Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Life Stories Page 26 of 46

A Mom’s Perspective

By

On April 29, 2016

In Armchair Mayor Column, Homeschooling, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column in NewsKamloops on Friday April 29, 2016. 

ThemEvery few months or so, or at least a couple of times a year, there is some news about a mom breastfeeding in public and the implications of that. A case of a storm in a glass of water if you ask me. Somehow, we’re just not over this issue though it has been happening since the beginning of human history.

Yes, many of us are still collectively losing it as soon as a mom nurses her baby in public (yes, babies do eat at various times and in various places not just at home or in secretive locations.)

The negative opinions of the crowd range from shaming the mom and her propensity to expose herself (as if!) to whether she should still be nursing a child that is not a newborn anymore. To be fair, there are positive, encouraging remarks that show support and affirm that yes, it is absolutely normal for a young one to be nursed.

The latest nursing offense happened in Ontario. Though in a community centre, the mom was asked to go to the washroom to continue. Right. That she refused to do so only seems logical and self-respecting. No mom does the exposure to the point it becomes an issue and most times all you see is the baby’s head anyway. Covering up works for some babies but not for others so in imposing the cover-up we might just see more of what we’re trying to avoid seeing.

That she was asked to do that only proves that we are a few ages behind in acknowledging a fact of life (literally) that is not only healthy but fully supported and encouraged by various health organizations and yes, the recommendations clearly state nursing exclusively for the first six months of life and along with complimentary foods until the age of two and beyond.

It truly is mind-boggling that so many get their tails in a knot over this one again and again, while the exposure issue is a serious and worrying one in other areas of life that we should be more diligent to look into as a society or even become fully aware of.

It’s highly hypocritical to do the nursing mom hunt while the really troubling stuff exists in the shadows and grows continuously. The dark sides of internet information is where the true exposure to more than breasts happen, yet there is full freedom for kids, teens and the rest of the population to access it as they please and/or are sneaking their way towards it.

We have yet to make it a common place conversation among all of us, whether we are parents or not. As a society we are barking at the wrong tree when approaching the nursing mom situation with such apprehension while not seeing the dark forest behind it.

If we are to regulate things that can and do affect us as a society we have to look at how we’re being robbed of decency and innocence, start a conversation and initiate actions that will see us all better for it.

To be clear, I am an advocate of open conversations with children, explaining things to them according to their level of understanding and curiosity. Moreover, I am an advocate of spending enough time around the dinner table and otherwise, so that such conversations are not awkward and thus avoided, but happening matter-of-factly and thus allowing for the connection between us parents and children to grow deeper every time.

Yes, we need to do something and soon. Highly overdue I’d say when we have yet another 80 people in Ontario – one of whom was a daycare employee – charged with child pornography (charges include 274 offences) and when phone applications like Canadian-made Kik open the door to even more predators. No, I am not blaming the app but its features sure need some fixing so that the ill-intended cannot be given access.

We have much to worry about and baby nursing prudishness is not one of them. We have to worry about people whose faces and identities are concealed going after children (yes, teens are still children), we have to worry about how easily children can nowadays access online pornography and how overspread the rape culture is among young people, and we have to worry about how much even best-intentioned parents miss when it comes to knowing about their children’s online presence simply because there is just so much to handle.

So yes, let’s let the nursing moms nurse and instead approach the issues that can truly hurt us and our children. This is yet another elephant in the room, and we have to deal with it. Starting now would not be too soon.

A Dog Named Ringo

By

On April 4, 2016

In Life Stories

20160220_152251I am not good at delivering bad news. So the other morning when I showed up looking rather serious in the boys’ bedroom and said ‘I have sad news’, merely confirmed my lack of skill in the area.

One of my best friend’s dog died. Oh, you’ll say, that. Yes, that, but he was not ‘just a dog’ and I will tell you why. You see, having been through my fair share of losses of people I loved dearly since the age of six I know death well enough to know it reeks of helplessness. I accept it but I will never just shrug and say ‘Life is like that’ because I cannot say that with a straight face or I’d be lying.

This dog named Ringo was the reason I met my friend you see. A couple of days after we moved to Kamloops almost four years ago we were at the river where the sand is fine and sparkly, and the river laps ever so gently over your feet if you approach the water line. It’s the dog beach, my favourite in town (as long as you avoid the mid-summer madness.) Dogs have it good and I don’t mind because they can appreciate water and beaches.

That day we were four strangers on a pretty sandy beach trying to make sense of our new surroundings. A golden retriever was running in and out of the water, happy as happy can be. I don’t know if dogs ever laugh, but he was doing it right then and there.

I watched him, his joyful puppy face and his big golden frame dripping with water. He made me smile. The next thing I know I was talking to his owner. She and Ringo were to become our first friends here. A few days later when her and I met for a walk by the river, he spotted me coming from afar and ran to greet me. He jumped and gave me a kiss on the side of my mouth. Boundaries you say? Well, I took it as a compliment.

‘He’s not usually doing that…’ my bemused friend explained. We nicknamed him Lips and our friendship grew richer since because he was in it.

There is no obituary I can throw here without sounding melodramatic. That’s not what I want either. The morning I told the boys that Ringo died unexpectedly I choked though and my voice was teary. Because he was such an important part of our life here you see.

We’d take him for walks, or he would come to our place for the day. We would have him in the car on the way to some hills for a hike, lodged in between the boys and he would always put his big furry head on my armrest. I’d pet him in between the eyes and he would close them gently.

He always made sure the boys were close by when we hiked and if they got too far he ran to check on them. I hugged him often, checked him for cacti and ticks when needed and felt his soft fur with my feet when my friend and I sat for tea on the sofa and he lay on the floor under the coffee table, not bearing to be out of the conversation. We joked that he should have his own cup of tea too.

We once went to a lake and kayaked and he swam alongside the kayak, amazing me with his strength and determination to keep up with us. We kayaked up a stream to where the woods were mysterious and a bit frightening and I felt safe because Ringo was with us. His tracks and ours were left scattered on a sunny beach that already had imprints of bear paws.

that dayHe was gentle and even gentler if you asked him to, and he knew how to lay his head on my knee when a tough day would find me in my friend’s kitchen sipping tea and unraveling life’s complicated threads. He knew. That’s why he was not just ‘a dog’.

The boys’ eyes welled up when I told them the news, and mine teared up often during the day and then again the next day and the next. For the little boy, Ringo’s death was the first he experienced up close. Though Ringo was big, little boy always asked to hold the leash during walks because he knew he could trust him to listen. He did listen. And for all the times he didn’t, we loved him just the same.

Just like my dog many years ago, Ringo goes with bits of life I shared during evening walks on back alleys. One particularly bright evening this winter we left tracks on the new thin layer of snow and I was grateful for so much as I looked behind us and saw them.

Grateful for the gift of companionship my friend was sharing with me by sharing Ringo, and grateful that I could have my boys taste the heart-melting feeling of having a friend who makes you feel so utterly loved without needing any words to do so.

three boysTwo weeks ago we took him to the river. He tried to coax us to throw sticks in the water but we couldn’t. He had a dinner invite that evening which clearly stated ‘dry dog’ so I could not let him follow his impulses that one time. But we sat and watched ducks and geese waddling on the river shores and I laid my head on his in consolation. He accepted it and gently nuzzled me. I loved that. I will miss that.

 

MagicSo you see, his presence was more than just a dog’s presence would be. He was our friend in a way that will stay memorable and sweet. We will miss him and will always say his name with an extra happy note attached to it because he made it so. And I will always be grateful that I learned of that extra dimension of closeness that my friend gifted me by sharing Ringo.

The Search of Meaning Behind Darkness

By

On March 22, 2016

In Life Stories, Social issues

‘Everything that is done in the world is done by hope.’ Martin Luther

I have a round rock on my desk with a word on it: tranquility. It was given to be by the elderly lady who lived across the street from us during our first years in Kamloops.

It was after little boy’s most violent so far asthma attack when ambulances and fire trucks created the show of bright lights no one wants to be a direct part of. The rock is a reminder that someone cared enough to think of me needing it, then went looking for it and put it in my hand. That our former neighbour is almost blind makes it that much more meaningful.

The rock makes me think of that desirable state every time I pick it up and my thumb caresses over the word, erasing a few more molecules of paint every time, reminding me of how fragile the very concept is and how blinded we are when it comes to finding its meaning or at least stay on the path leading to it. The word eludes me still and, I dare say, most of the people out there.

Today the world got shattered again by two terrorist attacks in Brussels. The shadows are back again. In our world that is, the world where you can walk, on any given day, by a golden daffodil and actually see it without having to fear that a bomb or a bullet might kill you. Yet so many other people in other parts of the world do not get to see their daffodils bloom or they don’t care anymore if they are in bloom or not because life where they are does not allow for it. Today is a reminder of all of that and more.

It’s senseless. The death some humans hurl onto others. History has proven time and time again that hurting will only bring more of the same. The death of the innocent will make some turn to forgiveness and the rest to hatred, which is the unfortunate fuel that powers such attacks and the short unproductive answer to the most unproductive question of all: Why?

