When I was growing up, we went to church on Sunday. There was no “deciding” if we should go or not. No negotiation. On Sunday, our family was in church. (Always in the same pew.) During the years my dad was struggling with cancer, I realized if Dad wasn’t going to church on a Sunday morning, he was feeling awful.
Our church had a wonderful organist, Henry Gall. He made that keyboard and the foot pedals sing. Later in my dad’s illness, my dad shared a little secret with me. He told me when Henry saw my dad in church, Henry always played my dad’s favorite hymns.
It’s been decades since my dad passed away, and Henry has since died, too. Yet, you can’t imagine how many times I have remembered that act of kindness Henry gave my dad. He noticed Dad’s presence and encouraged him with music.
I was in my mid-teens when my dad was sick. When I practiced playing the piano, Dad often commented and complimented the songs I played. I learned his favorites were “Somewhere, My Love,” “Melora” and a jazzy tune, “Alley Cat.” As a sometimes surly teen, my way of reaching out to Dad would be to play those songs when I couldn’t say the words in my heart.
I knew he was in the next room. I knew he was listening. And I somehow knew he “heard” what I couldn’t say.
I was just a few months past the age of 16 when my dad died in mid-April. A few weeks later, I was getting some groceries for Mom at Herr Mercantile. The fact Mother’s Day was the coming Sunday never crossed my mind. That is until Harriett Herr, who was the store’s owner, a friend and a classmate of my dad’s, gently touched my arm and spoke softly to me.
“Your dad always got your mom a corsage for Mother’s Day. It might be nice if you picked out one for her,” she said.
This was one of those moments in life that subtly changed me. Knowing Harriett was teaching me, encouraging me and showing me how life would go on without Dad comforted me immensely. I didn’t have to “do life” all on my own. There were others who would guide me. And I never again needed a reminder to get my mom a corsage for Mother’s Day.
There are countless ways our actions can encourage people, and it doesn’t take much.
On someone’s birthday, call and sing them the entire “Happy Birthday” song. If you’re not much of a singer, don’t worry. Sometimes, the worse you are, the more it means. (I should know.)
Hold the door for everyone. Motion for them to go ahead of you. Everyone loves to feel important, so treat them like royalty.
Bringing food to someone who is ill, mourning or just had a baby offers not only nourishment, but shows compassion for what they are going through, whether it is sorrow or the tired kind of joy.
It often doesn’t take too much extra effort to shovel a neighbor’s driveway, sweep leaves off a sidewalk or pick up a few fallen branches.
One afternoon, I was visiting my elderly aunt. Before I left, I asked if she wanted me to help her with anything. Her eyes lit up and she pointed at the kitchen clock high above both of our heads.
“Could you change the time for me?” It took me no time at all to stand on a chair (something she could no longer do) and make her clock “fall back.” After that, I always remembered to do it without her having to ask.
Sometimes, what’s required for encouragement takes a bit more effort. When our youngest daughter was completing the coursework for her doctorate, she hinted it would be nice if I could come to Texas and help with the activities leading up to her 5-year-old daughter, Circe, starting kindergarten.
A tour of the school and a meet-the-teacher event were happening at the exact time Tegan was supposed to be making a presentation to her doctoral cohorts and instructors, and Circe’s dad was out of the country for work.
Spending a week in August in Texas is not my ideal time to visit, but I knew my daughter needed me, so I went. As expected, it was HOT. Miserably so. And Circe was at summer day camp the days I was there. Tegan was in her office working. I was wondering why I was there.
I found things to do. I flattened boxes that had accumulated in the garage. In 10-minute dashes outside, I pulled weeds and trimmed small branches in the backyard, then came back inside to cool off. I did laundry. I made Tegan lunch and delivered it to her office. Then I rode along as we got Circe from camp.
I didn’t feel like I was doing much at all. And yet, I can’t tell you how many times in the days I was there, Tegan said, “Thank you for being here.” There was relief in her voice. That’s when I realized what she really needed was just knowing someone had her back.
What can you do to encourage someone today? It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Just picking up the phone and hearing someone say, “I’ve been thinking of you,” can change someone’s day for the better.
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Roxanne (Roxy) Henke does her best to encourage people from her home in rural North Dakota or wherever her travels take her. The kind comments of her readers encourage her. You can contact her at roxannehenke@gmail.com.
