Sunny Side Up April 2, 2003 �2001, Kathleen Gibson Acts of kindness more important than ever Kindness is, above all, part boomerang. It sends a bit of itself back to where it came from to plump up the heart of the giver. But it does the opposite too. Pass up an obvious opportunity for kindness, and you�ll have permanent dent in your heart. This is one of my biggest: The setting could have been lifted directly from the pages of a 1960�s grade school reader. Canada Day, several years back�perfect, cloudless. The Preacher and I had joined the crowds relaxing on the spreading greens of our local museum. A spectacular collar of white spiraea wreathed the bandstand, where an energetic young Celtic band spun a fine reel. Families sprawled on blankets, reclined in lawn chairs. Children skipped. Old lovers wandered hand in hand. The air carried the fragrance of roasting hot dogs, the sounds of lively celebration. I watched a dark-haired woman�one of a group of adults from a workshop for the mentally challenged�amble into the clear spot in front of the bandstand. She reminded me of my sister, Ginny. She cocked her head, listened for the beat, and began bouncing. First on one leg, then another, oblivious to the crowd. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, one arm floated in the air to rest where a partner�s shoulder may have been. The other bent at the elbow, encircling an invisible waist, and then she was waltzing�kind of. It was the dance of a child; uninhibited, uncoordinated, inviting. Her smile shone bright over the phantom�s shoulder as she spun, her eyes beseeching. Cut in, they invited. Please. Some merely smiled. Others looked away uncomfortably. I squirmed, thinking of Ginny, and how it incensed me when people looked past her, or worse, mocked her to her face. Join the dance, said my heart. Make her day. Who cares what they think? This story may have had a different ending had it had been set in another city. But a few people know me in my town. And I don�t dance well. I held my seat, looked away like the rest whenever the woman came close. The dance I never danced still haunts me. The big little kindness that got away, that could have enriched two�possibly more�lives, had I not counted the paltry pennies of pride too large a cost. A handful of kindness, given and received, is essential to survive. But a heartful is needed to thrive. None of us is so wealthy that we can afford to repeatedly pass up the opportunities for kindness that tiptoe close and tap us on the shoulder. Even if it means dancing when we can�t do it worth a darn. As our world focuses on war, let�s counter the pervasive gloom with a different sort of battle. Fight the tendency to sit back and watch the sad around us dance alone. Join the lonely for coffee, brighten someone�s day with a call. Forget our pride. The outcome is certain. We�ll win. Respond to these words at [email protected] |
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