I originally posted this in the summer of 2016. Perhaps some of you can use it today as well.
Sometimes it's so hard to know what to say after darkness comes.
How to be helpful. How to be a change for good. Because I fear that anything I say will sound trite and simple and hollow. But as I listen to the dialogue going on about right and wrong, fear and freedom I'm left with this sad pang in my heart that this is what the darkness would want. For our hearts to harden and our communities to further divide.
So let me offer up this instead: never let the darkness in so deep that it hardens your heart.
Feel, yes. Grieve, of course. Do not deny the anger or fear that stirs within you. But then let the darkness shape you into a vessel of good.
Because, perhaps, the best way to push back hate is with an outrageous, extravagant dose of love.
So much love we're all but drowning in it.
A love tsunami, if you will.
Because by showing the world more kindness and compassion I can create meaningful change in small yet significant ways. And those tiny spots of light in the darkness might just be the most powerful gift I have to give.
Because right now we need all the goodness that we can get. Love in every manifestation.
Like the quiet love that takes the form of non-judgement, acceptance, and allowing. Or love-in-action in the shape of helpfulness, random acts of kindness, and full-on out-loud encouragement. Yes, even the self-love found by following your heart and accepting who you truly are.
And the brave, courageous love of speaking your truth and standing up for what is right – no matter the cost. Even if you tremble.
And then raising our children to do the same.
Perhaps a simple place to start is by choosing kindness that we can measure. Just a few acts of pure love each day. Even if we have to force it at first. Because it's difficult to find the goodness today. Because our hearts are growing hard from too much grief.
Let's start with five. Just five small acts of kindness.
Five moments when we say no to hate and yes to love. Five chances to be on the side of good. Five moments each day to let your heart soften and open wide.
Leave an anonymous note on a co-workers' desk saying that you see his heart and it is kind. Make tea for a weary friend, or pay the fee for the car behind you at the toll booth or the drive through.
Bring a sandwich to the homeless person you pass on your way to work or hand a fist-full of dollars and a gift card to the grocery store to that man with the cardboard sign at the intersection on your way home.
And here at home, kindness comes through listening, patiently, when our loved ones falter. If we want more gentleness we must be gentle. If we want compassion we must fill the world with our own.
Because more than anything we teach our children through our actions.
They see how we look at those different then us; they hear what we talk about when they're in the next room. Let them overhear talk of compassion and love, not judgment and negativity. Because they're taking notes.
Our truths become theirs, and our words settle into their very hearts. Let's put love there instead of hate. Hope instead of fear.
Who's in?
We can change the world in these small but vital ways. If only we decide to. And right now that's the best that I have to give.
I imagine this is supposed to be a non-political space, and I appreciate that, but I also hoped to share a kindness done to me. I’m a 45 year old white woman devastated by what has happened. A large group of people began to gather in my city tonight to protest and to proclaim that we welcome immigrants, Muslims and people of color and will not accept cruelty, hate or maltreatment of any people. I didn’t expect to go, but found myself drawn there. I just stood and cried. A woman 20 years younger than I am asked, “Are you OK?” I said, “No. I’m not.” She said, “Me neither.” And she opened her arms and hugged me. I don’t know her name, and will likely never see her again, but that human encounter mattered to me, and gave me hope. No kindness is ever wasted. Thank you for this post.
Beautiful, Lisa. Thank you.
Such a beautiful post, Rachel. I thought this year should be my Year of Kindness. But somehow, at the end of the year, I am losing faith that it pays to be kind. These words are a little step toward regaining that faith.
This is so powerful, a little kindness goes a long way.