“Imagine what our real neighbors would be like if each of us offered, as a matter of course, just one kind word to another person. There have been so many stories about the lack of courtesy, the impatience of today’s world, road rage and even restaurant rage. Sometimes, all it takes is one kind word to nourish another person. Think of the ripple effect that can be created when we nourish someone. One kind empathetic word has a wonderful way of turning into many.”
I think it’s easy to feel powerless in the face of such big problems in the world. It’s easy to feel like you don’t have what the world needs—or you don’t have the solutions that these big situations require. But we forget how much power we do have. We forget that we have the power to help other people feel and experience their gifts, their light—what makes them them and why it’s wonderful they are who they are. We forget we have this power, and we forget how much of a difference that power can make. How long lasting it is. How much it provides ballast in hard times and energy for difficult transitions. How it helps people persist when they feel like quitting or helps them show up one more time when self-doubt has taken over.
I’ve had a file in my filing cabinet since the early 90’s labeled the “smile file.” Inside are farewell cards from programs and hospital units I have worked on, notes from kids and students, student evaluations and letters of recommendation. I have some of my old papers where the professor wrote a note at the bottom. It’s the flotsam and jetsam from the very beginning of my work life in residential treatment through graduate school to my current work in consulting. There are birthday cards and post-it notes. Any note that someone gave me that made me smile and made me feel hopeful about the work I was doing or my future.
Some of the notes or letters were ones that were required by the organization or an aspect of my training—year-end reviews or letters of recommendation for the internships or my post-doc. But most of what is in the file is just pure generosity. They are notes no one had to write—they were just kind words—the most simple and beautiful gifts.
One of my professors in my master’s program, Rick, wrote encouraging notes on my papers. And through the years that I was working to get into a doctoral program, while I endured disappointment after disappointment, I read and re-read those notes to give me the hope to persist in my goal. Four sentences scrawled on the bottom of a 2-page paper was literally a dream-saving life raft of sustenance during those years. Four sentences. Such simple, huge power they had in my life.
More kind words. One of my supervisors early in my training, Sharon, wrote an unsolicited letter of recommendation that was really just a letter for me as I already had my placement for the following year. The unit had gone through a crazy transition a week after I had arrived: the hospital and psychologists on the unit wouldn’t sign the new contract, so they all left and the unit I was on reverted to a different hospital system. Week 2 of my second clinical placement as a student and I was suddenly the senior psychologist on the unit, and I would be for the next 6 months. Sharon captured the work I did that year, and the way I managed through that situation- but what had me read and re-read that letter over the years, especially on my worst days—was her hope and conviction in my strengths and what they meant for my future. At every big moment where I had to do something I didn’t think I could do, or when I felt like I had totally failed—I read and re-read that letter—and borrowed her certainty about my bright future.
A card from my therapist when I was in an awful stuck place and thought it would be best for both of us if I quit, and her kind reminder that I would feel better in the long run if I hung in there, and that it was her plan to stick with me through that stuck place. And a card from my mother-in-law on a really bad day, and a card from a dear friend who sat at my desk and reflected her joy at seeing my workspace and all the things I might do in it. Cards from nieces and nephews. Get-well cards and pictures from great-nieces and nephews.
It's hard even to say how powerful some of these words were. Because they aren’t just words: they are an energy source. They are something that helps you feel connected—to the people who wrote them—yes, but also to a future version of you. To a you that you can’t yet see. To a you that needs you to persist. To a you that is trying to break through the soil and needs a bit more time to grow. A little more water. A little more light.
I think we sometimes think of kind words as just being nice. And what I am trying to say is that a couple kind words can be the reason you know you exist. The reason you know you matter. You have this power. We all have this power. To share a note. A card. A couple of kind words. A few sentences. To bolster hope. Help people see in themselves the spark that we see in them. Your throwaway line. Your 15-minute card. Your thoughtful letter. Your text letting them know you are rooting for them on their big day. Your kind words can literally be the fuel of someone’s future.
© 2023/2025 Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD
