On Kindness: A Tribute to a Kind Man

Kindness is important.  In fact, kindness is the most important.  Recently, a friend of mine passed away.  He had suffered with cancer and chronic, severe pain for the past couple of years.  I saw him  the afternoon before he went into that last stage of dying when living becomes an internal act in preparation of the final moment when passing occurs.

During this visit, he was the man I had remembered over the last five years I had known him.  We visited briefly--perhaps an hour, possibly a bit more.  During that time, he engaged me in asking questions about me.  He talked about not fearing death--that he was ready.   He talked about his sorrow about not being able to say goodbye to all of those he knew in a way that would bring the closure he wanted for them.   He talked about Hawaii and people he loved.  He talked a bit about his funeral.  He talked to his doctor who came in to ask him questions, thanking her and the hospital for the wonderful care he had been given during his hospital stay.   He ate a bit and coughed a lot.  His pain was obvious, but unspoken.  He had a demeanor of peace and as I looked at him I thought to myself that he is the kindest person I know.   As I left, he asked to give me a hug.

Through his life, my friend put others first.  He made random and not so random acts of kindness for family, friends and strangers.  His life purpose was that of service to others and through the way he served others he showed kindness.  He could be cantankerous when things were not right because on a base level his motivation was kindness.   When I left the hospital, I thought I would be next seeing him at a rehab facility and he would have many months of life.  The next day I got a message that he had slipped into a coma.  Friends poured in to honor a man who had been kind to them over the years to say final goodbyes.  Two days after my initial visit I visited my friend again.  This time he lay quietly in a space that was self-contained.  His breathing was labored and that look of peace remained.  I sat next to him in the quiet of the evening, hand on his arm, thanking him for showing me a path toward kindness.  As I left, I gave him one final hug.  Two days later my friend passed from this life.

In days when kindness is not of societal value, when we see presidential candidates offering decorum that is far from that of kindness, when the value of "me" is more important than that of "you", when bullying and meanness is esteemed, having models of kindness is more important than ever. As a mother, as a friend, as a sister, as a daughter, as an educator, as a community member, I value kindness.   I recognize kindness and I show appreciation to others when I see it.  Kindness makes our world a better, gentler place.  Kindness is not grandiose.  Yet true kindness makes our world grand.

Soon after my friend's funeral I went through a drive through for coffee and spontaneously asked to pay for the person behind me.  I was at school and noticed a child in distress and took the extra moment that was needed to make that child comfortable.  I listened to my son when that is all I wanted to do was speak.  I recognized the simple moments when kindness could make a difference and I acted in kindness.  That is what my friend would have done.  Thank you, Dennis, for being a beacon of kindness.  Kindness is important.  Kindness is, in fact, the most important.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore.  ~Naomi Shihab Nye from her poem "Kindness"

Below are two songs on kindness.

Humble and Kind, by Tim McGraw

Nothing More, by Alternative Routes (Dedicated to Charlotte Bacon, a child who lost her life in the Newtown tragedy, in an effort to raise awareness for the organization Newtown Kindness.)

Thank you to the Two Writing Teachers community for promoting the March Writers' Challenge.  Thanks for giving writers and educators a forum for writing and responding.  Your service to education is valued and appreciated.

A Flood of Gratitude

Sometimes when it rains it pours.  And sometimes that pouring causes floods.  (Along with the melting snow.) That has been the reality of my life this past week.

Saturday morning I was greeted by several inches of water in my home.  A finished basement, and two apartments worth of stuff waiting for my adult children to claim were ruined.  Countless pieces of children's art and school memorabilia ruined.  Christmas ornaments and seasonal decorations ruined.

My first reaction was one of sadness, horror and overwhelm.  The loss of things I held dear brought me to tears.  The thought of all that needed to be done in a very short time caused anxiety.  Yet, only three days later, that sadness has been replaced by gratitude.  The overwhelm replaced by a newfound power to "get it done".  The stuff of my basement is either drying out or being discarded.  This event is putting into motion a necessary purge of the stuff waiting to be claimed or there and not used for many years.  And water removal and restoration so quickly fell into place.  Friends and family pitched in and offered support.  Plumbers and restoration crews went beyond the call of duty to make the space water and mold free.   Movers moved the stuff to higher and dryer ground.

The water is gone.  The fans are still on.  A pile in the basement has become a huge pile in the garage.  And the sorting will begin.  I am not happy about the flood.  But in the midst of this inconvenience choices were made to look for good.  Choices were made to support.  Choices were made to respond with positivity.

