Kindness

A friend calls to see how I am doing. A stranger gives me a warm smile when I take my afternoon walk. My husband shares a joke he has just read while we fix dinner together.

These acts of kindness lift my spirit, and I am reminded of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem “Kindness.”

Before you know what kindness really is

you must lose things,

feel the future dissolve in a moment

like salt in a weakened broth.

What you held in your hand,

what you counted and carefully save,

all this must go so you know

how desolate the landscape can be

between the regions of kindness….

Then, it is only kindness that makes sense anymore.

–Joy

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