A simple act of compassion can shift a person’s life

September 21, 2022

By Jeff Becraft

 

Last week I talked about the Heritage Trail tour of local gas stations. This week we’ll wrap up that historical experience. (Some of the names have been changed.)

For one of the stops on the way back from Arkansas, we stopped at a big, new Love’s truck stop. It wasn’t very cultural… but it was nice. I thought that maybe on the way home, we had had enough culture and we were going to go for convenience. Much later in the day, we had to make a gas stop and I saw a billboard for another Love’s and suggested we could take that exit.

Once we got on the ramp and saw the little blue signs with the arrows and how far everything is, I point to the left and say, “Love’s is .5 miles that way.” Dan, the driver and one of my mentors, says, “I’m not going no .5 miles… we’re going right across the street.”

For all the math people out there, if you are driving 30 mph, that will take you exactly 60 seconds to go .5 miles. Just sayin’.

The gas station across the street was newer and almost didn’t make it on to the registry for the Heritage Trail. But for other points, which you will see in a moment, it snuck onto the list.

There was a kid (not of our group) who was locked in the men’s room. That meant 19 of us were in line to use the women’s room… which was a single engine unit. There was no soap. I mean, why would you want soap in a bathhouse? To cut down on the spread of germs or something?

After about 20 minutes, I’m the second one in line.  Elodie says to me, “Becraft, you can go.”  To which I respond, “No, that’s OK… I’ll wait my turn just like everyone else.  You’re next in line so you can go ahead.”  She responds, “The men’s room just came open.” And I respond, “That kid has been in there for 20 minutes. He probably has typhoid fever or something. And you are sending me in right after him?  What kind of shenanigans is this?”

After the bathhouse expedition, it is decided that we will eat while we are stopped. The buffet table is the back of the bus, which is by one of the pumps. I am standing on the pavement at the door of the back of the bus.

Next to me on the ground is a smashed rat that someone at some point had run over a long time ago.  The rat’s name is Wilbur Baggins.  This is exactly what I look for when I go to a restaurant: “Hey…  can I have the table that has the smashed rat right next to it on the floor?  It’s my favorite.”

It was every person for themselves for dinner. Up in the bus was Sally. She was making her peanut butter sandwich. While she still had the peanut butter and knife in her hand, I simply asked, “Hey Sally, while you got the stuff in your hand, would you mind just slapping some peanut butter on some bread for me?”

Now, with all the trips, retreats, and camps I have done with this group, I have never even once asked someone to make my sandwich for me.  I am not sure what motivated me to ask that question now. Was I tired? Was I occupied with having Wilbur right next to me on the asphalt?  I don’t know. It just came out of my mouth.

Sally took out a slice of bread and started spreading peanut butter on it. Now, when I spread peanut butter on a piece of bread, I just slap it on there like Zoro or something and it is all clumped up.  It looks like the Badlands or something.  But Sally was like an artist working that knife and a smooth layer of peanut butter covered every square inch of that piece of bread.  She put another piece of bread on top of it and handed me my sandwich and said, “Here you go, Becraft.”  I said, “Thank you, Sally… I appreciate it.”

Now, this is not Sally’s job. This is not in her job description somewhere. It is not her responsibility to make someone else’s sandwich.

But this small act of kindness meant a lot to me towards the end of this long trip. Obviously, I still remember it. I wrote about it in my journal when I got home. Who knows what difficulties and hardships this girl has been through in her life… and yet she still shows kindness to someone standing outside the bus’s back door.

Even when we have faced tragedies in our lives, those tragedies do not have to shape who we are. There were many stories and acts for one another by many people throughout that trip… and this simple act brought joy and hope to my own life in how we can treat one another.

A simple act of compassion can shift a person’s life by five degrees… and beyond.

 

Jeff Becraft is the Director Emeritus for Youth Corps and has dedicated much of his life to helping shift the vision of people’s lives. Youth Corps is a life-changing leadership development experience that inspires high school students to be leaders in the Midlands and beyond. You can connect with Jeff at [email protected].