Sometimes Kindness Is Awkward
Showing up doesn’t always feel smooth, but always matters
4 min read
Kindness is beautiful, but let’s be honest, it can also be really awkward. We like to imagine it playing out like a movie scene: warm, well-received, maybe even a little inspiring. But in real life, kindness often shows up clunky. It stumbles. It misfires. It makes everyone just a little uncomfortable.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt that moment where I sense I should say something or offer something or do something and then immediately second-guess it.
What if they don’t want help? What if it’s weird? What if I say the wrong thing?
There’s a kind of internal negotiation that starts, and if I’m not careful, I’ll convince myself to stay quiet. To keep walking. To wait for a more “natural” opportunity which usually means doing nothing at all.
But some of the most meaningful acts of kindness I’ve received weren’t smooth. They weren’t planned. They weren’t even all that articulate. They were simply present.
I remember flying back to Dallas the weekend my dad died. Evening flight. Thick of rush hour. I was wrecked—physically, emotionally, spiritually. Just heavy with everything that had happened and everything I couldn’t quite name yet.
A good buddy picked me up from the airport. No grand gesture, no big talk beforehand. Just, “I got you.”
That drive home wasn’t anything particularly special, but it gave me room to breathe. To process and to say some of the hard things out loud without needing them to be fixed. He didn’t try to make it better. He just made sure I didn’t have to sit in it alone.
That ride meant more to me than I could’ve said in the moment. It still does.
Sometimes, kindness can feel like you’re intruding. Sometimes it can feel like you’re overstepping. It can even sometimes land with silence or worse, indifference. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. I think it just means we’re human.
We forget that kindness isn’t about performance. It’s about presence.
It’s not about being smooth, it’s about being sincere.
I think about Jesus in this. He rarely delivered His compassion in a flashy moment. Sometimes He knelt in the dirt. Sometimes He touched people that others wouldn’t go near. Sometimes He just wept. He didn’t try to clean up the awkwardness, He entered it. And people remembered Him for it.
So maybe it’s okay if our kindness isn’t polished. Maybe awkward kindness is actually the best kind because it costs us something. It asks us to set aside our need to look good and just show up.
So say the thing. Send the text. Bring the groceries. Offer the hug. Pray out loud. Do the awkward thing.
You might feel weird for a moment. But someone else might feel loved for a whole lot longer.