I was sitting in my office on a rainy weekday morning, keeping up with social media, email and paperwork. Gave my eyes a break, looked out the window, and spied a woman trying to quietly leave something on my porch.
Thankfully it wasn't a political or religious leaflet, and the woman was no stranger to me, so I put on my slippers and peaked out the door to see what was left behind: a beautiful basket of squash soup-makings and a bag of my favorite coffee. Wow. I ran down the stairs to street level and caught my friend in mid-flight to her car: "Hey! Thank you!"
Sheepish look on her face, she stated she wanted to surprise me--even took her shoes off to do so. I stated one cannot sneak up on a shaman too easily...especially one with a street level office. She said she knew I was having a rough day, and thought this would help. Why yes it did.
The significance of this one kind gesture can not be overstated. All kind gestures contribute to our lives in ways we cannot measure.
A few years back, my hubby had lifesaving open heart surgery. It was a big deal, and he almost perished on the operating table, but made it through. Our friends around our small town knew of the situation. This was a caring community of folks who always came through with food or child-sitting and whatever else was needed for folks who are going through a rough time. So I thought that , when I brought the guy home, there the community would be for me. I was wrong. No phone calls, no offerings and, most importantly: no casseroles. Ya know, the casseroles you can put in the freezer and take out to feed one's family when one did not have the time or energy to cook? I have to admit I was deeply disappointed. I cried that night and the next from the stress of being with a guy so medically fragile while juggling kids and work. And silly as it seems, I cried because I wanted my damn casserole, and no-one came through for me.
Fast forward to recent adventures of leaving our home of 20 years as well as Jim's death and re-birth situation: I moved to this particular town for Jim, because he used to work here, and I thought his brain would heal faster with familiarity. What I didn't expect was what this community has done for MY healing.
So, on a rough day last week, the basket arrived right on time, and without me asking for it. It made all the difference. Last night, I shared my gratitude for this kindness with a group of new women friends. I also stated how great it felt to find this community, AND how great it was to be found and cherished.
You ever have the feeling that a kind act will help, but wonder if its too small or too late or too silly? Stop the wondering, and get to it. It really does make a difference. Kind thoughts are lovely. But kind actions can lift people from the brink...they are a powerful kind of healing.
Its a cold, rainy Fall day. I woke up, padded downstairs for coffee infusion, and for some reason, stopped by the front door, opened it to sniff some fresh air. There on our front porch was a lidded bowl with this note: "Mexican Chicken Gumbo.
Because you are my treasured friend."
What a gift. I feel loved.
Hope you do too.
love,
Elke
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