Recently, my partner and I experienced an unusually late night at work. On our way home, he called to remind me that we had neglected to go grocery shopping that weekend, leaving our pantry nearly empty. Well, except for some pet food, the last two slices of bread, and half a jar of organic almond butter.
“I could swing by a fast food place,” I suggested. “I know it’s not our first choice, but the kids enjoy it and it’s quick and affordable?” He agreed, and soon I found myself in the drive-thru line of a restaurant I typically avoid. Concerns about Styrofoam containers, excessive sodium, and ethical labor practices flooded my mind.
After placing an order for five, which apparently overwhelmed the system, I was instructed to pull to the side and await my food. As I began to roll up my manual window (budget constraints, you know), an older gentleman approached my car.
“Did they happen to include an extra burger in your order?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” I replied.
“That’s alright, ma’am. God bless you, and I hope your evening goes well.” He then shuffled away, sitting beside a worn-out bag that looked like it had been there since the ’70s.
Our two children in the backseat, Alex (14) and Mia (10), exchanged glances. “Mom…” Alex began, followed closely by Mia’s echo, “Yeah, Mom…”
“I know, guys. We just need to wait for our food. Alex, do you think you could take care of this?”
“Absolutely,” he replied. I handed him a $10 bill, which he took and walked over to the gentleman.
With the window still down, I could hear Alex say, “Let’s go get you some dinner,” as they made their way inside.
A couple of minutes later, an employee delivered our order while Alex returned with some change. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I thanked him, and Mia chimed in, “I hope he finds a warm place to sleep tonight.”
“Me too, sweetheart,” I said.
“But at least he’s not hungry now,” she added.
“Exactly,” I responded.
This moment filled me with pride for my children. They may not be the most academically inclined, nor the most athletically gifted, and their rooms might resemble mini-disasters. But what they possess is a profound and beautiful compassion.
They don’t see divisions between “them” and “us.” They perceive the world in shades of gray instead of black and white. They engage with current events, asking questions as they try to comprehend the chaos around us—even when I often express that much of it is nonsensical.
They embody love and reject hate, yearning for a better world, a desire reminiscent of my own childhood aspirations that faded as I grew older. While many lament the future of this generation, I look at my kids and realize that our legacy is in capable hands.
My children understand compassion not through lectures or literature, but through lived experiences. As parents, our actions create the most significant impact on their values and beliefs.
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In summary, teaching our children the importance of compassion through our actions is vital. It’s not about perfection but about the values we instill in them through our everyday choices.
Keyphrase: Actions speak louder than words in parenting
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