To be honest? IT was marketing heaven.

The Red Truck Men descended upon Maxwell Farms on a sweltering afternoon in August in literal red trucks.

The organization, founded by Steve Thomas, celebrates community and the informal study of God’s word. They arrived at Connie Maxwell, a large U-Haul in tow, filled with bicycles — gifts for the kiddos.

I was in absolute awe. Everything was branded, from bumper stickers to hats that were all up for grabs. I adjusted my camera on my shoulder rig and pulled my hair through the back of the cap and got to work filming and photographing the day’s event.

Through the endearing, yet moderately organized chaos, I got to work snapping away. In the back of my mind, I knew I wanted to get the founder on camera to ask him a few questions about the organization for the video piece.

Like, why free bicycles?

Why red trucks?

Why here, at Connie Maxwell?

I took him to a quiet-ish place and set up the shot. He was placed strategically in front of a large Red Truck Men sign with red and white balloons in the background.

Even lighting across the face. Signage in the background.

Perfect.

We got to chatting. He shared about his past. How he grew up without a lot of money. How his first bicycle was also given to him for “free,” but the next day he received a payment plan for it. How it was a huge letdown, and how he remembers that moment in his life as he gives to others.

How he wants to see men in community with one another, not neglecting time together in faith.

It was going great. Until a kid appeared in the background. Completely interrupting the interview.

“Can I have a balloon?” he asked, peering up through his thick glasses.

I’m immediately annoyed and respond with some haphazard mix where gentle parenting meets annoyed woman with a job to do.

“You have to wait until we’re done,” I said. They were arranged perfectly.

Still, he reached for a balloon.

“We just need them for a few more minutes. Please wait.”

I try to remain kind and composed. But my annoyance was clear.

But Steve.

Steve stops, turns around and gives the kid his undivided attention. Reached for a balloon and handed it to him.

We finished the Video Interview.

One less balloon in the frame. And guess what? The world didn’t implode. The ground didn’t fall out from under me.

But I walked away with so much more than video footage.

I walked away with a reminder of why I even do this type of work in the first place: to serve others.

That tiny moment, that small glimmer of kindness to a kid, that was the reason I was even there to begin with. In that moment, Steve showed me the character of Christ. And even wrapped in my joy of the job I have, I realized I had forgotten. I was there for them.

I was reminded of a vignette in the New Testament. In the book of Matthew. Jesus is teaching. Performing miracles. Throngs of people are following him.

I can only imagine the chaos. Then the children come. They asTk for — maybe even demand — attention. And the disciples “rebuke” them.

But Jesus uses it as a teaching moment.

“Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’” Matthew 19:14.

The crowd was likely humbled, as I was. A testament to the fact that the task at hand isn’t as important as the heart behind those performing it.

Thank you, Steve, for reminding me. It’s a lesson I won’t soon forget.