Expectations and Kindness

When we took the wee ones to visit Santa at the mall the other night, I decided to put into action an idea I read about on Operation Nice.  The gist of it is to find a collection of those candy/toy machines and put quarters in the slots for some unsuspecting person to (joyfully) find. 

I was armed with a fist-full of quarters and all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning.  I could hardly contain myself.  I chose some of my favorite candy machines, slipped the quarters into the slots, then walked enough of a distance away so that I wouldn't be obvious, but yet could still watch what happened when someone found the surprise I had left. 

Well, I learned a lot in the moments that followed.  Mostly about myself.  And, I guess this is part of the journey; learning about oneself through doing.  A couple of things in particular:

•  I need not place expectations on acts of kindness.

• I should not wait for a reaction.

What happened?  Well, a mother and daughter walked up to the machines.  The mother had coins cupped in her right hand and her daughter's hand in her left.  I was trembling with excitement.  Will they look at one another with huge smiles?  Will they look around to see if they could lock eyes with the person who bestowed the quarters?  Which candy will they choose?  Will they choose a machine with the quarters in it?  Will they use one machine, then move along?  Will they pay it forward by depositing their coins into the machines for someone else to find?

There was no visible reaction.  None.  The mother spun the turnstile and collected the candy, then moved on to the next...then the next, etc. until all the quarters had been used.  The mother then put her coins into her pocket and walked away.  No smiles. 

My vision was so different than what I witnessed.  I had hoped that she would only use one of the machines and leave the rest for other unsuspecting children.  I had hoped that she would pay it forward by depositing the quarters she was going to use anyway into the slots for someone else to find.  Wouldn't it have been lovely for the joy to continue?  Wouldn't any parent see this as an incredible opportunity to teach their children about "paying it forward"? 

I had to fight myself to not feel let down.  I decided, instead, to think that the mother and daughter would go home that evening and discuss what happened, then think of something lovely to do for someone else in the coming week.  That's what I choose to believe. 

After all, isn't it the season of believing in the goodness of people and in magic ?