In life, I am convinced, it’s the small things that mean the most. Random acts of kindness if you will, which in truth really are not random, they are purposeful. Most of us won’t find the cure for cancer, win a Nobel Peace Prize, rescue someone from a burning building or anything else the world considers “big”. Does that mean we can’t make a difference in the world around us? Absolutely not.
I live my life guided by the mantra that random acts of kindness really do matter, that what I do is important, and quite possibly very meaningful to someone else. Truthfully, sometimes the things I do for others seem to go unnoticed, but that doesn’t stop me from doing them. I get immense personal satisfaction quietly doing things for others, and every once in a while, I am privileged enough to get a glimpse of someone’s response. Such was the case a recently.
Several weeks ago I had my final check up with my neurosurgeon. She’s seen me through eighteen months of recovery after my broken neck. She gave me my life my back. Certainly all glory goes to God, but she was the vessel he chose to use. I wanted her to know how much her intervention meant to me, so I wrote her a note. I thanked her for putting me back together again. I told her how grateful I was not only to be alive, but to be completely restored. I told her about the three half marathons I’ve run since the accident. I told her about the person records I’ve achieved in two post-recovery 5K’s. I shared with her all the highlights and triumphs I have experienced in the 18 months since the wreck. I told her that I am convinced God made her my doctor, that although other surgeons were capable of performing that surgery, that she was the right one for me. I handed it to her at the end of my appointment, we hugged and I walked out the door for the last time. When we got to the car, I grabbed my phone to turn the ringer back on and there was a voicemail. In the two minutes since I had walked out of her office, my doctor had read the card, gone to the trouble to look up my phone number and called to tell me how much the card meant to her. She said that in her line of work patients rarely say thank you. She loved what I said about God choosing her to be my doctor. I saved that voicemail as a reminder that the small things really do matter.