This afternoon I said goodbye to a colleague/mentor/friend. I normally hug her neck at the end-of-the-year lunch we have at school, but Miss O. slipped out before anyone noticed. I figured I’d see her around the first of August, since we both tend to go up before the rush to set our rooms up for the new school year. I chuckled at the thought of her Washington DC trip materials piled high on her rolling chair; she would push it all the way to the gym to convince more 8th graders to join her on this magical trip. I thought about maybe working registration this year.
This afternoon, as I sat in the funeral home chapel among a crowd of students, faculty, and family, the weight of finality began seeping its way into my heart when I realized registration and the school year would not be the same. I also remembered not saying a proper goodbye just a few weeks earlier.
If only there had been five more minutes.
That thought of “if only I would have…” is a universal regret we often feel after losing someone. However, that concept of taking five more minutes doesn’t have to be connected to their death.
How many times have we heard in response to “Go to bed and turn off your light,” the “Aw mom, just five more minutes!” I was notorious for missing my curfew because I hated the idea of thinking I’d miss out on something really fun.
That idea of “just a few minutes more” can be our outlook on life as a whole. What kind of impact would it create if you took those five minutes to listen to your child or spouse share about their day? What about taking a few minutes to allow the elderly gentleman to skip ahead of you in line at the grocery store with his small basket of items? As a teacher, what would it hurt to spend a few minutes after school listening to a student pour out their life to you because they feel you care? It all causes ripples.
Taking those few minutes (if for the right reasons) to make a small difference is, in my opinion, one of the most Christ-like things we can do. I am remembering the story of Jesus and the woman at the well. He didn't have to spend time listening to her or talking with her—it was a choice. He made the time to meet with her. She knew he cared.
By the size of the crowd at my friend’s funeral, I would say she took time to make those around her—friends, family, coworkers, or students—feel appreciated and cared for, too.
What can you do? Think of something simple that only takes a few minutes that will cause a ripple. Judging by the morning headlines, there isn’t enough kindness in the world (or at least we’re not hearing about them). Your simple act of kindness may not make the whole world a better place, but it will certainly improve the world around you. Take five minutes and make a change.
