A moral imperative and the concept of a nice act

Starting with the day I went to the bank and withdrew money for my two road trips, the moral imperative to right a wrong surfaced.  I found I had a hundred dollars too much from the bank, and when I woke from my nap and realized the fact my wallet was fatter than it was suppose to be, I groggily went back to the bank to return the money.  Please realize I do not consider this a kind act, rather more of a must do.  So many people I told this to, said not many people would do this.  In my little world, I would rather think everyone would.  The teller's machine that counted money was broken, and he counted the money out to me by hand.  I also started gabbing like a buffoon about the vacation I was about to embark on, and probably flustered him.  I can do this easily.  The bank manager was impressed I returned the money, and I talked about it for the next few weeks.

On the next two vacations, I went to Mississippi.  On the second of my visits, I took three paintings with me I painted, and gave them to family for various reasons.  Not one of which is an act of kindness.  I kept trying to tell them, I was giving them a piece of me.  What I kept back, I was giving them my imperfections for them to hang on their walls.  To me, they are performing the kind act by hanging the oil paintings I painted on their walls.  In every one of the paintings I gave away, I see the imperfections, and I knew if I tried to fix the imperfections, I would never be done.  I also reasoned God did not make men perfect, so who am I to try?  I realized I could never sell my paintings, because I am too critical of them.  I am sure many artists do not feel this way, but I do.  I lay bare my soul with all its imperfection, for the world to see to hang on their walls.

When a family member gave me money for one of my paintings, I was mortified.  I decided that maybe I got the money because I gave the money back to the bank without hesitation.  Honestly, it is hard to accept money for either doing the right thing, or for mercy shown to me with my oil paintings.  Then, it hit home.  On my way to Mississippi the first time, my car over heated, and someone stopped to help.  I was so frustrated because this kind man would not accept any money from me.  Now, I think I understand this man who stopped to help.  The kind act does not accept payment, and doing the right thing is a moral imperative.  Maybe one day I will come to grips with my insecurities, or maybe never.  I will continue to paint, I will continue to give away pieces of myself, and I will always take the moral road as I see it.