Simple Kindnesses

• "Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible." — Dalai Lama

• "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." — Ian MacLaren

• You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

• Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again — Og Mandino

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If you live, as I do, with a beloved person who has a debilitating, progressive neurological illness, you learn a few things along the way. You learn how to cope with each change. You continually figure out the things that work best. You adapt to an increasingly circumscribed world. You learn patience. You discover that love takes on new colors and hues all the time.

Here is one of the very best things I have learned: People are kind.

Oh, I know, there is unkindness and cruelty a-plenty in this world. I won’t deny it. But those things, shocking as they are, are what produce headlines. Those things provide ready clickbait. What you don’t hear are quieter stories like the one I am about to tell with my beloved’s permission. My guess is that there are countless untold stories like this one.

The most notably frustrating aspect of my beloved’s illness is a steady decline in his ability to walk. At first, it wasn’t really noticeable. Then it was slightly noticeable. Then it was really noticeable. And now you just can’t miss it. He freezes, he shuffles, he takes an extraordinary amount of time getting from here to there. In public situations he usually depends on a wheelchair.

One day, back when walking was starting to be a serious challenge for him, I came face-to-face with the kindness of strangers, and I have never forgotten it. While on a road trip, my partner and I made a pit stop at a rest area that had a men’s room, a women’s room, and no other options. I escorted my beloved as he haltingly made his way to the men’s room door. Once there, I had to abandon him. I made a quick trip to the women’s room. When I emerged, the person running the concession stand at the rest stop called across the room to me.

“Ma’am, are you with the man with a cane who just went into the men’s room?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Well, he needs help. There’s no one else in there right now. You can go help him, and I will keep other men from entering until you exit.”

So, in I went. I assisted my loved one to the sink so that he could wash up, and then I helped him out the door as he stepped slowly and gingerly with his cane in one hand while clinging tightly to me with his other hand. As we opened the door to the men’s room, we encountered a looooong line of men waiting to enter. Not one of them was tapping his foot impatiently. Not one of them was looking pointedly at his watch. Not one of them was rolling his eyes. Not one of them was heaving a deep sigh of annoyance.

Not one.

Instead, most of the men in the line sprang into action, offering to help us. They made a wide aisle for us to walk down. They leapt to the doors to hold them open for us. They offered us their kindness in every possible way.

That was at least a couple of years ago. As time has passed, we have been the recipients of that manner of kindness over and over again. So, so many people offering to help. Giving up their seats for us. Lifting the wheelchair in and out of the car for me. Seating us at the table closest to the door so that we don’t have to walk very far. Taking my loved one’s hand and assisting him as he labors along. Holding doors open and waiting patiently (and, believe me, this requires patience, because we make slow progress). Essentially saying, in any conceivable way, “How can I help?” and “Here, I can do that for you.”

Some of those compassionate people are friends and family, of course. But many, many, many of them are total strangers whose sole desire is to help someone who clearly needs assistance. Never has anyone checked first to make sure our political views align with theirs. They have never asked us our religion. They have never queried us about where we stand on the issues of the day. They have never demanded to have a look at our bank account. They have simply offered to help. Again and again.

So, when I find myself starting to lose faith in humanity, I try to call to mind all the people who help us. People are kind, I am telling you. They really are.

Love,

Sylvia