Day Three—It’s Never Just Five Minutes (or, Not All Cops Are Jerks)

Today was supposed to be a quiet day, working from home.  I had only one responsibility today, besides finishing up a few random things for church on Sunday.  I had to take my Syrian friend to her therapy appointment. It was supposed to be one hour out of my day, something I could check off my to-do list before getting back home to finish up some work and cook dinner.  And I could have done that, had I simply dropped my friend off outside her house and then driven home.  But I didn’t.  Because I thought it would be more kind to stop in and say hello to the family whom I hadn’t really talked to since last week. One member of the family had just had surgery and so I wanted to see how he was doing. That was to be my act of kindness for the day. So I went inside. And I told them I wasn’t going to stay, but the patriarch of the family-- we’ll just call him A.-- said to me, “Five minute, Sara.” At which point we all laughed. Because in this household, there is no such thing as five minutes. Five minutes turns into a cup of coffee, which turns into a bowl of rice pudding, and before you know it, it’s dinner time, and you’ve been there for an hour. This time, however, I really was only going to stay for five minutes (meaning, maybe 15 minutes). And that’s when it all went off the rails.

While we were sitting and talking, A. got a call on his cell phone. Turns out, another Syrian family, recently arrived in America, was on their way to visit from New London. But they had been pulled over by the police about three blocks from A.’s house. And this was bad, because no one in this new family had a driver’s license. Before I knew it, A. was putting his phone in my hands and asking me to talk to the police. I got on the phone, having no idea what was happening, and a cop asked me if I could explain to the driver and his family that he was going to follow them the rest of the way to A.’s house, where he would give them a ticket and then be on his way.  I could not do this, because I do not speak Arabic. So I said I would come meet them. A. and I jumped in my car and drove three blocks to find a van full of Syrian refugees and two police cruisers with lights flashing. “Oh!” said A.  I just shook my head. It’s never just five minutes, I thought.

I went to speak with the cops, who lectured me (as if I was somehow in charge of these people whose names I didn’t even know) about international driving laws. And he said that he was going to be nice and let them off with just a ticket, even though technically he could have their car towed right then and there.  “Yes, officer, thank you officer,” I said.  “Can you please explain to them about the ticket?” the officer asked. Seriously?  Do I look like someone who speaks Arabic??  “No,” I said, “but I can call someone who can.” At which point I pulled out my phone to call one of our translators, thinking I could put him on speaker phone with the cop.  But by the time I had dialed the number, the cops were in their cars pulling away.  So I was on my own.

To make a very long story much shorter, the translator dropped everything he was doing to come and save the day.  (He gets the kindness award for the day). We all made it back to A.’s house safely, and the new family got quite a lecture about the rules of the road in America.  Never a dull moment folks.  And it’s never, ever just five minutes.

100 Days of Kindness- Day Two

I’m just sitting down to type this at 9:45pm, and I’ve been up since 5:30am, so I’m going to be brief today.  Today was an easy one, because I already had it on my calendar to volunteer at the New London Community Breakfast program this morning.  It’s not hard to find opportunities to connect with people and show kindness in such a setting.  I’m sure I’ll have more opportunities to say more about the breakfast program over the next 100 days, but for now, I’ll just mention the two new friends I made today.  First, I met Nate.  Nate is an older gentleman who I’ve noticed in the last two months that I’ve been volunteering, always sits in the same chair in the back of the room.  He sits by himself and never talks to anyone.  He doesn’t eat breakfast, he just sits and drinks his coffee. Today I decided to go talk to him.  I wasn’t sure how friendly he would be, but it turns out that Nate was more than happy to chat with me.  He seemed a little shy, so I figured I would just chat for a few minutes so as not to overwhelm him. On my way back to the kitchen, I was stopped by Larry, who I had met the previous week, but hadn’t spoken with at length.  Larry told me how much he likes meeting new friends, and that he tries to make friends everywhere he goes.  I told him he could definitely count me as a friend, and we chatted a little while longer before I had to get back in the kitchen to help with clean up. 

There’s so much more I could say, but it’s getting late and my husband just turned on the John Oliver show, so I’ll save the analysis for another day. Looking forward to another day of kindness tomorrow!

100 Days of Kindness: Day 1

Day One.

I woke up this morning excited about the first day of 100 days of kindness.  What would I do today to start things off, I wondered. I decided to just let the day unfold and try to be open to any opportunities that came up. Most of the morning was spent doing busy work in the office, catching up on emails and phone calls after a weekend away.  After finishing up an afternoon appointment, I decided to walk over to the local food co-op to grab a quick lunch and a cold beverage.  On my way there, I was careful to be aware of my surroundings, noticing who walked past me on the sidewalk, smiling and saying hello to people as we passed. (In New England, this alone can be something of a radical act.)

At the store, I bought some fruit for myself, and, on the off chance that I ran into someone who was hungry, bought some beautiful looking apricots and cherries.  In the check-out line, I noticed a cute little coin purse made from recycled materials that was adorned with the words, “you are beautiful, don’t change.”  On an impulse, I bought it, thinking it would be a nice gift to give someone who needed a little cheering up. I paid for my groceries and headed back down the street towards my office.  On the way there, I kept my eye out for someone I could engage with. Most people looked busy, purposeful, not necessarily open to talking to some random stranger on the street. As I walked by the Salvation Army, however, I noticed an elderly Hispanic woman in the parking lot—it looked like maybe she was waiting for someone. And so I approached her. I smiled and said hello.  She smiled warmly back at me, but didn’t say anything. I asked her if she spoke English.  She shook her head, no.  At that moment I wondered what to do. I had the fruit in my bag, but all of a sudden I felt weird about giving fruit to a total stranger in a parking lot. I had obviously not thought this through.  

