15 Feb 2026 There’s always a place for kindness

Posted at 8:43 PMh in Faith by

By Laurie Green

In December, my whole world took a hit when my husband went for a routine checkup that progressed to triple bypass surgery. Mind you, he has never had a surgery or even broken a bone in his 70 years, so this was quite an adventure.

I’m pretty sure the first week was nothing but a blur for me. Watching the person you love in pain and hooked to all kinds of machines is hard. After a week in Little Rock, we were released to Conway Baptist Health Rehabilitation Hospital. We made the decision to go there because we wanted Will to have the knowledge and confidence to do the activities he used to, while feeling comfortable doing them.

I’ve had a lot of quiet time to sit and reflect, and after several conversations in the middle of the night with Jesus, I started to feel my own heart heal. I don’t talk about this much, which I really should, but I’ve had to learn that I can love Jesus and go through difficult mental health issues. They can reside together. I walked through some really dark places and, in my mind, believed I was unworthy of the goodness and grace He has to offer. I reached a place where it felt like I couldn’t even pray anymore, yet here I was, pleading with God to let Will be okay.

Tragedy has a way of opening those lines of communication with our Creator. After all, it does say the Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

The more I talked, the more I became aware of everything happening around me. Look, I’m going to share something, and I hope it doesn’t come off rude, but years ago, when we first started going to church, I took a spiritual gift test. It sounded so fancy, and I felt like I was going to find out what God created me for. The test said that encouraging others was my gift, and when others discussed having the gifts of leadership or teaching, I felt like I was handed a participation award. It felt small and unimportant in the grand sense of purpose — until the last few weeks of 2025 as Will recuperated in the hospital.

As I would stagger downstairs to the café to find a meal at 2 a.m., I started seeing the nurses, techs, housekeeping staff, etc., and I began asking, “What can I do for you?” I offered simple things — an energy drink or something to snack on. With it being the holidays, I was overrun with sweet treats, so I started offering them to anyone who entered our room. Then I decided to set up a “giving table” in Will’s room.

The simple acts of kindness were becoming twofold: I was encouraging the workers, and that was encouraging me. I began to interact with individuals who were working long shifts during the holiday season. It’s not intentional, but it’s easy for us to forget that healthcare workers have lives and loved ones outside of work, and everyone just needs to feel “seen” and appreciated.

Over time, my giving table grew as I added candy, snacks, pens, highlighters and protein bars — little things that I could easily afford (because I’m not rich, and I didn’t win that dang lottery, LOL). I said I could spend “mama money.” I would tell them, “I can grab you something, but we’ve got to keep it under $20.”

We were isolated from family during the week of Christmas and until New Year’s Eve because, let’s face it, the crud was running rampant, and Will couldn’t afford to be sick. But our hearts were full each time we had a knock on our door and had a chance to offer items from the giving table. As we gave what we had, I received hugs, I saw exhausted tears and confused looks. I’ve heard more than once that this has never happened before, and what a blessing it was.

I have even had the opportunity to talk about how a simple nobody like me gets to be a top representative of the way Jesus asked us to love others — no judgment, just kindness wrapped up tightly in encouragement. My heart has undergone its own kind of healing transformation while I’ve walked alongside those people during Will’s heart journey.

Kindness is free, and there’s no such thing as giving too much of it. What I once thought was a participation award now feels a whole lot more like a superhero cape — and it turns out God knew exactly what He was doing all along.

Laurie Green
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