I have a simple little story, but it means so much. It was garage sale season, and my mom loves exploring them, searching for hidden treasures. She delights in admiring old glass, imagining the lives and stories behind antiques, and thinking about the purpose each item once served. Being an avid knitter and crocheter, she’s always on the lookout to add to her yarn and craft stash.
One summer, she came across a garage sale where a bag of yarn caught her eye—needles poking out from the top. Curious, she asked the woman running the sale how much it cost. The woman replied, “Five dollars. My grandma had started a project but never finished it before she passed away.” My mom expressed her condolences and bought the bag, sensing its significance.
At home, she opened it and discovered a partially completed granny square blanket tucked beneath the yarn. She immediately began working on it, mending loose ends, and as she did, she realized something beautiful: this blanket wasn’t really hers. She was continuing the work of someone who could no longer finish it. Every stitch she added was a quiet act of love and remembrance.
When the blanket was complete, my mom drove back to the house where she had bought it. She handed the finished blanket to the granddaughter and said she hoped it would bring comfort and a sense of closeness to her grandmother whenever she wrapped herself in it to read a book or watch TV. The granddaughter was moved to tears, hugging my mom tightly, overwhelmed by both the blanket and the kindness behind it.
My mom saw a project that needed finishing and knew she could lend a little time and love to complete it. And isn’t that how life often works? We all pick up where someone else left off, mending the loose ends, stepping in where we can make a difference. The granddaughter could have easily posted online, offering to pay someone to finish the blanket, turning it into a transaction. But kindness isn’t a business—it’s doing something because your heart tells you to, with no expectation of reward.
This is how I was raised. If you have a skill, a talent, or a way to help someone, you don’t wait to be asked—you just do it. And yes, you do get something in return, but it’s the best kind of reward: joy. The joy of knowing you’ve made someone’s day brighter, of leaving a small but meaningful mark on the world. You tell people you admire them, step in when someone needs help, fill in the missing pieces whenever you can. It’s simple, yet it’s everything. And in the end, it’s kindness that truly matters—it always has, and it always will.
