A thousand acts of kindness…if you think about it, this is the web that holds the world together. The internet connects us, the stars surround us, but it is kindness that enables our living. Generosity in communities, sweetness in our homes, warmth, consideration, graciousness to strangers – this is what engenders hope and contagions of goodness. And…it keeps us from destroying everything, from combating everyone, from burning it all down out of despair.
It is kindness, those simple acts of care that water that seed of love within that makes it worth being a part of a humanity; a humanity that is so often difficult to understand. I read this morning of a zookeeper in Australia who jumped into a crocodile pit to rescue a small child who had fallen in … and on that same day, thousands of miles away in this country, a woman died trying to rescue a 3-year old drowning in a river. On any one day, in any one country, we can find such stories.
The shame is not that we aren’t kind or caring or compassionate enough…it is that we don’t remember to notice how often our neighbors show up with food, or our uncles and aunties drive out of the way to drop off clothing or flowers or notes to friends. We are a world of hands reaching out, of reaching and holding on, of gestures that say, “I am here, you are not alone.”
A few weeks ago I sent out an email, with the theme of fatigue at the heart of it, reflecting a time when the thought of making a dinner salad seemed just too complicated. I cannot tell you how many of you responded with concern – checking in to make sure I was okay – and many offered to come by and make salad for me, even though they too felt like the thought of washing vegetables and then having to actually slice them up felt like asking a lot. We are tired, there is no doubt about this..and we keep building bridges of love with our hands and our hearts.
I offer here a poem, entitled The Making, by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, from which I borrowed the title of this newsletter:
The Making
for Kayleen Asbo
In those days when I was terribly raw,
my friend would make mandalas
out of petals and sticks, pinecones and rocks,
sometimes shells, sometimes leaves.
She’d send a photo and a note
to say she was thinking of me.
I still marvel at how, of the thousands of choices
she made on any given day, she chose to spend time
sending love to me. How simple the act, really.
A smattering of acorns shaped into a circle
with some leaves arranged in the center.
Now I trust even the humblest, most ephemeral act,
when motivated by love, has the power
to reach through the years. Now I trust
I am made of thousands of acts of kindness,
most of them small. I can’t touch where they live
in my body, some I have even forgotten,
but to this day I am made of them all.
—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
I do believe she is exactly right – we are made up of all those gentle, thoughtful acts that stirred within us that sense that someone cared.
Perhaps today you might spend a moment remembering how you have been shaped by the generosities of others. Perhaps today, this might be your offering, a quiet thank you in return. Perhaps today, even if we are too tired for salad, or laundry, or sorting that pile glaring at us from the floor or the desk, we might at least take our hearts for a walk into the forest of memories, where all those kind eyes and warm hands are stored.
Love, Maria
