Headlines and stories of violence and lack of compassion and human decency scream out at me:
Deadly Run-Ins With The Police Show No Pause
Cars Turn into Caskets as the disco-like lights of police cruisers induce ripples of fear in the veins of the apprehended driver
AARP Fights Fraud on Online Shopping Sites and New Social Security Scams
Pfizer Confirms Fake COVID Vaccines Found in Mexico, Poland
New Report Notes Rise In Coronavirus-Linked Anti-Semitic Hate Speech
We are simply not kind to one another. And, sometimes, I think kindness is dead.
Let’s unpack my supposition.
We can start by being more aware of the softer side of life. We can begin by banking memories of kind acts reported in the press and in our local newspapers (for those of us who still read them and get them!) We can begin banking memories of acts of kindnesses shown us personally in the recent past too. Let’s write down our recollections, stick them in a “Kindness Jar” to pull out and access when we need a spirit lift. Let’s deposit regularly – noting who the person was and why they were kind. And when we need that positive emotional poke, it’s there.
The clearest example that comes to my mind is the kindness our postman showed my husband when he was recuperating from back surgery and even a short walk to our mailbox was challenging for him. Our postman, Enrique, noticing my husband’s wobbly and labored-intensive gait, started bringing our mail and packages right to our front porch.
About a year ago, I placed a notice in my weekly Friday newsletter that I was looking for old buttons – the size of a quarter or larger – to sew on my hand-knitted pouches. You all sent in so many buttons that my post office box was overloaded by the volume. You all found them at yard sales stashed in between vintage napkins and handkerchiefs. You all raided your own sewing baskets. You combed through bags of hand-me-downs from long deceased grandmothers and aunts and mailed me what you gathered.
My friend, Tawny, who I have known since first grade, entreated her husband to give up ownership of buttons his late mother had coveted and he had inherited.
My neighbor’s sister-in-law, Lynda, heard I was collecting unusual buttons and when she traveled back to Indiana, she sent me an entire box filled with wooden, plastic, metal and painted buttons.
A friend of my daughter’s-in-law – who happened to own a button company in New York City – shipped me a huge cardboard box brimming with bags of buttons.
And I when I placed a notice on our neighborhood online site looking for someone to sew these buttons on my hand-knitted pouches (I SUCK at sewing), not only did I find someone, but she has consistently refused payment. A total stranger is doing this act of kindness out of the sheer goodness of her heart. In my jar went one word: SHERYL.
My kindness jar is on the window sill closest to my kitchen counter. When I chop up the cucumbers and peppers to toss in my salad, I see its shiny glass contours. The late afternoon sunshine bounces off its clear top. I notice the growing volume of notes lining its walls – documenting yet more acts of kindness extended to me or someone I love.
I can’t wait to reciprocate.
Let’s all think about a kindness that was extended to us and let us do an act of random kindness today as a way of paying it forward.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom
(And, if you think of it, send me a few buttons!!!!)
Iris Ruth Pastor