Kindness

So the lesson I'm going to teach today has to do with kindness.  When I first looked at it, I thought it would be a "slam-dunk", you know, one of those things you can run through sorta with a "duh" attitude.  Kindness - yes, everyone should be kind, everyone should practice this trait, give some examples, bam, you're done.  Nope, I don't think so.

Here's what I learned in my study:  Being kind is sometimes difficult.  It is a choice.  A kindness is truly a kindness when it is received by someone who:  (a)  may not "deserve" it, (b) does not expect it, (c) requires a sacrifice on your part, (d) is done without thought of what you will receive in return.  Being kind involves not only taking action to meet a need, but also can be facilitated by the words you speak to others. 

Do you know anyone who is truly kind?  I've been the recipient of many acts of kindness over the years but I think one that stands out is an act so "small' and simple that the person, who I don't even know their name, was unaware the impact they had.  It was a busy weekday evening, about 5:30, many years ago.  I was standing in line at the small grocery store near my home, however, the store was packed, as it often was, with people similar to me-working moms stopping in to get something to fix for dinner that evening.  I was tired and weary from a job which absolutely drained me.  My three children at home were around 12, 14, and 16 and it seemed we were having one crisis after another in my family.  As I waited in line, I grew more and more impatient, and upset about the fact that there seemed to be never enough checkers in the store. Finally, my turn came and after pulling my cart up in the lane, the cashier unloaded my groceries to begin to scan them.  I stood at the check-writing shelf and got my checkbook out, wondering if I had enough money to pay for food this week.  After greeting me, the cashier looked at my face and said something like this:   "You look really tired.  You must have had a long, hard, day, now you have to go home and fix dinner!  I'm so sorry you had to wait in line."  Drip, drip, drip.  These words fell onto a parched and weary soul, and I looked back at her.  For the first time I saw dark circles around HER eyes and a weariness about her, but then, she smiled at me and there we were, two weary women understanding each other all because she cared enough to express kindness to me when I appeared out of sorts to her. 

I've never forgotten it.  I don't even know her name, but I've never forgotten that feeling as I left that store and went home to my kids.  Kind words matter!  They buoy and lift the spirit like no other - especially when said to those who least deserve them, expect them, or who cannot give you anything in return.

Kindness.  I encourage you to practice it this week, and start with those who are nearest to you.  Here's a reminder:  "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."  (Ephesians 4:32)    

January 3

Thankfulness first:  I went to an inservice today - I could complain about this but you know, looking for things to be grateful for helps me to view things with a little different perspective.  I got a parking ticket because I forgot to feed the meter - but - I have a car that works fine, AND, I have 15.00 to send to the city coffers.  Temperature in the room at the ISC was just fine - not too hot, not too cold.  The topic of the inservice was "somewhat" interesting so I wasn't completely bored ALL the time.  How's that?

Iowa caucus is tonight.  I am interested to see what the results are - however, I did read the paper an Iowa university professor wrote who was questioning why we have allowed Iowa such a position in the spotlight as they do not "represent America" accurately. Here's the link if you are interested: 

http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2011/12/observations-from-20-years-of-iowa-life/249401

That's it for today! 

January 1

I just got done reading about a man who a couple of years ago, sent 365 thank you notes to people in a year - like snail mail handwritten thank you notes, and how that changed his life.  Every day - not only being thankful, but being thankful to another human being for something - I can well imagine that this would give a new perspective about things, and very quickly.  He has written a book about his experience which has just recently been published  ("365 Thank Yous - The Year a Simple Act of Daily Gratitude Changed My Life" by John Krauk). 

Thinking about this - I wondered if I actually could write 365 notes to 365 different people - do I even know that many people - and not only that, do I have a spirit of gratitude about my life's circumstances which would allow me to do that?  Off the top of my head, here are 10 people I could thank today this very minute in no particular order - so if you read this and your name is at the bottom of the list, don't freak out!  I have not included family because - well, I hope you all know how much I love and appreciate you every day!

Dr. Bakken - a professor at WSU who told me early on in my "going back to school" career that she had great confidence in my ability to stay in school and complete the school psychologist program successfully when I was doubting if I could. 

