Little Things Count for a Lot

We’re currently engaged in some spring cleaning at my house, prompted primarily by the fact that we’re getting new carpet in our basement next week. It’s funny how many things we find we don’t need when we’re trying to clear out an entire level of the house.

My wife posts pictures of furniture we’re ready to part with on a neighborhood Facebook group. We’re always glad when we can help neighbors provide furniture for their children moving out or to use in their extra space.

On Saturday, our friend Bruce came by to pick up a table and some chairs we were giving away. The rainy day didn’t provide perfect conditions, but it was a short trip for the furniture in the back of their truck. Bruce is around my age (let’s just say over 55), and I thought he was brilliant that he brought a folding step stool to make climbing into the bed of his truck easier as we loaded the furniture.

He got everything set in the truck bed and stood on the tailgate ready to step down to his stool. I offered him my hand to steady him during the step, but as soon as he lifted a foot to move off the truck, the combination of a wet tailgate, wet rubber shoes, and gravity set Bruce crashing onto my driveway. It happened so fast that I barely provided any support by taking his hand. Bruce landed flat on his back and then whiplashed his head on the concrete. To add insult to injury, he pulled me down on top of him when he landed.

Fortunately, Bruce wasn’t seriously injured. He didn’t split his head open, he wasn’t dizzy upon standing, and all his joints were working correctly. The worst damage appeared to be that he ripped a favorite pair of pants. We were all relieved.

But I worried about him the rest of the day. Sometimes the day after produces aches and pains you didn’t realize in the moment, so I made a mental note to call Bruce 24 hours later to see how he was. A few hours after the incident, my phone rang and I could see the call was from Bruce. “Oh, no,” I thought. “He’s calling to tell me about an injury he discovered. I hope it’s not too bad.”

I was wrong. I answered with, “Bruce, are you okay?” He responded, “I’m fine. I’m calling to see if you’re okay. I realized that you were trying to help me, and I pulled you down with me.”

What? He landed flat on his back on the concrete. I kind of fell slow motion over top of him and caught myself with my hands in a kind of awkward downward dog position. Why would he be worried about me?

“I’ve been reliving that moment,” Bruce told me. “If I hadn’t been holding on to you when I fell, I don’t know what would have happened.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “I was totally worthless. I didn’t keep you from falling at all.”

“No,” he said. “You slowed the fall just enough that I didn’t land with full force. I think I could have been seriously hurt if I hadn’t had that support.” I was touched by his call, and surprised that he considered my feeble efforts significant.

What made his phone call and my weak offering of a hand significant? Both were simple acts of caring. Never underestimate the difference you can make by offering a hand, literally or figuratively, even if the hand didn’t seem to do much. A phone call to show you care, a sincere thank you note, providing lunch for a coworker on deadline, or publicly thanking a team member for their contributions can go a long way to lift others and show you care.

By the way, I did check in with Bruce today, and he’s still doing okay. We’ve still got a few items we’re in the process of giving away. But we’ll never give away good friends who recognize even simple acts of kindness.

Mark Carpenter is a consultant, facilitator, coach, and co-author of the best-selling book "Master Storytelling: How to Turn Your Experiences Into Stories that Teach, Lead, and Inspire." www.master-storytelling.com