Some of my best thinking is inspired by the smallest of comments. My latest ‘think’ was inspired by something Ben said when I had the chance to tuck him in one night.
Ben loves his bedtime routine. The routine includes bedlunch, books, star projector, visit to talk about the day, and best of all, the putting on his eye mask. When I said my final ‘Sleep tight Ben, I love you’, he responded as he always does, with ‘Can you check me in a quick five?’
Ben loves it when he knows someone will check on him once he’s asleep. I agreed to the five-minute check but the truth is while I always agree to it, if I only hear silence, I often just go to his door and open it quietly. If he’s asleep, which is usually the case, I close it right back up and stealthily head back downstairs. This predictable routine was what I was expecting on this night too as I agreed to the five-minute check.
However, just as I was set to close his door, Ben sat up in bed, lifted his eye mask (it’s quite a sight to see) and with great seriousness said, ‘Gramma, when you come to check me, don’t just peek in the door. Make sure you come over and hug me. Don’t worry, I’m a deep sleeper. If I am asleep, I won’t wake up, but if I’m awake, because of the mask I won’t see you, but I’d hate to miss out on a hug.’
That comment hit home. Hard. You can be sure I didn’t just do a ‘from the doorway check’ that night.
I’ve thought a lot about that comment since then. How often do we assume that an idea to do a small gesture for someone else could easily be skipped over by us knowing no one will be the wiser. After all, if someone doesn’t know we were going to call, what difference will it make if we call or not.
If we think someone has done a good job on a project, we might think about stopping by their office to tell them, but then rethink and not go, ‘knowing’ that since they didn’t know we were thinking about it, it won’t matter. If we remember a person loves a particular thing, we might plan to add an extra stop on our way home to pick it up. But then, with traffic bad, and a long day behind us we could easily rethink, knowing that since they didn’t ever know we had the thought, it wouldn’t really matter.
The thing is, maybe it does matter.
It has mattered to me when people have shown small unnecessary kindnesses. It has mattered when others have known about some tiny treat I might enjoy, and have taken the time give it to me. It has mattered when someone took the time to give me a compliment.
Ben’s little comment has challenged me to keep asking myself, ‘Does it really matter?’ Most often the answer is yes.
Just before Christmas an Amazon package arrived at our door, likely one of the many things we had ordered. When I went outside to get it there was also a hand-delivered card on our step. I brought it in, opened it and was touched to find a gorgeous Christmas card from the children and staff at our neighbourhood school, which is only a few doors away. It was coloured by hand and contained a beautiful Christmas message. It was so unexpected and so lovely.
It mattered. This small, unexpected gesture mattered.
A few weeks later, as I cleaned up after the holiday, I re-read the card and wished I knew who to thank. I remembered my teaching years, when the days preceding the Christmas holiday were so busy, with so many things happening in schools. I thought to myself that the students, with all the busyness, had likely forgotten all about the cards.
Then I remembered Ben’s comment. I took out a nice hand-painted card I had on hand and wrote a little note to the students and staff thanking them for their Christmas kindness. I walked over to the school and dropped it at the office. The administrative assistant was delighted. She called the principal who was also delighted and said they’d read it to the students and staff.
I’ll bet hearing the contents of the card mattered to at least someone. I’ll bet there was more than one student, who had loved this project, who hoped this thank you was meant just for them.
I’m going to continue to do things that of course won’t matter if I don’t do them, but just might make all the difference to someone if I do.
Ben was sound asleep when I checked on him that night. He got his hug anyway. Andy got one too, even though he’d only asked for a quick check and hadn’t mentioned a hug.
Maybe they’ll never know. But I like to think it’ll be one of those things that mattered.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What if this matters?’
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to ‘make it matter’.
Ben loves his bedtime routine. The routine includes bedlunch, books, star projector, visit to talk about the day, and best of all, the putting on his eye mask. When I said my final ‘Sleep tight Ben, I love you’, he responded as he always does, with ‘Can you check me in a quick five?’
Ben loves it when he knows someone will check on him once he’s asleep. I agreed to the five-minute check but the truth is while I always agree to it, if I only hear silence, I often just go to his door and open it quietly. If he’s asleep, which is usually the case, I close it right back up and stealthily head back downstairs. This predictable routine was what I was expecting on this night too as I agreed to the five-minute check.
However, just as I was set to close his door, Ben sat up in bed, lifted his eye mask (it’s quite a sight to see) and with great seriousness said, ‘Gramma, when you come to check me, don’t just peek in the door. Make sure you come over and hug me. Don’t worry, I’m a deep sleeper. If I am asleep, I won’t wake up, but if I’m awake, because of the mask I won’t see you, but I’d hate to miss out on a hug.’
That comment hit home. Hard. You can be sure I didn’t just do a ‘from the doorway check’ that night.
I’ve thought a lot about that comment since then. How often do we assume that an idea to do a small gesture for someone else could easily be skipped over by us knowing no one will be the wiser. After all, if someone doesn’t know we were going to call, what difference will it make if we call or not.
If we think someone has done a good job on a project, we might think about stopping by their office to tell them, but then rethink and not go, ‘knowing’ that since they didn’t know we were thinking about it, it won’t matter. If we remember a person loves a particular thing, we might plan to add an extra stop on our way home to pick it up. But then, with traffic bad, and a long day behind us we could easily rethink, knowing that since they didn’t ever know we had the thought, it wouldn’t really matter.
The thing is, maybe it does matter.
It has mattered to me when people have shown small unnecessary kindnesses. It has mattered when others have known about some tiny treat I might enjoy, and have taken the time give it to me. It has mattered when someone took the time to give me a compliment.
Ben’s little comment has challenged me to keep asking myself, ‘Does it really matter?’ Most often the answer is yes.
Just before Christmas an Amazon package arrived at our door, likely one of the many things we had ordered. When I went outside to get it there was also a hand-delivered card on our step. I brought it in, opened it and was touched to find a gorgeous Christmas card from the children and staff at our neighbourhood school, which is only a few doors away. It was coloured by hand and contained a beautiful Christmas message. It was so unexpected and so lovely.
It mattered. This small, unexpected gesture mattered.
A few weeks later, as I cleaned up after the holiday, I re-read the card and wished I knew who to thank. I remembered my teaching years, when the days preceding the Christmas holiday were so busy, with so many things happening in schools. I thought to myself that the students, with all the busyness, had likely forgotten all about the cards.
Then I remembered Ben’s comment. I took out a nice hand-painted card I had on hand and wrote a little note to the students and staff thanking them for their Christmas kindness. I walked over to the school and dropped it at the office. The administrative assistant was delighted. She called the principal who was also delighted and said they’d read it to the students and staff.
I’ll bet hearing the contents of the card mattered to at least someone. I’ll bet there was more than one student, who had loved this project, who hoped this thank you was meant just for them.
I’m going to continue to do things that of course won’t matter if I don’t do them, but just might make all the difference to someone if I do.
Ben was sound asleep when I checked on him that night. He got his hug anyway. Andy got one too, even though he’d only asked for a quick check and hadn’t mentioned a hug.
Maybe they’ll never know. But I like to think it’ll be one of those things that mattered.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What if this matters?’
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to ‘make it matter’.
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