Noma Curtis - former music director at Parkview Church - thank you for mentoring me, being my friend, and for helping me to grow as a musician.

Jill Rust - speech therapist (retired) who worked at the very first school I was assigned to (albeit briefly), and who, on a day I was about to throw it all in gave me a little train engine with the encouraging words - Yes you can!  You can do it!

Lynn Wells - thanks for being one of the best supervisors I've ever worked for.  Enjoy your retirement!

Lisa - you cut and color my hair every couple of months and what a pleasant experience it always is for me to come in and have you work your magic!

Debi Patry -- your bright smile at Braums as I'm shopping is always a day brightener for me.

Loy Burnett - For the last 30 years, I have so much appreciated your willingness to keep our old cars running, and to always treat us fairly when we have to bring one of them in.  Thank you for all you do for us.

I don't know your name - but you work at the Donut Whole and you made me the most delicious sugar free peppermint mocha the other day!  Thank you for your cheerful attitude and willingness to go the second mile.

Karen Wallace - I will never ever forget what you did for me (you know what), my first year working in USD 259.  I remain very grateful to this very day - 6 years later. 

Dianna - Thank you for opening your home on Tuesday nights for an eclectic group of women to gather and to discuss biblical topics.  I am grateful for your service. 

Trains

Sitting in the chair, she drew the sweater around her and shivered.  It was late January by the calendar, and as she looked out of the window near her chair, the yard light cast a glow on new fallen snow.  Glancing at the clock she sighed as the time crept by ever so slowly.  It was one of those nights.  She had let the tears spill down and now, she waited for the blessed relief of sleep.  The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall, but every once in awhile a gust of wind swept around the corner and whistled as it danced along the old shingle siding. 

Nights like this stretched so intermittably long.  Her thoughts drifted, as they did so often, to what her life was like before, and now.  Now, Papa was gone.  An old man full of years, yes, and those years were spent in her care.  Papa was her responsibility - one that she cherished and took upon herself without hardly a second thought.  She had opportunity to marry any of a number of promising young men when she was in her 20's and 30's and some not so young who sought her out as she grew older.  But, no, that kind of life - the one her sisters and friends found so effortlessly, was not to be her choice.  She knew early on her life was with Papa, and in providing for him - and provide she did.  But now, well, Papa took a final breath, and went home last month, leaving her in an empty house with memories, and pictures, and the cadence of the trains as they rumbled over the tracks and clattered into the night.

She still listened for his footsteps on the floorboards and the creak of his mattress as he turned in bed.  Those sounds  were not to be - but several hundred yards away - the trains came and went, all hours, all through the night.  They ran on a schedule, whistling long and loud as they passed the crossing near her old home. Like beacons in the night - the westbound locomotives headed toward the California coast and the eastbound freighters chugged toward Kansas City and Chicago - each one manned by an engineer, whose job was to blow the whistle as the train went through the crossing. 

40 or 50 trains a day clipping by become an accompaniment to the gardening, the chicken house cleaning, the yard work, or the visiting on the porch. But often, Papa stopped his work to watch the trains roar by, 70, 80, 90 miles an hour as they pulled car after car loaded with wheat, oil, new automobiles, or coal. At night the sweet music of the fast clickity clack along the corridor was a reminder that business and life, proceed as usual through the midnight of sleep.

12:22am.  The discordant wail of a three note blast broke the silence.  He's a little late this evening, she thought.  The notes hung in the air.  The hand on the noisy whistle had rules to follow regarding when to begin to blow, how long to hold it open, and how many times to press the button as the train sped through the north end of the sleeping town.  The engineer peered out the window of the locomotive and spotted a faint yellowish glow coming from the west window of the little brown house.  Someone's up late, he thought. 

She sat in the glow of the lamp, listening to the noise from the wheels and the whistle fade away, oddly comforted, somehow feeling as if an old friend had stopped by to visit and then left in a noisy hurry to get to another destination.  Getting up from her chair, she turned out the lamp and wearily climbed into the wrought iron framed bed.  Pulling the heavy quilt up to her chin, she listened for the trains' songs.  As the melodies echoed through the night, they wrapped her in peace, and she slept, dreaming of a life past.        



