Gratitude Doesn’t Need Google Translate
As I stood in line for some oatmeal at the Frankfurt Airport lounge, one figure caught my eye — a middle-aged woman tirelessly refilling buffet stations, her face a mask of exhaustion as she fielded an endless stream of complaints from disgruntled passengers.
‘Soup’s finished.’ ‘Where are the croutons?’ ‘Why is there no cranberry juice?’
With each entitled demand, she quietly shook her head and wiped her brow.
As part of my daily gratitude practice, I had crafted some watercolor tokens earlier.
I reached for one of them in my jacket pocket — a simple branch with red blossoms and the words Vielen Dank (thank you in German).
When I approached her, her defenses visibly rose. She raised a hand, ready to deflect what she assumed would be yet another grievance.
I smiled and extended my little imperfect piece of art.
“This is for you,” I said hesitantly.
“What?” she semi-shouted, confused.
I pressed on, gesturing to the watercolor tag. “It’s to thank you for your hard work and patience, and for keeping our tummies full.”
The transformation was instantaneous.
Her scowl melted into pure joy and she let out a delighted shriek that turned heads throughout the lounge.
Before I knew it, I was engulfed in a tight, heartfelt hug.
She rushed back to the kitchen, excitedly shaking the token in her hand and yelling in rapid German. I didn’t understand a word of what she was saying … but I didn’t need to.
As I made my way to the oatmeal, she came out humming, a newfound spring in her step as she refilled the soup chafer.
In halting English, she asked, “What’s your name?” When I offered to personalize the tag, her enthusiastic ‘YES’ was accompanied by a dazzling smile.
“I will always keep this,” she said, as she hugged me again.
Tightly.
Our exchange proved that kindness needs no translation.
I walked back with a smile to my lounge chair, my heart full.
Ignoring my empty belly, I crafted more watercolor tags, one for each of her teammates and the receptionists at the lounge (and yes, I personalized each one).
By the time we boarded our flight, my oatmeal remain untouched but countless hearts had been warmed.
This small act of kindness — taking just a few minutes and costing practically nothing — had transformed not just her day, but possibly created a ripple effect of positivity.
Feels good, doesn’t it?
To spread a little unexpected joy in someone’s world.
To show them you see them.
To tell them you’re grateful.
So, I ask you: pause, look around and see who can you share some handmade kindness with today?