The Transforming Power of Kindness

This week I've been pondering the different times in my life when I've been hurt—a sharp word from a loved one or a betrayal by a friend. My instinct has often been to armor up, to retaliate, or to withdraw. Chances are you've been there as well, nursing wounds and building walls. But I recall a moment recently when a friend, instead of matching my anger with her own, paused and said, “I’m sorry you’re frustrated. How can I help?” Her kindness disarmed me. It didn’t erase my angst completely, but it cracked open a door I’d slammed shut, allowing fresh, calming air to enter the room. That’s the power of kindness—it doesn’t demand, it invites. It’s a bridge over a chasm.

I once heard it said, “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” It’s true. In fact, kindness is often contagious—even self replicating. I think of the stranger who pauses their day to hold the door open for someone they've never met. I think of the young man who gives up his seat on a crowded bus to an elderly woman he doesn't know. Years ago, my debit card wouldn't work at the checkout till in the grocery store. I was about to walk out, frustrated, embarrassed, and empty-handed, when the stranger behind me stepped up to the teller and said "If it's all right, I'd like to pay for his items." I was moved beyond words. But if kindness from a stranger is so impactful, it is even more so from those to whom we have given our hearts.

Conflict thrives on misunderstanding and pride, but kindness cuts through both. It’s not about pretending everything’s fine or avoiding hard truths. It’s about choosing to see the other person’s humanity, even when they’ve hurt you. I remember a family argument that had stretched on for weeks—raised voices, stubborn silence, the works. One evening, my sister showed up with a plate of my favorite cookies. No grand apology, just a quiet, “I thought you’d like these.” It wasn’t a fix, but it was a start. That small act melted the ice between us, making room for a real conversation later. Kindness doesn’t erase the need for resolution, but it paves the way.

The Dalai Lama once said, “Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.” That hits deep because it’s a choice we can make even in the heat of conflict. It’s not always easy—sometimes it feels downright impossible—but it’s always within reach. Imagine a couple locked in a bitter disagreement. One storms off, but later returns with a cup of coffee for the other, saying nothing. That gesture doesn’t solve the issue, but it says, “I still care.” It’s a lifeline tossed into turbulent waters, a reminder that the relationship matters more than the fight.

Kindness transforms relationships because it shifts the focus from winning to connecting. It’s not about who’s right or wrong; it’s about who’s willing to extend a hand. I’ve seen it in my own life with a coworker who rubbed me the wrong way. We clashed constantly until one day, after a particularly rough meeting, I left a note on his desk: “Hey, I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I appreciate how hard you work.” The next day, he stopped by my desk to say thanks. It wasn’t instant harmony, but it was a thaw. Over time, we built a respect that wouldn’t have been possible without that first step.

In a world that often feels divided, kindness is a radical act. It’s a refusal to let conflict define us, or shape our future. It’s picking up the phone to check on someone you’ve argued with, offering a smile to a stranger who’s snapped at you, or simply listening when you’d rather walk away. These moments don’t just ease conflict—they rebuild trust, stitch torn bonds, and remind us we’re all in this together. The power of kindness lies in its simplicity and its strength, a quiet revolution that can turn enemies into allies and strangers into friends. So, the next time conflict looms, try kindness. It might just change everything.