 

I'm a basket case

I'm so sad that I have this blog, and that I cannot seem to think about writing in it.  I enjoy writing, I like trying to express my thoughts with words, yet, the discipline of doing this eludes me.  I do not understand why I have such difficulty with this, yet, it is something I cannot give up on.  There's so much about my life that I'd like to be different  - yes, I may have a calm exterior, but inwardly, I am so in a turmoil about things.

It's my birthday today.  Actually, I see that it's 12:27 am November 19th, so it was my birthday yesterday.  I had a GREAT DAY.  I had lunch with my kids, Reb and I got our hair done, I took a nap, I took the afternoon off work, and we had dinner at Spears with my extended family.  I love love love family time together.

I need to head to bed as tomorrow Jay and I are visiting Jane and taking Rebekah with us.  In the evening the spouse and I are headed to the symphony concert, as we got some free tickets.  I am so blessed- and so confused! 

Comments a la carte

Beautiful weather!  We enjoyed a hot dog roast, croquet, and visiting over at my brother's this evening.  I saw, for the first time in many years, a shooting star.  It was quick and over almost before it begun - if I would have blinked, I would have missed it. 

Today I ripped out all the garden plants that were struggling along.  I gave up - BUT, I'm thinking about planting a fall garden.  I've got bean and beet seeds - could it be that I could actually grow something now that the weather has moderated?  Hope springs eternal...  We're working on putting in two more boxes along the back fence.  I really like this "box garden bed" concept.  We have to clear out years of honeysuckle vine first, so it'll be awhile.

I'm reading "The Help".  I can't put it down!  Well I can, but it's difficult.  What a great book - I can't wait to see the movie. 

After a rousing chorus of the neighbor's three dogs barking for almost an hour today I'm this much closer to checking on getting a privacy fence put up.  Yes, they'll still bark at me, but I won't SEE them.  I think that'll help.  Please, God, make it stop.

Problems at church.  Problems at work.  Problems with family.  Problems all around.  What's the old adage - do what you can about the things you CAN control, everything else, let it go.  I need to be reminded of that every once in awhile.

I can usually work the sudoku puzzle all the way up to Thursday, most of the time I can get Friday's, and rarely, I can get Saturdays.  I usually try to work the Cryptoquip and the Jumble too.  Sometimes I wonder if that's the only reason I subscribe to the daily paper.  That and the comics.  Love Pickles, Zits, Sherman's Lagoon, and Non Sequitur.

Speaking of Non Sequitur, did you know that it's Latin for "it does not follow"?  In formal logic, it is an argument which its conclusion does not follow its premises.  For example:  in advertising - a commercial might state if you do not buy this brand of dog food, you do not love your dog.   Wiki goes on to give several other examples of different non sequiturs. 

It's late.  Time to get to bed, in order to, get up early, in order to, go to work tomorrow, in order to, come home, in order to, go to bed, in order to, get up early, in order to...  well, you get my drift.  Have a good week. 

A long two weeks

It has been a difficult, long, last two weeks. Briefly, there was a crisis which touched one of the schools I serve.  It was an incident of domestic violence where one of our first graders was shot to death, her 4th grade sister critically wounded, and her mother and grandmother wounded as well.  The little girl's funeral was yesterday, and although I did not go, it certainly was uppermost in my thoughts as I worked at school.
Events like this always cause me to reassess my worldview regarding good and evil, of what happens when you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, and who really is in control of what in this universe.  I am finding that really, when I'm called on to serve in a crisis, I can do that running purely on what I know my job is and what I have to do.  It's usually days later before I really begin to mull things over and process the horrific nature of what happened, and then begin to put it in proper persepctive in my mental filing cabinet.  PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) occurs when that system breaks down.  Sometimes people have to deal with trauma, tragedy, and things too indescribable to talk about - and I wonder if those who truly suffer from this disorder ever can regain a sense of normalacy about life. 

Rest in peace, Reimy.  I pray Dayonara recovers, and certainly for her mother and grandmother as well - the healing required to deal with this tragedy will be much more than just physical.