Earlier this week, my partner and I found ourselves working late, which threw off our usual routine. On our way home, he called to remind me that our pantry was practically empty—aside from some cat and dog food, the last two slices of bread from an old loaf, and a half jar of that delicious Cookie Butter from Trader Joe’s.
“I can swing by the drive-thru for McDonald’s,” I suggested. “I know it’s not our favorite, but the kids love it, plus it’s quick and inexpensive.” He agreed, and there I was, waiting in line at a place I usually avoid due to its Styrofoam containers, excessive sodium, and questionable labor practices. (I could go on, but I’ll spare you my Gen-X guilt trip.)
After placing an order for five, which apparently confounds their system, I was asked to pull over and wait for my food. Just as I was about to roll up my manual window (budgeting, you know), an older gentleman approached my car.
“Did they happen to toss an extra burger into your bag?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” I replied. “I’m still waiting for my order.”
“No problem, ma’am. God bless you, and I hope you have a wonderful evening.” He walked a few feet away and settled next to a tattered bag that looked like it had seen better days—possibly in the 1970s.
In the back seat, two of our three kids, Jake (14) and Mia (10), were listening. Just moments later, Jake turned to me, “Mom…”
“Yeah, Mom…” chimed in Mia.
“I know, I know. I’m just waiting for our food. Jake, can you handle this?”
“Sure thing!” he said confidently. I handed him a $10 bill, and he jumped out of the car to approach the gentleman.
With my window still down, I heard Jake say, “Let’s get you something to eat.” Together, they walked inside the restaurant.
A few minutes later, our order arrived, and Jake returned with some change. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I thanked him, and Mia added, “I hope he finds a warm place to sleep tonight.”
“Me too, sweetheart,” I responded. “But at least he’s not hungry anymore.”
“Yep,” I said, “that’s something.”
This moment fills me with immense pride for my children. They may not be the top of their class, they sometimes forget their homework, and they struggle with cleaning their rooms. But they possess a beautiful and profound compassion.
They don’t see “us” versus “them.” They see “we.” They don’t categorize by “black” and “white” but rather understand the in-between shades of gray. They listen to me discuss the news, asking thoughtful questions about the chaos in the world, even when I tell them that much of it defies logic.
They embrace love and reject hate, dreaming of the same ideal world I envisioned at their age—thoughts that have sometimes faded as I grew older and faced harsh realities.
While many adults fret over the younger generation, I look at my kids and think, “Our future is in capable hands.” They understand compassion not from lectures or books, but through the actions we’ve demonstrated.
As parents, the most significant legacy we leave behind is the example we set through our actions.
This post is part of the 1000 Voices for Compassion Campaign.
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To summarize, teaching our children the importance of compassion through our actions can shape a more empathetic future. They learn not through words alone, but by observing how we treat others.
Keyphrase: Actions Speak Louder Than Words Parenting
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