Small Lessons

My Husby had taken me to see The Hobbit.

Wow.

We both loved it.

It is the story of a small, seemingly unremarkable person.

Who changes the course of his world’s history.

My favourite kind of story.

There is a place in the tale, where the man who was instrumental in starting this small person on his remarkable journey is asked why he did so.

Why did he choose as he did?

His answer?

He had noted that it’s the small things that truly make a difference.

The little, daily acts of kindness that matter.

Those ‘seemingly insignificant’ people whose small efforts effect the biggest changes.

I cried.

Because that is my reaction to everything.

And it got me thinking.

A few years ago, I wrote a novel, Magic. It is the story of one person who lives in a world which thinks that the sad, ill treatment of a particular group of people is, woefully, acceptable.

He stands against this thinking.

Alone, for the most part.

It is a story of courage.

A story of doing what is right, even when everyone around you disagrees.

The abused people in the tale?

They react to their ill treatment with kindness.

Patience.

Even love.

In the ensuing years, I have been invited to visit dozens of schools in my area to discuss the lessons in this book with the children. To deliberate with them whether it’s okay for one group of people to treat another group with disdain.

Indifference.

Even cruelty.

At one point, to put things into their perspective, I have asked them to consider what they would do if a bully pushes them down, bruising and scraping their hands.

Then runs away laughing.

And shortly after falls, breaking his arm.

What would they do?

Every student . . . EVERY STUDENT . . . says immediately, that they would go and help.

I pretend to protest. 

“But he has just hurt you! He pushed you down!”

Universally, their answer, “But it’s the right thing to do!”

One young man said, “You don’t want to descend to his level!”

I have learned something amazing.

These smallest, seemingly unremarkable people in our world, are capable of the greatest acts of kindness.

The most forgiveness.

The purest love.

Qualities less seen among the adults. Especially in this present age of political division and differing ideologies.

So when do we lose that ability?

We must have had it.

But somewhere between childhood and growing up, it gets . . . lost.

I know I would think twice before going to help that person who was just mean to me. Or feel sorry for someone who ‘brought it on themselves’.

I think I would do it.

I hope I would.

I hope I would be like the children.

Would you?