As a new mom of twins I was struggling to balance my new expanded family. When my boys were only a couple months old I was attempting to get my grocery shopping done. They were screaming blood curdling screams. The only thing that calmed them down was me holding them. I could not hold both at once and push the cart, so we played musical baby. So at least only one was screaming at once. My milk began to let down. I began to sweat. Just at the breaking point, just when the uncontrollable tears were starting to flow-an angel came.
An angel came as a elderly woman who could not have been more than five feet tall. She spoke so soft as she approached me. I heard her voice calm and clear.
“Baby’s cries are music to God’s ears.” She said slowly and surely as she touched my arm. “It shows they have fight.” She looked me in the eye and smiled a Mona Lisa smile.
My heart melted. The tears no longer were painful to me, but music to my ears.
My twin boys are 2 years old now. To this day when things get tough, I hear her voice calm and soft. I hear her voice, and I am a better mom.
A woman walked onto the bus just after her water bottle had broken in her purse. She didn’t have time to run home to fix things because she didn’t want to be late for work.
An older woman with a large purse pulled out some paper towels to help her, and then a cloth grocery bag to put her things in. And some plastic bags to keep what hadn’t gotten wet from getting wet. Every time the younger woman came across another problem caused by the water, the older woman had something that could help.
Thanks to the kindness and generosity of this well-prepared lady, the younger woman got off the bus much happier than she’d been when she got on.
I’m not the most negative pessimistic person, but sometimes I really get to thinking- well, negatively.
This weekend while driving through a town about to start a parade I saw an elderly man trying to leave a driveway and a teenage girl walking down the sidewalk about to cross him when suddenly she stopped, started waving her arms and pointing at the ground.
I couldn’t figure out what in the world she was doing until the man started backing his car up. I looked down at the ground out my window and he had initially missed the actual driveway and would have rode right off the curb had she not pointed it out.
Nothing spectacular, worst case he would have messed up his alignment, but the fact that this girl would notice and then bother to point out this impending problem was, really kind of… nice.
When my son was between the ages of four and eight, as I would tuck him into bed at night, I would ask him to mention one kind thing he had done during the day. He loved this and would proudly report something like: “I held the door open for a man at the gas station who had his hands full,” or “I moved my bike off the jogging trail so the Mom with a baby stroller had more room”, or “I told my kindergarten teacher her new hair cut was pretty”.
I would often witness these kind acts while I was with him and watch as he would give me a smile knowing that we would talk about it at bedtime. This was something we both enjoyed and helped instill the importance of kindness into my young child. He is too big to be tucked into bed now, but we still share reports of kind acts when we are eating dinner or driving to football practice.