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Finding and Being Humbled by the Beauty of Human Kindness (Day 5)

So this happened today . . . 


(It was much harder than I thought . . . It takes a long time to get enough spit to fill this vile.)

So that’s why yesterday was hard.  

We’ve been exposed (that word—it’s like you’ve been caught naked—and it kind of feels like that) to someone with Covid-19 for an extended period of time.  It was about six days ago, but they only got their positive test last night.  So we had to go down and tell the kids that Halloween at school, what small tributes were going to take place, were not going to happen because we were now on lock down until we know if we are covid positive.  In fact, instead of planning on and putting together costumes, we needed to text and call and inform everyone we’ve been in contact with that we were indeed exposed and that we could be carriers and they too might have been exposed (that word again).

It’s such a humbling and embarrassing and humiliating thing to have to do—call and text people and tell them that they could have been compromised by my being exposed.  My friend, who had covid a month ago, said telling people you’ve been in contact with was worse than the sickness.  Informing people that their lives might be about to change in every possible way for the worse, was lie down and die hard.  

I had to agree with her.  Especially informing those who are at risk or about to have surgery or pregnant or have little tiny ones.  No bueno.

But I was in for a surprise.  What made me bow down and cry today, was the unexpected kindness with which this bad news was taken.  There was so much understanding, encouragement, wishes for health, and such generosity of spirit, that I was overcome.

I feel like we hear so much hate and anger and bitterness and fear going on in the world and sometimes we expect that from others, when in fact, we have not forgotten kindness.  We have not forgotten empathy.  We have not forgotten how to how to help and lift each-other.

But I had forgotten that.  

I expected anger and fear and hate, but I didn’t find that.  I can’t even tell you how much, in this moment of exposure—guilty and afraid myself—I felt embraced and wrapped in the warmth of brotherly kindness.

I don’t want Covid.  I don’t want anyone I know and love to have it.  I am watching someone I love bravely fight it and it’s not pleasant, but in this, I have been reminded of the beauty housed within each human being.

Thank you.

Thank you for being the type of humans who put aside your own fear and worries to be strong and good for me and to me.  

As John and I were running today (on paths where we didn’t really see anyone), I saw two signs.  I know they’re probably political and people may have a reaction to them, but I’m quoting them anyways because they are full of truth.

“Make America Kind again” was one and “kindness is everything” was the other.  As I passed by each, my eyes filled up with tears and I couldn’t see and almost tripped and had to stop and walk (oh blessed day) and catch my breath.  I thought,  America, we are kind.  I remembered walking around the Statue of Liberty in New York City, and the Declaration of Independence in Washington DC, and soaking in the truly sacred fields of Gettysburg.  Each reminded me to hope, against all odds, for a better world for those coming behind us.  Today I was reminded that we are all ONE people.  We may look at the world different and become loud and cranky because someone doesn’t see eye to eye with us, but at our core, we are good and we are kind and we ALL want the same thing—peace and safety and this stupid Covid to end.  

It seems to divide us, this covid and politics, but it won’t.  Because at our root we are stronger than our hate and anger and different opinions.  It can’t blot out that beautiful light of kindness in each of us.

And today, kindness was everything to me.

Example below—even though our cousin pumpkin carving contest was cancelled in REAL life, cousins Zoomed in to have the best carving party yet . . . 




Also . . . Look at that concentration face (and cute little tongue)

She makes it look easy . . .what you can’t see is that the underside of this pumpkin looks EXACTLY like a bum (her lantern might be pushing out a . . . )

Mine! Haven’t had time to carve one in years . . . Silver Lining of Quarantine.  Also the little apple on top which is strangely blurry, is John’s great carving masterpiece.

And I can’t get this to turn right Side up . . . So tilt your head to the left—just a little bit more—and you can see our jack o lanterns lit up!  Finns is in the back, Piper’s pooping face is in front of Finn’s and mine is to the side.

Yep, that nose is very piggy.  I like it . . . 




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