Three sweet little things I want to tell you about.
It’s something that doesn’t happen often when you live in South Carolina, but sometime in the dark early hours Sunday morning, I woke up cold. We haven’t yet turned on the heat, and temperatures outside—unbeknownst to me—had dropped into the 40s. Chilled, I curled into a tighter ball and tried to fall back to sleep. ~ Not long after, my husband-the-early-riser got up for the day. In the dark and cold, he pulled the down comforter from the basket beside our dresser and, thinking I was still asleep, quietly lofted it over me and tiptoed from the bedroom. What a thoughtful thing to do I thought, snuggling beneath the blankets. What a sweet bit of love.
The sermon was so good I was taking notes. Seriously—writing things down in the margins of my church bulletin. And that’s about the time the tickle started in my throat that signaled a serious cough on the rise. I tried to suppress it, to hold it back, but this dang cough insisted on itself and I knew I had to get out or I was going to ruin the sermon for every person in our congregation. I made a run for it and hid out in a Sunday School corner until I could calm my loud, scratchy cough. Recovered, I tiptoed back to the door that leads to the choir loft. Just as I reached for the knob the cough started up again, this time with an even greater vengeance. ~ Eventually, I slipped back into my seat. There waiting for me on the cushion (as if manna from heaven) someone had placed an unassuming little cough drop. What a simple little thing, I thought again, gratefully unwrapping it. And how very thoughtful.
You know what it’s like to go on a wonderfully fun trip, then have to face that first day back in the office? There’s great terror about what you’ll find on your desk, what “issues” have collected that are sitting there, as if in wait. ~ It’s just what I faced last week when I came home from the remarkable Oprah weekend in Washington, DC. Backpack over my shoulder, water bottle in my hand, I bravely opened the door to my office and took a courageous look. Here’s what I found.
I smiled, knowing the pretty feather napkins had been left for me by my friend and co-worker, Katy. What a happy little surprise, I thought. How very thoughtful.
There are people in this world who are good at thoughtful. Don’t you agree? They smooth life’s rough edges with tiny little gestures—unassuming offerings that soften the way. Their thoughtful doesn’t scream, or demand acknowledgement, or seek the spotlight. Instead it slips into life quietly, passing under the radar, content to be a gentle little voice heard deep in the heart.
I know you. I care. I want to help, says thoughtful. And I don’t need a single thing in return.
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The simplicity of the small gestures resonate don’t they?. When we least expect it we’re touched by the unexpected and doesn’t it feel great!
Right? And no one is better at the unexpected than you, my friend!
Little miracles everywhere.
Thoughtfulness . . . maybe it’s just another name for love. That’s what I felt reading this. xo
I think it is love, Julie. Love indeed!