Brain, Heart, and a Baseball Team

I was driving down the road when I saw an old man struggling to pick up trash that had blown out of his can. The bags had split, the wind carried it everywhere, and he was feeble and unsteady. Without thinking twice, I pulled over and bent down beside him. It was messy, it was yucky, but it was the right thing to do.

As we worked, he told me stories from his younger days. For a moment, the trash didn’t matter; it was just two people sharing life. When we finished, he looked at me with tired eyes and said, “Thank you for helping me.”

I smiled. “No need to thank me, sir. Where I’m from, we’re born that way.”

He paused, then shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Kindness isn’t born. It’s learned. And it’s a gift.”

Those words stayed with me as I drove away. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about East Texas, the place I once hated being from. For so long, I rejected it, but now I yearn for it. Because that’s where I learned kindness. If I went back today, every person I met would smile, tip their hat, and greet me like family. That’s East Texas. That’s me.

And I thought about my mama. She wasn’t always there the way I wanted, but she was the mama God chose for me. And through her, I became who I am: compassionate, quick to help, someone who stops without a second thought. That’s when I realized, we’re all vessels for God to teach others, even when we don’t know it. Sometimes we’re the ones learning. Sometimes we’re the ones showing someone else what love looks like.

Later that week, I was with my grandkids. I told them, “When you’re mad, you can still choose joy. Count to three and wait for it.”

Big brother wasn’t buying it. He crossed his arms and blurted out, “Well, my brain can’t do that when I’m angry! Especially when she —” and he pointed at his little sister, “— won’t stop poking me and making me mad!”

I looked at him and said gently, “You’re right. She might have poked the bear. Little sisters know how to do that. But that still doesn’t give you the right to roar back at her. Yelling at her is no different than hitting her, except instead of hurting her arm, you hurt her heart.”

His little sister’s eyes got big, and she nodded quietly. Big brother thought about it, his fists loosening just a little.

So I told him, “When you feel that anger rise up, your brain might be too hot to stop it on its own. But your heart can step in. Your heart knows you don’t want to hurt your sister, not really. That’s when you let your brain and your heart work together, like teammates on your baseball field. One keeps the rules, the other reminds you why you play. Together, they’ll help you choose better.”

Life is one long lesson. And God uses every single one of us, whether it’s an old man picking up trash, a mama doing her best, or a child speaking truth without even realizing it. We are all His vessels, and through us, He teaches kindness, compassion, and joy.

And when you do this, you will feel the joy and happiness as I do when…my front door opens, my grown children walk in, and their children run straight into my arms.

In that moment, my heart whispers, this is the forever I always prayed for, while feeling God’s hug through my precious little vessels.