Today people were killed in retaliation, following the arrest of a suspect of the Paris attack just four days ago (claimed by the Islamic State). It makes no sense at all to most of us. It only casts a shadow as big and dark as the shadow of crime can be, leaving us bewildered as to how to find our way back to hope and faith in humanity. Tranquility?

That the world has been an unkind place for too long is no secret. We have made it to the moon and back more than once, we have split the atom and yet here we are, still clueless in the face of unexpected violent death that humans inflict upon humans. As much as I want to think that one day such things will not happen, I cannot.

Today is a reminder that we carry both love and hatred in our hearts, light and darkness to use as we see fit, two sides to learn from and employ in our search for meaning. Today will make some more hateful and others less so as they understand that hatred and revenge lower us to below human while pointing to the obvious: we are all the same, capable of both, and the choice of one over the other is what makes us different in how we live.

Today comes with grief and questions. It reminds of death and hope also, and it reminds of how choosing to unload the burden of hatred makes us light enough to carry on with the search for what makes sense.

Today is a day to remember to pray for all of those who suffer as they go to sleep tonight knowing that they’ll wake up without their loved ones, for those who try to not lose their hearts to hatred and for those who are hiding in its dark corners still, ready to take more lives and refusing to understand that meaning will never come from killing and causing someone to suffer. Today tries us and our strength to carry on hoping, yet again and despite of.

20160321_180232Today reminds of the truth we so often forget… The day is all we have, the chance to make it count renewed each day. On any given day, we catch wisps of hope from wherever we can find them and hurry to unravel strands of despair, crushing them as we strive to find our way through shadows and refusing to give in to fear and hatred, because meaning is never to be found in places where they exist.

Why Address Bad Driving

By

On March 18, 2016

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Social issues

Initially published as a column in NewsKamloops on Friday March 11, 2016. 

It happened on March 2nd and it almost slipped under the radar. A tractor-trailer that was carrying diesel fuel crashed on Highway 16 in Mt. Robson Provincial Park, spilling at least 20,000 litres of its load into the Fraser River and the surrounding area.

Now, 20,000 litres is not insignificant. Since the full load was 50,000 litres, your guess is as good as mine as to how much might’ve actually spilled after all. A lot of it dissipated below detectable levels 24 kilometers or so from the accident site, according to the BC Ministry of Environment quoted by a local newspaper.

That is bad news, if only the big media would’ve made it so. Not to sensationalize, not to create fear but to raise an important question regarding road safety and one of the dreadful consequences of poor driving.

The Fraser River is the longest river in British Columbia, one of the most productive salmon rivers in the world and the site of the largest Sockeye run in the world. Hardly the place that a spill will leave no trace.

In general, diesel sinks quickly and cold temperatures make the cleanup more troublesome. Our iconic fish have been challenged lately by issues related to climate change, such as low water levels and warmer than usual water temperatures, which make them susceptible to diseases and parasites. Nature is resilient, we know that, yet over 20,000 litres of diesel fuel is no small thing on top of everything else. Time will tell.

There’s only that much crying we can do over spilled diesel though once an accident has happened. Any environmental incident deserves attention, and this one deserves more than it got, yet today’s column will focus more on what caused it rather than its ill effects.

It is believed that speed and early morning slippery road conditions were the reason for the above accident. An inquiry is under way.

Speed is nothing new unfortunately. I mentioned speeding tractor trailers in previous column. I have seen many going over the speed limit on various highways, some even tailgating and changing lanes as if the vehicle was a sports car rather than a heavy truck.

That some crash occasionally and disaster ensues is sad but predictable. Then again, poor driving is not reserved to trucks alone.

Getting behind the wheel is a huge responsibility and anything that increases the risk of an accident has to become the subject of discussion among all of us who drive, because of what is at stake. We have to do more before the worst happens.

A closer to home example: Tuesday evening around 6pm found me about to step out on the crosswalk at the intersection of Lansdowne and 4th. The pedestrian sign shone bright so I checked for cars and then I started to cross. The first car turning left (incorrectly so into the far right lane of the one way street) that almost ran me over seemed about to slow down and allow me to cross but then it didn’t. It came really close, hence the ‘almost’ part. I am no slow walker, so it made me wonder about people who walk slower by default such as the elderly or parents with young children.

I darted forward to avoid the car but found myself in front of a second car turning left (at least turning into the correct lane) that … well, almost hit me. A bit of a bad joke if you ask me. Between the first driver turning incorrectly into the more distant lane and the second turning into the correct one, there was barely any room to run for my life. If you’re wondering about the required eye contact with the driver, the answer is yes for the first car. Not that it helped much.

