The Many Thoughts of Wanda Kidd

As the holidays approach, I think of gift-giving and its impact on people.

The gifts I am talking about are not the ones under anyone’s tree or are part of a religious tradition.  I am talking about off-handed comments that change people’s lives and creative acts that alter the trajectory of someone’s future.  Often, the person who speaks the truth or offers kindness is unaware that they changed a life and, in some cases, multiple people’s lives.

In movies like “It’s a Wonderful Life”, Miracle on 34^th Street, or even “The Christmas Carol,” it feels like those types of miracles only happen at Christmas, but my experience has been that they happen at random times and places to all kinds of people.  The fact that there is no script and one must be attuned to the experience often makes it something that is only seen in retrospect.

Most of us can think of an experience that profoundly impacted us.  Unfortunately, we are prone to remember painful events over positive ones. Those painful moments linger and fester and impede our lives in ways that are crippling.  Oddly enough, the people who inflicted the pain rarely remember the very memory that has kept us fixated for years.

I am going to recount three stories that had a positive impact that I think about often.

The first is a story about my dad and a chance encounter that impacted him and many of us who followed.

We now know that my daddy had learning disabilities. He was not the only one in his family who suffered from what they used to call “not book smart.” He struggled with reading and writing, and he and his brother were grateful that WWII gave them a way out of school. The family story is that Uncle Rudy was in the eighth grade, then Daddy and Uncle Rudy were in the eighth grade, and then Uncle Rudy, Daddy, and Aunt Kathleen were in the eighth grade.  Aunt Kathleen went on to the ninth grade, and Daddy and Uncle Rudy went to the Navy.

As horrible as the war was, it provided so many of that generation with a new worldview and ways to move beyond the station they were assigned at birth.

Daddy did well in the Navy.  He was promoted and given opportunities that would not been afforded him otherwise.   He tells the story that one night, while he was on duty, the commanding officer came and stood beside him on the deck.  He said they stood side by side and looked out at the ocean. In the way that men often do, the officer said without looking at him, “Hardee, I want to recommend you for officer training.” Daddy responded with embarrassment and gratitude, “Thank you, sir, but I only finished the eighth grade.”  Daddy said they stood like that for a couple of minutes, then the CO looked at him and said, “Well, Hardee, you should do something about that.” Then he walked away.

That one statement changed my daddy’s life and, by so doing, his children’s and grandchildren’s.

When Daddy returned to North Carolina after the war, he immediately signed up to finish high school at Durham High School so that he could enter college in the fall using the GI Bill. He got tutors and found ways to compensate for his learning difficulties. In the fall, he entered Campbell College in Buies Creek and then transferred to NC State to major in electrical engineering. He struggled, and he second-guessed himself, but he persevered. At the same time, he bought a grill that he ran with his brother, he married my mom, and when she got pregnant with me, he had to make some choices.  All of that was overwhelming.  He sold the grill and had to find a job to provide for his growing family. He never finished State, but he got a job in management with an electrical contracting firm and provided well for all of us. 

I know that the GI Bill was a life changer for many people, but for one reason or another, none of his five brothers took advantage of the opportunity. I promise you, Daddy would not have either if he had not been challenged by someone whom he respected and who saw something in him he did not see in himself.

Daddy told that story often until it became part of our family lore. He saw potential in his children and told us he saw it. He saw the undiscovered talents in the young men who worked for him, and he encouraged them to grow and move on if it was what needed to be done.

Yes, we went to college and even got graduate degrees, and that was one gift from that night on the ship, but more than that, the idea that one statement by someone who is sincere and respected can change the trajectory of someone’s life is the message that rang throughout our lives. My sister and I took that very seriously.

Amy reared half the children in Orange County, NC, through the daycares she ran.  She took more than a few children from other programs who were asked to find other accommodations, but to my knowledge, she never asked a child to leave one of her programs.  She saw good in every child she met.  Oh, she was no more a pushover than the CO on the ship that night, but when she spoke to a parent or a child, her affirmations were sincere, if not flowery. I know this because when she was in hospice, a parade of those children who were now adults came to see her and tell her so.  Both men and women brought their children to introduce them to Ms. Hardee as her final legacy.

Some have thought I was a bit grandiose, but most did not say it to my face. However, more people have challenged me to think bigger and reach higher, but I am not sure I could have heard them if I had not been attuned to the power of such a statement in someone’s life. I do not know the name of the officer on the USS Davis deck that night, but I am indebted to him.  Throughout my years of ministry with young people, I have often thought the most powerful encouragement I could give them beyond telling them that they were “A beloved child of God” was the affirmation of looking them in the eyes and saying, “I see in you…”

I see in you this Christmas the opportunity to be the game-changer in someone’s life.  Someone who needs a person of truth and love to look them in the eyes and say, “I think you should do something about that dream. What can I do to help?”