Extra Mile

 With the resolve of a man twice his age, my son prepared for his senior year. As a junior, Trey survived a brutal breakup after dating a girl (on and off) for two years, and I know that weighs heavy on his mind.

“I’m done,” he said before his first day of school in August. “No dating until I get my degree.”

That vow lasted about as long as my phone's battery, and in the afternoon, when I asked about Trey’s first day back, he didn't mention classes, friends, or even lunch. Instead, he talked about "the new girl," and I couldn’t help but smile. Around here, a new student is basically front-page news.

"She could probably use some friends," I said, trying to subtly nudge him in the right direction.

"Yeah," he nodded, “I think she's had a hard life. I heard she's in foster care."

So, Trey considered approaching the girl for the next two days but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Then, in a moment straight out of a movie, she actually approached HIM and struck up a conversation.

“She’s so hilarious and fun, Mom. I think I’m gonna ask her to homecoming,” Trey said as he paced in our kitchen the following weekend. 

After hearing his words, my mind went to my grandma’s infamous "happiness file.” It’s a collection of life advice so wholesome it’s brilliant. She scrawled on one faded index card, “It’s worthwhile to go the extra mile to make people feel valued.” And that sentiment seemed perfectly apt for Trey’s current dilemma. 

"It sounds like this girl has been through so much," I finally said. “You should do something romantic to ask her to the dance."

Trey just stood there, gaping. “But what if she says no?”

“So?” I said, shrugging. “What do you really have to lose?”

“That’s just...embarrassing.”

Within seconds, I donned my serious-mom face. "Is the objective to get a ‘yes’ or to make her feel special?”

Trey paused for a while, thinking hard. “I just want her to be happy.”

Although Trey never met my grandma, he took her advice that day. For the next few hours, he meticulously wrote out ideas, got candy, and arranged it into cryptic messages on a posterboard. (A couple of the lines were pure gold: “Going to the dance with you would feel like ‘100 Grand.’ I'm falling to ‘Reese’s Pieces.’”)

Trey left for school the next morning, looking more nervous than I’d seen him in years. The day dragged for me because this was super exciting!  I could just picture my tall, strong son, holding up the romantic posterboard that he’d crafted for the new girl. I hoped it would make her day.

When Trey finally got home, I bombarded him. “So, how’d it go?”

“Mom! She said it's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her. She said…’yes’!”

I gave him the biggest hug, and a rush of pure joy flooded through me.

“Mom,” Trey said after a second, “even if she’d said ‘no,’ it would’ve been worth it just to see how happy she was. Grandma was right.” 

And there it was—perfectly understood, the core of Grandma's wisdom, passed down through two generations. 

Making people feel special, valued, and loved is always worth the extra effort. Like Grandma used to say, it really does pay to be kind.