Kindness. I looked up the definition but found it unsatisfactory.

I have decided it is a word in it’s own category, and one that is defined by action.

Kindness is when the bus lady seeks me out to show me that this is where I should get off. I had asked her if the bus went to Jukov, and she said yes. I knew the stop very well, in fact, but she didn’t know that. Not many bus ladies take the time to remember – let alone make an effort to help – a young touristy type with only a bit of fractured Mongolian.

A bit of kindness in a city of a million faces

is very refreshing.

Kindness is a quiet knock on the bedroom door when the child I am sort of supposed to be watching is sent to fetch me for lunch. My head cold had kept me up most of the night and even my face hurts. The lady who helps in the day has made binsch, and tells me it is good to eat soup when I am sick.

It is so nice to be fed soup when you are sick.

That woman has no idea how wonderful she is.

Kindness is walking up a mountain and watching the boys in our youth group call to their sisters that they’ll carry the backpack. It’s seeing them be gentle with the 8 year olds in gym class, though at 16, I’m sure blob tag gets tedious.

Kindness is when their parents invite us for supper, offer us rides, and ask when they can make cookies for youth group.

I thought we came to serve you?

Kindness, I have decided, is never overrated.