Sobering indeed. I had a similar experience in broad daylight at Lansdowne and 6th two years ago. Sadly, I am hardly alone. Just this month two teenagers were hit while on a crossing on Westsyde Road, and if you check local news archives, many pedestrians had close encounters especially on Lansdowne and many ended up being struck.

Whatever the cause of poor driving is, consequences can be and often are horrifying, which is why the discussion cannot be postponed. Whether speed, distracted driving due to cell phones, or impaired driving due to tiredness, drug or alcohol consumption, accidents keep happening and we have to find a way to prevent them.

How do we address this? As pedestrians we need to educate ourselves and our children about safe crossing. That will lower the risk but it does not eliminate it completely.

What about when we are behind the wheel? Reading through many documents discussing the issue of road safety, suggestions range from education of drivers through all means necessary, to enforcing speed limits on the highways and within city limits, to having adequate consequences for those found guilty rather a mere slap on the wrist. Consequences could include revoking a person’s right to drive temporarily or permanently, depending on the degree of harm caused.

Statistics alone (see below), though not as updated as they should be, can add numbers to facts.

  • From 2004 to 2008, 13 percent of fatalities in Canada have been pedestrians and out of all of them, 33 percent were struck by a driver who had committed a traffic infraction prior to the crash.
  • According to Transport Canada, over 20 percent of fatalities that occurred from 2001 to 2005 involved heavy commercial trucks.

Bottom line: no one gets on the road with the intention of causing an accident that could injure or kill people, or cause irreparable damage, so reminders about what our responsibilities as drivers are should be all over the place. Safe driving makes for a safe world. We all want that.

What do you think would make for safer driving in Kamloops?

March Eight. Of Robins, Boys and Blades of Grass

By

On March 9, 2016

In Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

StopIt’s only fitting that the robin comes flying by the side of the car as I drive slowly after dropping off little boy for Forest School. It is March 8, and growing up meant Mother’s Day. No bells and whistles, no marketing campaigns or Hallmark cards, just carefully hand drawn cards, mostly with snowdrops because I loved to draw them and they matched the small bouquet in my hand.

The connection between the robin and my Mom was made shortly after her sudden passing almost ten years ago and it will never change. You could say I have a comfort bird. Well, I needed one.

So, the robin. I stop the car and step outside. I sit by the side of the dirt road close to the tree where the robin is. I listen a while, catch a burst of song that gets mixed in with the symphony pouring down from all the trees and realize that it’s the swiftness of it before it mixes with the others that makes it more precious and it’s all the sounds engulfing it that make it complete.

It’s March 8 and sunny.

Some years ago someone abruptly asked why I am attached to a relic of the communist regime. Ah, nothing like the political smears spreading over a day that politics should stay out of. The answer is in the renewal celebration surrounding me.

greenWhere I sit by the side of the road there’s fresh bold new blades of grass, so green they look surreal, each carrying gifts of morning dew. That’s what the day is about to me. Life.

Earlier in the car little boy made my heart dance and my eyes tear up. ‘Mom, you know mushrooms look fragile but they are not. They can break through concrete if they have to. Plants too…’ It is so, isn’t it?

You’re only as fragile as you believe yourself to be. If you let your instincts guide you, then you can break through barriers that you never thought you could break through.

And it’s not about whether you are fragile or not. We all are in some ways. Yet trading it completely for what’s perceived as strength alone is not an option either. True strength is tender-hearted and comes from packing both strength and fragility for the road ahead. That’s how you grow to see the human, not the deeds, celebrate their presence in your life and learn about courage.

That’s how you learn about worthiness. When you can see past the obvious, past of what is easy to see. You learn to appreciate those moments of solitude when you look in the mirror asking ‘where to from here?’ only to realize that by asking the question you have stood your ground and you did not hide the fragile bits. Yes, it takes courage to ask. And it takes courage to follow the road that comes without directions except for one: Trust yourself.

That’s why I celebrate motherhood today.

Today is when I think of the journey so far. The sea of memories lapping at the window of my motherhood hut, where inadequacies and victories lay together, amassed during a time that happens too fast.

Today I sit here by the side of the road and allow no hurry. I think of the boys, their boisterous presence at times and then again, their revealing of softer sides so often when they whisper their own inadequacies, their discoveries of things that tug at their hearts, the questions that often come with tears. Together we learn to see that we’re the same, bound by love. Sometimes, stepping on each other’s toes reveals that no dance is perfect and pain spares no one. clenching your teeth in resentment is the wrong path. Smile through tears. Be grateful.

It creates mindfulness.

