Earlier this week, my partner and I found ourselves working late, and as we drove home, he reminded me that our pantry was nearly empty—aside from the remnants of our pets’ food and a couple of slices of stale bread. “I could swing by that fast-food place,” I suggested. “I know we’re not fans, but it’s quick and the kids enjoy it.” He agreed, so there I was, waiting in line at a restaurant I usually avoid due to its unhealthy options and questionable ethics.
After placing my order for five, I was instructed to pull aside and wait. Just as I was about to roll up my window—manual, because we’re watching our budget—a kind older gentleman approached my car.
“Did they happen to give you an extra burger?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” I replied.
“No problem, ma’am. God bless you, and I hope your night is lovely,” he responded before walking a bit further and sitting down next to an old bag that looked like it had been around since the ’70s.
In the back seat were two of our three kids, Jake (14) and Lily (10). Moments later, Jake piped up, “Mom…”
“Yeah, Mom…” Lily chimed in.
“I know, I know,” I said. “I’m just waiting for our food. Jake, could you take care of this?”
“Absolutely,” he said confidently. I handed him a $10 bill, and he made his way over to the gentleman.
I kept my window down and heard him say, “Let’s get you something to eat,” as they both headed inside. A few minutes later, an employee brought out our order, and Jake returned with change.
As we drove away, I thanked him. Lily added, “I hope he finds a warm place to sleep.”
“Me too, sweetie,” I replied.
“But at least he’s not hungry now,” Lily observed.
“Exactly,” I agreed.
This moment is what makes me proudest as a parent. My kids may not be the academic top achievers, and they often forget their homework, but their compassion is what sets them apart. They don’t draw lines between “us” and “them.” They see the world in shades of gray, embracing complexity rather than division.
They engage with the world around them, asking questions about the news and seeking understanding in its chaos. They love love and detest hate, holding onto a vision of a better world, much like I did at their age. While some may fret over the future of this generation, I find solace in knowing that we are leaving our legacy in capable hands.
My children understand compassion not through lectures or books, but through our actions. As parents, our behaviors create the most impactful legacy.
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In summary, teaching kids through our actions is pivotal. They learn empathy and kindness by observing how we interact with the world around us. As we navigate parenting, let’s remember that what we do speaks volumes compared to what we say.