It's getting colder every night. Late afternoon on Saturday, I was going like sixty to beat the early darkness, planting, planting, planting the last of the gifted perennials in my new flower beds, laying them out, rearranging, then tucking them in. As I did, I imagined all the flowers and blooms coming next summer, and the next, and the next, and the feeling of gratitude for the generosity of my friend was sweet.
Kindness.
Then, wouldn't you know, later on, while seasoning the chili beans that had been simmering all day, I got a call from a local vegetable farmer who had just sold his farm and bought another. He was saying that, instead of transplanting all the raspberries and strawberries from the sold farm, he was giving them away, and would I please come dig some up! And while I was at it, go ahead and dig up some of the remaining potatoes, too.
Such kindness.
I want to remember this. Not just the kindess of giving, but the kindness of actions, the kindness of words, the kindness of attitudes. I want to write it indelibly before me on a permanent lens - a filter of words, a tender of response. Because the very next night, I had an opportunity for giving kindness to someone close and I didn't do it. In fact, I was most unkind.
For the love of all that is good, why is it that cutting words somehow come easier? I could tumble into all the reasons, excuses, and circumstances, but I stop. Regroup. Apologize. Because there isn't an excuse, reason, or circumstance big enough. Kindness trumps all.
Wishing you a gentle week's beginning, friends.
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