K is for Kindness

It is hard to avoid  the pressing concerns that swirl about our troubled world. Headlines scream of global warming....news stories explode with incidents of war, prejudice  and massacre.

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So often, we sit shaking our heads, mouth open, appalled at how we, as a people, have so gravely damaged ourselves and our world.

But what can we do...what can any of us do to make a difference in the face of ongoing  devastation?.

A good start is to believe we have more individual power than we think.

I have noted that kindness has become under-rated. Of course, we hear many stories of people putting their own safety at risk to help a stranger. Such stories reaffirm our faith in human nature. 

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Unfortunately, there are also tales to highlight the disconnect that plagues modern society...too many incidents of people looking the other way because they don't want to get involved.

But imagine a world wherein each of us dug deep in ourselves for empathy and compassion...imagine if a Kindness Movement rose up from where it has been sleeping and we began to take care of one another, not just our own family, but reached out to offer a helping hand to anyone  we saw in need. 

I know I may be criticized for my Pollyanna optimism...I have been in the past. Perhaps it is simplistic to suggest a bit of kindness can change 

the world, but where else can we all start, if not with ourselves?

Kindness multiplies when it is given freely and openly. It need not be much...even a small gesture can expand when passed on.

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 I have a dear friend at work who practices Random Acts of Kindness. She might mention casually that she'd paid for the coffee a man ahead of her in Starbucks had ordered. Her immediate reward is a happy grin from the surprised customer.

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 But can you picture, then, how that man will do something nice when a chance comes up for him to make a difference in someone else's day?

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Imagine that multiplied many times over and you begin to see that change is possible. Get involved in your community. Give  what you can...do all that you are able to on this busy planet and we all benefit.

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Make each day a chance to improve your world in small ways. When you see tourists quizzically scanning a map, go over and help them find their way. Better yet, buy them a drink from the nearest street vendor, while expounding on the many beauties to be found in your part of the world.

Kindness will not always feel like kindness.  I have found it difficult in the past to tell people I do not appreciate what they are saying, but I will no longer listen to racist jokes....it is not just a joke!

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Pointing out that I'm an immigrant, too, and that I find the reference offensive always leads to sputtering and protestations: "Oh I didn't mean you...you're white and you speak English!"

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These are words my egalitarian spirit cannot embrace. I only hope that a calm discussion may cause that person to think before he spews out more bigotry disguised as humour.

I am no-one's idea of a role model...nor am I besieged with kudos and awards, but I have learned in my time that we each have untold depths of compassion and goodness in us just waiting to be unleashed and embraced.

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Of this, I am sure...

Please drop by ABC Wednesday to see more takes on the letter 'K".

http://abcwednesday-mrsnesbitt.blogspot.ca/

A Love Story...

My marriage began with an elopement..

In the Sixties, twenty-one was the age to marry without parental consent in Canada. While I was of age, Michael had just turned twenty. From the beginning, our partnership was not treasured by either set of parents…in fact there was little common ground for either family to understand the other at all. My Irish emigrant parents were much too fond of whisky, and loved a loud, resounding fight…Michael’s parents had a glass of good wine with dinner and never, ever raised their voices.
.November 12th, 1968

My parents each had to leave school as young teenagers to help support their families in poverty-ravaged Belfast…Michael’s parents were university-educated professionals of some note. The chasm between our perspective realities grew ever wider as we got to know each other. When invited to Michael’s for a meal, I was flustered by the plethora of cutlery spread out before me, and struggled not to gag at the sight of bloody red meat floating on its fine china platter. When coming to my house for dinner, Michael did not immediately recognize the shriveled gray lump on his plate as roast beef, and seemed puzzled that it was served on TV trays in front of the hockey game. The two households were polar opposites in terms of culture, economics, social standing and stability.

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It was no real surprise then, when our announced plan to marry after dating for a year hit a hard wall of resistance. What started out as flat refusal grudgingly eased on my parents’ part when I rose above my normally timid nature and made it clear this was what I wanted, though dire warnings of certain regret were rained upon me night after night without fail. Michael’s parents held out longer, but finally, unhappily agreed to give their consent when it was clear we were going ahead. We planned a very small wedding, immediate family only as all my relatives were overseas, and my future in-laws did not see it as an occasion to celebrate. I bought a pretty white dress…we looked at apartments, and lined up a minister at our local Anglican church.

A week before the wedding was to take place, Michael’s mum and dad rescinded, protesting they could not in all conscience condone this farce of a marriage that would never last. They would not sign the consent forms after all.

.Africa , 2007, after a hot-air balloon ride over the Serengeti.

We were in love; we’d bought furniture, rented an apartment…we eloped, flying from Vancouver to Detroit to be married in the City Hall by a Justice of the Peace, because it was the only place we knew with a lower age restriction. It would be nice to say that things improved markedly after that, but such was not the case. It was a number of years before the bitterness between the families softened, and life took on some normalcy. It was definitely not an ideal way to start a marriage. Eventually, gaps were bridged, bonds were formed and our children could have both sets of grandparents in a room together, but a heavy price was paid to get to there…

That was forty-two years ago today, and if I had to, I would do it all again in a minute! I’m blessed to be married to my kind and funny best friend; a man who is truly one of the good guys, someone who consistently goes out of his way to help others and has the gentlest nature of anyone I know. Of course we’ve had our ups and downs as couples do, but not for a minute have I regretted tying my life to his.

For four decades, we have laughed and loved…lived a full life together with all the joy, sorrow and wonderment that building a family entails. It has been an amazing ride and I hope for many more years to share with him..

We staged a quick photo shoot the evening after returning from Detroit, so I might get to wear my little wedding dress at least once, and have pictures to remember the day. It is still a strange mix of emotions I experience when looking at these photos, our obvious delight in each other tempered by so many conflicting factors. But one can’t dwell on what might have been, and while ours is not a traditional love story with the fairy tale wedding and the happily-ever-after, we have made our own story and it is a good one.
You continue to be my hero, Michael. I admire your compassionate heart, your sense of justice and your ability to see what truly matters in the world…and it is no small thing that you still make me laugh more easily than anyone else I’ve ever met.

I will love you forever…
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