The reality of unexpected kindness

As the rain poured down, I prepared for what was surely going to be a difficult cross-country race for the girls. As the start drew near, I did my best to do what most parents do, take on the role of alternate coach. Describing how to clear their shoes of mud, avoid puddles, and steadily place each step seemed to come with a moderate amount of the girls simply appeasing good old dad through head nods, while internally hoping he would simply shush so they could get in the competitive mindset. The course was one which Lilli loved due to her success in the past. Down deep, I envisioned a good day for both girls considering Lilli’s love for the course and Riyann’s happiness with anything muddy.

As the starting whistle blew, off the mass of elementary girls went, gingerly competing for position. Within seconds, the first girl slipped, and the others diverted their course to ensure they didn’t fall as well. Before long, all the runners were out of sight and all the rain-soaked parents stood in bewilderment. Some, I’m sure, asked themselves why they were there, some why would anyone choose this, and others why they didn’t bring an umbrella.

As I changed my position along the course to ensure I could cheer on the girls during the last leg, I began seeing the race leaders in the distance. With excitement, I cheered on each runner as they crossed the finish line. As time passed, and runners finished, I became concerned because I hadn’t seen Lilli yet. Before long, the gold in her jersey became visible and I could barely contain my excitement as I cheered her on. As she finished her race my attention switched to Riyann and her race.

Before long, I was approached by a duo of young ladies who excitedly explained that “Lilli was hurt” and needed me. As I arrived at Lilli’s location, I learned that during the race she had slipped and twisted her ankle severely. As we spoke, and I assessed the injury, she described that she had fallen and couldn’t get back up. Lilli shared that while she sat on the ground, several girls from opposing teams stopped and helped her to her feet, encouraging her to finish the race strong. In the end, Lilli finished through her pain and ended up receiving a medal. As did the girls who helped her.

As I drove home that night, I just couldn’t get the race, Lilli’s fall, and the subsequent help from the other competitors out of my mind. The wiliness to forego your own success to help an opponent is not only rare, but for these young ladies, pure class in this parent’s mind. I began considering how often we look at others who are different than us, or fall within different groups, generations, or faiths, and construct a proverbial barrier within our own mind. In a sense, forever alienating them.

I am one of the world’s worst for making rash judgments about some within our younger generations and their lack of doing things the proper way... you know, my generation’s way. It’s an easy cavern to fall into. The kicker is, if we merely open our eyes, we may just see through their actions — just like I saw through the actions of these young ladies on a rainy fall afternoon in Ellsinore, Missouri, who gave of themselves to make sure a fellow athlete could finish her race — that there is good in all generations, young and old. Beyond the good, there is value therein. Be open my friends. For you never know when those you compete against or place in less than high regard may just lend a hand, helping you up from a fall.

Richard J. Stephens lives in Carter County and is the father of three little ladies ranging in age from 9 to 29.