Ryanne Molinari

I live in the neighborhood all Midwestern dads reminisce about. Every morning, kids march past my house and up a hill to the elementary school. In the afternoon, they traipse back, climbing through my yard, which is also uphill. They don’t know it yet, but someday they’ll boast to their kids, “When I was your age, I had to walk uphill to school every day—both ways! In the snow!”

I noticed a couple weeks ago that one little boy often stops in my garden to pick a few flowers. He gathers them in a bouquet before skittering off after his friends, afraid of being caught.

Take all the flowers you want, kid. I’m not using them, and the deer will just eat them anyway!

I like to think he’s bringing them to his mom. No matter how bad of a day I’m having, seeing that boy with his carefully crafted (mildly contraband) bouquet lifts my spirit. Our world is a dark place, but I think that as long as little boys pick flowers for their moms, things might not be so bad.

I’ve been reading a lot about encouragement for school, but I’ll be honest: none of the commentaries or lexicons or systematic theologies have taught me as much about it as simply watching that boy select the best blooms for his daily bouquet.

He isn’t picking the flowers for me, so isn’t it odd that I’m encouraged? Maybe not. What woman doesn’t feel a sort of sympathetic happiness upon seeing a man buying flowers at the grocery store? Witnessing someone prepare to encourage another person is cheering, isn’t it?

In my first doctor of ministry class, we talked about encouragement as a focused activity, noticing and praising individuals. While encouragement might start specifically, it can’t really be contained. It’s not like my cat’s beloved laser toy—a single pinprick of light that touches its target and nothing else. No, encouragement is my husband’s reading light. It may be pointed at his book, but somehow never fails to hit me square in the eye.

You cannot contain encouragement. It’s a light, not a laser. No matter how specific it is, authentic encouragement insists on overflowing its boundaries. Seeing others encourage and be encouraged should lift our spirits. In places and groups where encouragement is freely given, the very air should feel lighter, the relationships easier, the work less daunting—whether or not we ourselves have been praised.

So keep doing encouraging things. Buy the flowers, put away the dishes, mail the card, send the text, greet each other with a compliment. It’s not only about you or even the person you’re trying to encourage; after all, humans are cranky creatures and the person you’re set on encouraging may thwart your plans. But you never know who else may be cheered by your efforts and, more importantly, the very “God of encouragement” is at hand (Romans 15).