“Can I help you?” came a voice from the building behind me. A younger looking man came walking over to us. I didn’t really know what to say, and all of a sudden felt extremely awkward. So I panicked. I pulled the coin purse out of my bag, and said, “I just wanted her to have this.” I turned to the woman, “God bless you” I said, “have a beautiful day.”  I felt like a total weirdo, though the woman smiled broadly at me as she took the coin purse. I gave an awkward wave to both of them as I turned around and headed back across the street.  I did not look back for fear that they would be staring and laughing at the crazy woman who was giving away purses in the Salvation Army parking lot.

So today I learned a few things about this little project.  First, I learned that having the goal of reaching out in kindness to at least one person every day actually requires one to pay attention.  It’s so easy to get wrapped up in our own personal bubbles as we go about our daily business that we don’t even notice the people around us. Second, I learned that walking up to strangers on the street is a lot harder than I thought, and, without any real purpose, maybe not actually advisable. Finally, I learned that perhaps “random” acts of kindness, while certainly not a bad thing, are not necessarily always going to work best.  I think I’d prefer to be a little more intentional about this endeavor, which will require a little more effort, thoughtfulness and planning on my part.  So for tomorrow, I’m thinking more along the lines of a pre-meditated act of kindness.  Stay tuned…

100 Days of Kindness

Hey there.  How’s it going for you these days?  Okay?  Maybe not so good?  Maybe you’re feeling a little down, a little depressed over the state of the world, the state of our nation, the state of your local community, the state of your family, or maybe even the state of your soul? Maybe you’re kind of having a tough time knowing where you fit anymore, or knowing how you can make a difference. Maybe you feel totally helpless, and maybe that stirs up all sorts of other emotions for you—depression, despair, anger, fear, anxiety, frustration… the list could go on. Maybe you choose not to think about it, because what’s the point anyway? It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it, right?

Well, I’ll be the first to admit it, if that helps at all. I’m having a tough time.  Like, a really, really tough time.  Ever since the election (and if we’re being honest, for many years leading up to it) I have felt more and more as if the world has no place for someone like me.  A dreamer. A peacemaker. A gentle soul who would rather talk it out over hot chocolate than fight about it on Facebook or Twitter. I have felt more and more in these past few months that I am an oddity, and something of a worn-out, semi-useless oddity at that. I suppose the best way to explain why I’ve been feeling this way lately is by telling a story from something that happened shortly after Trump’s inauguration.

I was one of millions of women around the world who participated in the Women’s March on Washington this past January. I, along with about 50 other women in my town, stumbled sleepily onto a bus in Norwich, CT at 1:30am in order to arrive in Washington D.C. later that morning for the march.  After the march was over, many of us who had ridden that bus decided we wanted to stay in touch, and maybe even try and organize. And so I attended the very first organizing group meeting several weeks later.  As part of our debriefing, we went around the room and talked about what struck us at the march—what were our take-a-ways?  I answered that what struck me the most was the kindness and generosity people were extending to one another that day.  The joy in the air.  The sense of hope and possibility. Because for once, we weren’t tearing each other apart.  We were rejoicing in our solidarity and shared hope for the future.  People were kind to one another. It was glorious and beautiful. I was so moved by it. And so, I said that if we wanted to be successful, if we truly wanted to change any hearts and minds (and make no mistake, this is all about changing about hearts and minds), kindness was going to be key.  Kindness, compassion, love, and mutual respect. That is the only way we are going to get out of the mess we find ourselves in. That’s what I said. But not a few minutes later did a relatively well-known political figure in the room say there was no room for kindness anymore.  We were going to have to be “a$#holes” if we were going to get what we wanted, or so this person seemed to think. And to my dismay, most women in the room seemed to agree. There I was, alone in my naïve dream of a revolution of kindness and love.  Bubble burst. Holding back the tears until it was time to go home.

I left that night thinking, “where is my place in this world?” Where is the place for someone like me who thinks that we should be supporting each other in common goals rather than constantly being suspicious of one another’s motives?  Where is the place for someone like me who believes we ought to be building each other up from the ground up, not tearing each other down?  In the days since that meeting (I haven’t gone back to another of those meetings since), I’ve tried, with varying degrees of success, to move forward towards my dream that with just a tiny bit of effort, we could make this world a much softer, much kinder place.  And yes, I have been called naïve.  I have been called idealistic.  I have been told my ideas won’t work. But I’m not going to give up. Not yet.

And so, starting tomorrow—Wednesday, June 28^th 2017-- I am launching my newest endeavor. It’s not clever.  It’s nothing earth-shattering or extraordinary.  It’s just 100 days of kindness.  That’s all. No more, no less.  100 days of doing something kind and compassionate for someone else. Because I’m tired of hearing people say that kindness isn’t enough.  Actually, I think it may just be the one thing left that can save us.  If nothing else, maybe it can save me.

Anyway, I’m hopeless when it comes to blogs, and so, for now, this will all be going on Facebook as well as my ancient Wordpress blog (http://sara-fromthehill.blogspot.com).  Frankly, I’m impatient, and I want to start doing this now rather than waiting the two months it would probably take for me to figure out how to start a new blog from scratch. Check back each day to hear about that day’s act of kindness.  Leave comments with your own suggestions, or better yet, try it yourself and leave a comment telling me how it went. Maybe we could even create an army of compassionate souls, moving the world with the power of love, mercy and kindness. Stranger things have happened, I’m sure of it.

Stay tuned for my first act of kindness later today.  In the meantime…

Peace and loving-kindness to all,

Sara