For months now, I've been trying to find a volunteer slot that suits my fancy. Something interesting, even a little fun, but something that will change the world. Or at least the lives of several people in it. I have not yet found it. Interesting, fun and life-changing often doesn't fall into one package, particularly when combined with my schedule and abilities. And so I've felt frustrated with myself, as though I'm not doing enough, that I am less than I could be.

Now I'm beginning to wonder.

Volunteering for a refugee assistance group, children's literacy program, in-home seniors reading program and other such fabulous programs is one sure way to make a difference. But the circle doesn't have to be wide, formally titled and anonymous. It can be as close as an e-mail address book.

In the past couple of months, I've done three small things that had surprisingly large impact.

My Birthday Alarm notified me that an old friend would soon be celebrating her birthday. We had seen one another just months before at our 25th class reunion and had a nice re-connection. Still, we hadn't resumed our old friendship. I thought maybe I'd send her an e-card, but as usual, I pushed this tiny task aside as a do-later. The morning of her birthday, I got my second reminder. Out of time, I dashed off a three-sentence e-mail, urging her with hastily chosen words to celebrate herself. The next day, she e-mailed me back and said, "Your e-mail was the best gift I received this year. Thanks so much for your words."

I was stunned. I wondered if my friend - divorced, single and facing challenging economic times - had chosen to let her birthday go silently by. But I did not ask.

Last week, another, closer friend e-mailed me about some family problems. The stress she felt crackled along the electronic lines like a bolt of lightning, shooting off the screen as though the message had been written in all caps. It was a weekday morning so time was again short, and in part because hers were challenges I had never experienced, words failed me. Quickly, I perused Hallmark.com's e-cards. I sent her the first one I found; in part because I was in a hurry but also because its message struck me. Before day's end, she e-mailed to say the card had brought tears to her eyes, that it had been a needed message.

A few days ago, I wrote a letter to my former boss, who now works for our competitor. Vickie hired me when I was a marketing subcontractor, surprising me with a call to my home one night to say she had noticed my work and wanted to speak with me. Because of Vickie's faith in me, I left the sad, belittling atmosphere of the Gazette, and now live in the nicest house of my life to date, in economic conditions better than any I have previously known. Vickie is my first role model. I wrote all this down, printed it on nice stationary and sent it to her. Vickie's letter was planned. Even at that, I procrastinated the actual writing, and cranked it out with greater speed than she deserved.

Yesterday, she left a message of thanks. Never in her life had she gotten such a letter, she said. I could hear her voice crack even though Vickie was, as always, smiling as she talked. She planned to frame it, she said, and hang it in her new office for a while. She wanted to talk to me, see how things were going, to stay in touch and for me to know how much she treasured our friendship. I saved the message.

These three responses don't make me feel proud but humbled by the power of words. I wonder at all the opportunities I've missed. The quick e-mails I should have written, saying thanks, offering a compliment, suggesting an outing. The e-cards I should have sent, phone calls I might have made, letters I pondered writing and let fall to the sidelines of my busy days.

I think about the small acts of kindness that bolster me. Something so recent as a woman walking out of the grocery store the other day who said, "That dress looks so good on you!" Something so long ago as a man behind me at a convenience store in my college town, plunking down the change I lacked to pay for a candy bar. I was deeply depressed, weeks away from hospitalization. That single act restored my faith in the kindness of others.

All of this has a domino effect, I think. When someone does some small thing for us, that spot of happiness enables us to smile at another, put more effort into our jobs, to do something nice for someone else.

Imagine what would happen if we all took the time to do just one of these things, once a week, for those we know best. Imagine if we extended it to include a few of those we don't, by doing something so simple as complimenting that stranger at the grocery store. Imagine the difference we could make. In these small ways, we truly could change the world.