Stories of Kindness from Around the World

"Carol Lee?" On our flight to New Orleans, the "Fasten Your Seat Belts" sign had just come on. Carol Lee was reading her book. She lifted her head, "What do you want to do in life?" I asked. I expected her to say she wanted to travel to Europe.

Carol Lee turned to me and said, "I would like to hold babies."

"Hold babies?" I was stunned. "You've got grandchildren."

"I would like to work in a hospital nursery and just hold the newborns."

Newborns? Her desire was one to ponder, which I did with each salty peanut I crunched. I looked out my little round window at New Orleans in the distance. Hold babies? Was she serious?

A beignet at Cafe Du Monde, the French Quarter, a walk and a tour of the Garden District - joie de vivre! St. Charles Avenue and the streetcar ride; moonlight dancing aboard a Mississippi riverboat; a final dinner at Emeril's. We were relaxing in the Big Easy, but there was so much to do that we hurried to get everything done before our time was gone. Then, our time was gone.

We returned the rental car, took our shoes off, got our bags through security, put our shoes on and walked to our departure gate. We then had a two-hour wait for our flight home. Carol Lee sat and read her book, but I'm not good at waiting. Electric carts with irritating beeper noises, a crowd of noisy people in plastic chairs near Carol Lee and a crying baby by the windows bothered me. I got up and explored the terminal. I know how to entertain myself. One of my pastimes is to look for celebrities. Wouldn't it be cool to be able to say, "You know who I saw in New Orleans?" And then deal with someone's awe? But, in N.O. International, as in other airports, all celebrities had shown poor judgment by eluding me.

Six postcards later, I came back. Carol Lee was blissfully reading her book. I tried sitting still, but the crying child and the loud voices annoyed me, so I got up and paced the floor. When I sat down again, Carol Lee motioned toward the windows and said, "I'm going to see if I can help that baby." In that moment, I realized her trip was not devoid of purpose, and I knew the only thing to do was to watch.

Carol approached the baby slowly with a smile on her face, love in her heart and peace on her mind. Understandably, the parents looked up. What did this little white-haired lady want? Carol Lee said something to the parents. They looked at one another and then at Carol Lee. They couldn't speak English. Carol Lee couldn't speak their language, but that didn't matter. Hand motions spoke volumes. Behind me, the noisy people were aggressively discussing something. Carol Lee remained resolute and focused on the crying child.

She opened her arms, the universal expression of acceptance. She forgot herself and her needs. She concentrated on the troubled and innocent child's needs. Sunlight shone through the windows behind her as, miracle of miracles, the parents handed over the crying baby to a peaceful stranger. Carol stood holding the baby and talking in the ubiquitous language of grandmothers. She cooed. She shushed. She hummed. She swayed rhythmically and held the infant close. She instantly became the Universal Grandmother loved by babies, welcomed by tired parents, treasured by the world. Her calmness was like the pebble thrown into a pond. The first ripple caused the child's anxieties to disappear. The next ripple caused the child's parents to relax. Another ripple caused me to relax.

Carol Lee motioned to the parents that she was going to walk around the seating area with the child. The parents nodded their approval. Carol Lee nodded. I nodded, but I don't know why. The noisy people were touched by the next ripple and watched in awe as Carol Lee performed the ancient ritual of ignoring all commotion and moving around a room full of people while being alone with an infant. When she returned to the smiling, grateful, tearful mother, the child was asleep. The noisy people began to whisper and I, well, I was spellbound. On the flight home, I stopped crunching peanuts when I realized I had walked all over that New Orleans terminal looking for famous people and had seen someone more important than any celebrity. She was not an athlete, not a movie star, and not Donald Trump. But she was someone who had the gift of demonstrating unconditional love.

When she first told me she wanted to hold babies, I confess that I did not see the magnanimity of her calling, but then, simple mission statements are often the most profound. Today, I translate her creed to look like this: If all babies get held and loved, they grow up to be happy children, ergo happy adults. If everyone is loved and loving, and holding newborns, who could take up arms and go to war?

It's a lesson grandparents can teach and learn while waiting in an airport.

[Original Story, by John Lesjack]