For My Boys
You leave your receipt at the window. After a sufficient number had accumulated, the girl at the window grabs the box and begins searching for your passport. After a pile of about 20-30 passports have been found, she calls out the names. We were instructed to line up and sign off when we had received our passports. This is the chaos that greeted me when I had to renew my passport.
I was the fifth in line. There were about twenty more people in line behind me. She called a name and I saw an old lady stand up and head for the window. As she hobbled forward, I thought, yes, she can go to the window right away.
Then to my horror, I saw that the boys in front would not let her cut the line. One even rudely pointed a thumb to the back of the line. Everyone’s had a bad, long day. Nobody gains any favors. Not even our senior citizens.
She turned around and began her hobble to the end of the line. When she was about to pass, I reached out, guided her shoulder to a space in front of me, and smiled.
“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” she began.
“It’s ok,” I replied.
The relief and gratefulness on her face was like a ray of sunshine in that hot, uncomfortable place.
If my children should read this post in the future, please remember that your father expects you to be the ONE who would give way or go out of their way to help another. I want you to be that one who could change a hot, uncomfortable place into one filled with gratefulness. I want people to know you, and exclaim, “Oh! That boy who was always kind and generous?”