Some Lessons You Only Learn In Action

There’s a certain kind of wisdom you only learn on a front porch. One of those valuable lessons is how to give and receive compliments. That doesn’t come from books, not from school, but from folks who’ve lived long enough to know what matters and loved deep enough to pass it down.

My Paw was one of those people.

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THE POWER OF COMPLIMENTS: APPALACHIAN KINDNESS

A story from Maw, Paw, and a life spent watching people bloom when you hand them kindness.

You know, I’ve spent most of my life noticing beauty that other folks walk right past. Not the fancy kind of beauty that turns up in magazines, but the real sort — the way someone smiles even when their day has been hard, the way a stranger puts effort into the color of her sweater, or how a man holds the door just a beat longer for the person behind him.

Maybe it’s because of how I was raised back then….. My Maw Lucy hardly ever spoke above a soft tone, but her kindness was like warm bread on a cold day — steady, simple, and nourishing in a way only mountain women know how to be. But Paw… well, Paw was the one who taught me how to use my voice. He knew the power of compliments.

That man could talk to a fence post if it leaned in just right. Folks around Parksville said he carried two things everywhere he went: a garden snake in one pocket for entertainment and a pocket full of powerful compliments in the other. He’d pull out one or the other depending on who was standing in front of him. And I swear, you never knew which one was coming until it was too late. Paw used that snake to scare little boys into giggles, then turn right around and hand out kind words like he was passing out candy at a fall festival.

Paw Believed In Sugaring Up The World

My grandfather (Paw) taught me early: “Sugar up the world when you can. It’s runnin’ bitter enough without your help.” And Lord, he lived by that. People walked away from Paw grinning so big you’d think he slipped joy into their back pocket.

I didn’t realize how deeply his habit had sunk into me until years later, after I married and brought my husband to America. We’d go somewhere simple — the Dollar Store, the grocery, walking into a diner — and I’d see something beautiful on someone, and before I knew it, I’d be halfway through a conversation with a stranger and then point out their pretty scarf or the way their eyes matched their shirt, and they’d just glow. Without fail, Dan would ask, “How do you know her?”

And I’d laugh and say, “Honey, I don’t.”

That man truly thought I was dodging his questions, because to him, nobody talks to strangers like old friends unless they are old friends. Over time, he learned that complimenting strangers was simply my version of breathing. It wasn’t flirting. Attention-seeking was and is never my goal. I compliment folks just to hand them a little bit of sunshine, and it doesn’t cost a thing, Yet giving them compliments seems to matter a great deal to the one receiving them.

As the years went on, I began noticing something else — something a little sad. Many women were raised to compete instead of celebrate. They’d see another woman’s beauty and try to measure themselves against it instead of simply admiring it. You can feel that tension the moment you walk into a room: folks sizing each other up instead of just saying, “Lord, you look lovely today,” and letting the whole worry drop. So I made it my little mission to be the opposite of that. If I see beauty — in someone’s hair, their spirit, their talent, or even just their effort — I speak it out loud.

And here’s the magic: when you hand out compliments freely, you loosen something tight in people. Being complimented makes them breathe easier. Compliments turn the temperature down on insecurity and turn the light up on connection. Noticing something that is nice about another doesn’t take but a second, but that second can literally change the whole atmosphere of a person’s day.

I even make a point to thank people for kindness — especially the small kind nobody ever notices. When a customer service person goes out of their way or someone shows patience or uses a gentle tone, I stop the whole conversation and say, “Thank you for being so kind.” You would not believe how that sentence softens shoulders and brings breath back into tired lungs. Kindness is so rare some days that people don’t even know what to do when you honor it.

It’s Just As Important To Know How To Receive As To Give

But giving compliments is only half the story. The other half — the harder half for some — is learning how to receive them without shrinking, arguing, or getting jealous about who else hears them. I’ve seen women get downright furious that someone complimented something about them or — heaven forbid — their spouse. A compliment is not a threat. Lord, if somebody sees beauty in you or the one beside you, that’s not cause for suspicion — that’s cause for pride. Those moments of recognition just means the world saw something good that belongs to you. Hold it. Treasure it. Don’t slap the hand that offered it.

And if you ever run into one of those folks who cannot, for anything in this world, accept a compliment? Give it anyway. Offer it gently, give it without expectation, and keep walking. The seed still lands. It may grow later. Kindness doesn’t expire.

Paw always said the world runs on barter more than folks realize. Not just money or trade, but the soft kind — the smile you pass, the encouragement you give, the warmth you share even on a tight day. Compliments are just another kind of barter. When you hand one to someone else, it doesn’t cost you a slice of your own worth — it multiplies it. You feel lighter. They feel brighter. The world feels closer, like neighbors leaning over a fence swapping tomatoes and good stories.

And maybe that’s the biggest truth of it all: compliments make the world feel smaller and kinder, the way the hills always felt to me growing up. They’re a way of saying, “I see you,” in a world where so many people feel invisible.

Give Those Admirations Anyway

So if you ever wonder whether you should say the nice thing you’re thinking — go ahead and say it. Paw would’ve. He taught me how to give & receive compliments. That lesson stayed with me all my life….. When Maw heard someone giving a compliment, she would have smiled at you for doing so. And I’ll cheer you on right here from this porch, knowing you’re out there dropping little ‘sugar cubes’ of kindness into someone else’s day.

If you enjoy stories like this, you’ll love the other life lessons & memories I’m sharing on The Appalachian Sage. …………And if you’re ever in the mood to browse something pretty, you can stop by my Etsy shop, The Appalachian Sage Shop, where I pour the same love and kindness into each design.