In A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams, the female character, Blanche Dubois, says, “I
have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Although, and let’s be honest here, Blanche could be
classified as a “hot mess”, I think she’s got the right idea.
I was driving home this morning after dropping my daughter off at school. Where she attends
school is surrounded by newer homes and various hiking and biking trails. Because it had snowed last night, the
trails were covered with ice and snow.
As I was driving, I noticed a little girl trying to help an elderly
woman who had slipped on the ice.
The girl couldn’t have been more than my daughter’s age, maybe around 9
or 10. The women kept trying to
stand, but the girl wasn’t strong enough to hold her.
It would have been very easy to just ignore the woman and
child and to drive past. I,
however, know first hand what it is to fall face first (both in snow and
metaphorically) and to have someone help me back up. I pulled over to the side of the road to help her.
The little girl turned out to be the woman’s
granddaughter. She doesn’t
normally stay with her grandmother, so this was certainly not something with
which she would have to deal on a regular basis. Her face was scrunched up with worry and she was near tears,
but I could see she was fighting to keep it together. When they realized I was there to help, her grandmother consoled
the girl and sent her on to school.
I helped the woman back to her house. She didn’t live far, thank goodness, as
she had banged up her leg pretty bad (and quite frankly, my own shoes, a ratty
pair of Converse low tops, were a bit slippy. I didn’t want to fall and pull her down again with me!). When I left her at her house, she
grasped my hand and said, “Well, that was your good deed for the day!” I smiled and said, “No worries”—not
telling her how many times a stranger had been kind to me in the past or that I
hoped someone would do the same for me if I ever needed it. Nor did I tell her how hard I have to
work to be kind sometimes.
That’s a funny concept, isn’t it, working to be kind?
It is true for me, though.
Oh, I am friendly enough and have no problem smiling at a stranger or being courteous to a
waiter or retail worker. I hold
doors open for people and I thank those who have assisted me. I compliment people when I like their shoes, clothes, accessories, hair, makeup or even their children. I try not to cut
people off in traffic or in store lines or to share my bad mood with the
general public. Yup, I am
kind to strangers.
It’s with the people I know that I sometimes feel I have to
work that much harder.
Rather than intentionally hurting someone’s feelings, I typically choose to be
diplomatic, yet direct. Sometimes, though, it just isn’t in me,
maybe because my kindness (or patience!) has been abused too much before. Or I am tired of fighting the same
battle over and over again.
I have a pretty bad temper, with the capability to blow up when
warranted. It generally takes a
while for me to get to that point, but it’s always there. Waiting.
Obviously, certain people (or types of
people) may trigger my temper easier than others. Passive aggressive, ignorant or verbally abusive a-holes,
for example. My daughter
sometimes. My ex-husband for
sure. The only power anyone ever
has over us is the power we give to him or her, though, right? That’s where working to be kind comes
in. NO, punching people in the
head may not be the best form of communication…even if it feels necessary to
get a point across.
Awwww, look, I’m growing. Yay me.
Now if we could just get everyone to do the same, to show warmth
and compassion to everyone—even the ones who could benefit from a good neck
wringing. What harm is there in a
smile, a kind word or a helping hand?
Hmmmmm. What an interesting
world that might be.
Until tomorrow, Lovelies….
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