I am grateful for a soon to be dry basement.  I am grateful for the support given in the past three days.  I am grateful for the pile in my garage that will become smaller with a "stuff" purge.  I am grateful that the movers made that pile from floor to ceiling so that I could still park in my garage.  Maybe tonight, even if it is only momentary, as I get ready to go to work in the morning, knowing tomorrow will bring snow and cold, and knowing that my parking space is still there--that is something for which I am most grateful.

Thank you to the Two Writing Teachers Community, for your promotion of the March Writers' Challenge.  Thank you for giving us a forum for writing and responding to other writers.

Advent Practice

At the end of last month Facebook popped up with a page that asked "What does your advent calendar look like."  I am not one for posting these little Facebook searches, but I do like to see what comes up (and now and again, I like what comes up so much that I post it on my page).  I did the search out of curiosity and up popped 24 days populated by people who I love, with the first day being me and the 24th day a picture of gaily wrapped gifts.  The calendar does mostly represent those who add meaning to my everyday life.

In my morning reflections I found myself thinking about this calendar.   Each person on this calendar has affected my life in different ways--often significantly.  And as I move through life on a day-to-day basis, I don't acknowledge this in ways that I would like.  Then came my brainstorm--why not write letters of gratitude each day of advent to the people on my card (as well as a few others who are not represented on this calendar)?  This practice will keep me focused on gratitude in a season that often focuses on excess, and will allow me to express it.  AND it can replace the Christmas cards that I often hurriedly put together.

So, each day, starting with yesterday, when I was the recipient, I am writing 1-2 letters to friends, family and significant others, to show them ways that I am grateful for them being in my life.  What a better way to enter into this holiday season?

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for dedicating space and time for teachers and teachers of literacy to come together to share ideas, practice and life experience.

Feed the Right Voice

Choice has been a big word for me this year.   I have written previously about how we cannot always choose our circumstances, but we can ALWAYS choose how to respond to our circumstances.  Last week, in a beginning staff meeting, we discussed ways that we can choose our inner dialogue as a way to create satisfaction and a sense of purpose.    Consider this Fable:

ONE EVENING, AN ELDERLY

CHEROKEE BRAVE TOLD HIS

GRANDSON ABOUT A BATTLE THAT

GOES ON INSIDE PEOPLE.

HE SAID "MY SON, THE BATTLE IS

BETWEEN TWO 'WOLVES' INSIDE US ALL.

ONE IS EVIL. IT IS ANGER,

ENVY, JEALOUSY, SORROW,

REGRET, GREED, ARROGANCE,

SELF-PITY, GUILT, RESENTMENT,

INFERIORITY, LIES, FALSE PRIDE,

SUPERIORITY, AND EGO.

THE OTHER IS GOOD.

IT IS JOY, PEACE, LOVE, HOPE, SERENITY,

HUMILITY, KINDNESS, BENEVOLENCE,

EMPATHY, GENEROSITY,

TRUTH, COMPASSION AND FAITH."

THE GRANDSON THOUGH ABOUT

IT FOR A MINUTE AND THEN ASKED

HIS GRANDFATHER:  "WHICH WOLF WINS?..."

THE OLD CHEROKEE SIMPLY REPLIED,

"THE ONE THAT YOU FEED"

We each have both voices inside of us.  Sometimes one is louder than the other.  How can we feed the good wolf that produces joy, peace love and all of those other attributes that bring a sense of fulfillment and positivity?   Here are a couple of practices that I do to bring out that voice I want to feed.

• I make a list of my blessings at the end of every day a practice.  It is how I journal in the evening and how I end my day.   If in the middle of the day, the wolf I don’t choose to feed is breaking into my thoughts, listing five blessings right then and there is a good way to break the negativity.   This year our school is noting those things we want to feed in our school.  Every day each of us is listing something positive that occurs every day during the school year.  I know for me, this list will be a well of support when I have a dark day and nothing seems to be positive.
• As I do my evening journal, I set an intention for the next day, based on what I think I might need to help me maintain that centered place.  Today my intention is to have relaxed productivity.  I knew that today would be non-stop and, when setting my intention, I knew that I would need to be relaxed within the productivity to keep feeding the wolf I want to nourish.  Having this intention allows me to hold that space through the day.

