearing our driveway. Thankfully, it is mostly downhill from the house to the street, so it didn’t take but about thirty minutes to get it all cleared, and another thirty to get my pulse down out of the scary-high triple digits.

We took care of our errands after that, after which we came home and enjoyed a lazy afternoon of reading, writing, and whatever else we were of a mind to do.

A few hours later I heard the tell-tale sound of wheels spinning on ice and noticed our neighbor and another woman struggling to drive away from the curb along which our neighbor’s guest had parked. Although they weren’t parked along much of a grade, it was enough to prevent any forward movement.

I debated whether or not I should help them (a debate which lasted about 2.3 seconds) and decided to bundle up and do my bit for the good of the community. It seemed that somewhere in the deep dark recesses of my mind I had heard or read a story about someone helping a stranger, and a corresponding command to go and do likewise, so I did.

I put on my boots and coat, and with the added traction that said boots (and a body mass of about fourteen stone) would provide, helped them get turned around and moving down the road toward their ultimate destination.

It doesn’t take much to be kind or courteous, does it? We see someone in need, or someone struggling, and instead of turning a blind eye, we reach out offer a hand.

It just seems to takes far less energy to be kind. I know people who blow their cork at the slightest provocation, and I don’t understand it. Each is entitled to an opinion; each is entitled to their space on the chessboard of life, and while games of Capture the Flag have their time and place, I don’t see the thrill of making every other moment a scramble to the top, especially when it requires climbing on the backs of others to make that journey.

So I’m glad my drapes were open enough so I could see a neighbor in need. I’m glad I was able to get my boots and coat on to be of service and contribute my mass to something more productive than keeping my couch in place.

As Aesop famously said, “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” I think Jesus would have enjoyed comparing notes with the Greek story-teller. That would have been an entertaining conversation to sit in on and listen to, eh?

Snow it went last week here in this, our valley.