Kindness at 1:45 a.m.; two strangers waiting

I almost always notice kindness, but it is particularly comforting when it’s most needed.

In 2025, my husband Jim was found to have a rare form of melanoma in the eye which required the immediate removal of his left eye.

His doctor told us that it would likely recur in the liver, and it has.

Last week after Jim’s latest three-month scan, the doctor called within a half hour and instructed us to go immediately to the U of M emergency room.

That experience is a story for another day, but by the time Jim was admitted to a room, it was 1:45 a.m. and I was ready to head home.

I made my way to the ER parking area but no attendant was around. So I had to walk to the Taubman Center to look for someone.

The receptionist, surprisingly even on duty at 1:45 a.m., called the attendant, who reported he was on the other side of the hospital and would return soon. I sat down to wait.

It was there that I experienced a brief, yet memorable moment of kindness.

As I waited, up walked a man who didn’t fit the stereotype of a kind and gentle soul, but as soon as our eyes met, I knew he was.

He too was waiting for the attendant. We locked eyes and simultaneously commented, “Long day!”

We sat companionably and chatted as we waited. He had been visiting a friend who had had a series of surgeries and was in great pain.
The patient’s wife had been with him for days, and my companion in the waiting room had stepped in to give her a break.

He had been there for most of the day and half the night, but even though his friend was in pain, he had to leave for work. He had to be in Lansing in a few hours for a job project.

With a kind and gentle demeanor, he spoke of how the parking attendant when he dropped off his car had been rude.

But, he said, that attendant was probably just having a bad day. He said that people often have bad days and he understood.

He told me his father had recently died and he had moved back to Michigan to help his mother and cousins. I talked about why I was there, and we commiserated.

The parking attendant returned in about 20 minutes, but my friend and I lingered in the waiting area to converse a few minutes longer.

It was a small interaction, but not a small kindness.

I almost always notice kindness, but it is particularly comforting when it’s most needed.

About the author: Rev. Sharon Smith is pastor at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, a writer, and an observer of humanity. She believes some of the holiest moments in life happen in hospital waiting rooms, laundramats, and grocery store checkout lines. She enjoys starting conversations with kind, complete strangers at 1:45 a.m.

Contact Sharon at dave@tri-citytimes.com