There are days that the wolf that brings us down grabs a hold of us.  On those days, negative feelings and thoughts naturally creep in.  When I was a principal in a primary school, there were those days when I thought I could do nothing correctly and my negative thoughts were bigger than life.  In those instances I would often reflect on what I was feeling and the whys of that feeling.  If the feeling was based on something I could control, I might make an action.  Sometimes I realized that I was overly tired.  In cases like that, I might choose to not make any big decisions and to get a good night’s sleep the next night.  I am always amazed at how a good night’s sleep changes perspective.  Those days came less and less as I quietly and gently looked at what was happening inside and acknowledged and supported the voice that gives me power.

What are ways that you feed the positive wolf?  How do you teach your students to do the same?

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for dedicating space and time for teachers and teachers of literacy to come together to share ideas, practice and life experience.

The Bridge

I have been spending more time in my childhood city recently, visiting my mom as she transitions into assisted living.  Mother’s Day was spent with her and my two adult children, the three of us traveling on a road trip to see the woman who my children affectionately call grammsie.   When I am there, I usually move between mom and siblings and mom and childhood friends, visiting and spreading my time with those all those I love.  Right now I want to spend all of my time with mom.

Mom links me to my beginnings.  She gave me my first bridge into the world.   And we are at a transition time in her life, when viewing the end becomes inevitable and unbearable.  Three months ago, after her fall, I sat alone, crying, not knowing how she was doing, if she was alive, 500 miles away and helpless.  I had never thought of life without mom and for the first time that thought formed and I was terrified.  I am not ready to lose her.  I don’t want her to travel that final bridge into the unknown.  I don’t want her to travel that final bridge that cuts off hugs and conversation.  I am not ready to lose her.

The three of us set out on our pilgrimage to see mom.  In our travels from north to south we take a detour to the home of my growing up.  Upon seeing the house, memories rush in. I remember the life of seven, living in a house too small to hold both my family and our varied pets.  I remember an old oak tree that sheltered our house and offered me a haven of space when the inside became too crowded and chaotic for me.   I rested with my back on the trunk of that tree.  We played ring-around- the rosy around that tree.  She was base for evening games of capture the flag.  I kissed my first boyfriend under that tree.  I read many a book under that tree.  That tree providing shelter and stability.  She was a place where I could laugh and I could cry freely.  Her roots ran deep and rooted me with her.  And she reached to the sky and showed me a path upward.

The house still stands but the tree is a stump now, cut down when my oldest was a newborn.  On another pilgrimage to visit my mom, my daughter, then three, and I went to say goodbye to that old house as my mom moved to her post family home.   As we said our last goodbyes to a house filled with memories, my toddler daughter ran to the oak tree stump and stood on her.  Mom, she called excitedly, a bridge.  A bridge for us to walk over.  A bridge to link us from here to there. 

My children are at the brink of adulthood.  They are traveling across the bridge between childhood and adulthood.  Endings and beginnings…filled with excitement, fear and anticipation.  I imagine my son finishing college and traveling to new places, possibly settling in one with an oak tree of his own.  I imagine my daughter soon linking a child to her beginnings.  As mom was for me and as I am the link for both my son and my daughter, remembering them when their skin was fresh and their future only offered hope.   One day they may be saying the same words I am now saying about my mom…I am not ready to lose you. 

Yet, like I now am learning and live with my mom, they too will also know, we only have this moment of hugs and conversation.  This moment--each moment--is a bridge from a beginning to an end.  When I live this moment with fullness, my bridge becomes one of gratitude.   Gratitude links me from here to there.  It links us and brings us to together as beginnings come and endings go.  Gratitude continues.

To Vision into Now

At the beginning of this challenge I facilitated a retreat on self-care.  Sometimes when you facilitate something for others, you may need that same experience—with even more intensity.  It, with this challenge, offered an opening to me.   My word for the year is “spaciousness.”  I thought I would write about it this month.  Instead, through writing and retreat, I created it.  Or it created me.

One thing that I did on that retreat is I developed my first vision board.  Yesterday, I visited a co-blogger’s site, Between the By-Road and the Main Road, and she shared her “bucket list” poem.  My poem is my “vision into now” list.  It was born on my board, written across the pages with this challenge and lives in my heart.

A vision into my now—

Spaciousness

to be where I am,

to lighten my load

with some time for me.

My hut space to

illuminate  

mindfully.

Creative expression

and

spiritual writing

emerge from my path

to the page.

Where I am.

My space to

dance,

eat for nourishment,

paint,

swim,

write

chill out

and be.

Where I am.

Spaciousness

with splashes of color

hues of violet, green

indigo and maize,

laced with flowers

and rippled water…

all create a space

where I am.

I dive right in.

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for dedicating space and time for teachers and teachers of literacy to come together to share ideas, practice and life experience.