Motherhood invites to that. I said yes a long time ago when my boys were born, and then more so after my Mom left. Waking up with less became determination to see more.

That’s why celebrating the day quietly by the side of the road makes all the sense. It’s not about giving the day a name because it’s not the day itself but the people who make it worthwhile. Hence the futility of pulling the politics curtain over it and burying it in righteousness.

all of itToday is not about politics but about finding the space and time to see. Today is about saying ‘Thank you’ to my Mom, remembering what vulnerability and strength look like, put them back in my satchel as I carry on with the journey and telling my boys:

‘Yes, I’m showing up every day for the most difficult job in the world.

Yes, there is always room for better but that’s why tomorrow was invented and that’s why we have hugs.

Yes, I go to the bottom many times and each time I push myself to the surface again, I take another deep breath and say ‘again!’ as if I am having the ride of my life. Because I am, and every moment of it is worthy it.

Because you are.’

The Day And All The Learning In It

By

On March 2, 2016

In Homeschooling, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

20160301_110631On Tuesdays we take it to the hills. It is Forest School day for the little guy, and most days find us on one of the hills around Kamloops. Yesterday we were Kenna Cartwright. Snow was coming down hard in big clumps.

The rubber boots I was wearing (and I usually never wear outside rainy days) didn’t help much in reminding me to appreciate the moment, as my toes went from cold to very cold to painfully cold soon after we started on the trail. Having the privilege to be seeing beauty on an ordinary morning, yet being stopped short by cold feet. The irony! And yes, tunnel vision, behaviour if you will – we all experience it at times and it rarely makes us proud.

The thing is, if you stick with it and its aftertaste long enough, it brings enough humbleness to be able to say, if willing, that going down the narrow road of rejecting the magic of the big picture for the short-lived moment of expressing bitterness, is simply a price too high to pay. You’d have to pay it a couple of times in order to learn though. Moments of grace? Hardly.

So there was mine, yesterday. Missing. Trailing through snowy forests, surrounded by children, red-cheeked and snow-sprinkled all over, all of them walking with small steps careful to not lose balance, slipping anyway and falling at times, picking up handfuls of snow to taste and being so immersed in the fresh white… I was there to see it all but grumbling inside for reasons too small to matter, too hard to let go of though in the moment, missing so much of it.

Frozen toes and work-related urgency sliced up the time in the woods even more. Stripes of joy were painted over by the thick paint of mental mumbling and grumbling, panic too that I will not be able to do what I had to do. Didn’t I say there was nothing gracious about it? It’s the truth. Second thoughts and hindsight regarding work were all too ready to pluck off everything that was worth keeping.

The moment I was in and I could not see, the wealth that comes with the understanding that every moment is as rich as you allow it to be, which I was forgetting.

The forest was beautiful, the kids were present with jolliness, tears too, they were telling stories and jokes and eating some more snow still after the game of hide-and-seek was done with and we were heading back. The forest I was in was actually hard to see for the trees of worry and immediate discomfort.

Mindfulness is never to be taken for granted. When I do, it’s like it was yesterday. Few things are so dramatic and urgent that they should be allowed to be more than they are – dark clouds on the sky, but not the sky itself. In fact, worry and panic never solve anything anyway.

There’s nothing to gain and everything to win from making the time you’re in worthwhile. Cliché it is, but true. It took me a drive home, laughter in the car as both me and little guy dripped melted snow all over, and a few extra bumps throughout the day to long for the time I should’ve seen the forest and I didn’t.

20160301_122920The moral of the story is…? Graciousness is not my strongest attribute. Nor is remembering to be mindful of the flitting moments of magic. There is hope though. Coming around to the place of seeing it as it should’ve been… Being human, aches and pains and grumbling included, is inescapable. Remembering that we are, as humans, privy to magic, is too easy to forget at times… that is though, what makes it all that much more precious.

Tuesday was learning day indeed. That it is not about being graceful after all, but truthful and willing… The journey continues.

So… Kindness

By

On February 22, 2016

In Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

‘Be the change you wish to see in the world.’ Mahatma Gandhi

Suns to giveThe boys and I used to play a game. If you could have one wish… Or three. What would you wish for? One of mine was always ‘that there is enough kindness in the world’. The boys would smile and tilt their heads.

Of all the things you could wish for, Mom? Of all. Of any. Just like that.

Kindness. It’s what we crave. Smiles and warmth; the touch of brightness that someone’s kindness brings forth and makes into a hug. The thing that’s often the hardest to give.

Not because we don’t want to, but because we’re often locked inside. Because somehow, somewhere, when we were just about opening our eyes to the world, we were met, every now and then, with a cold breeze rather than the warm one our hearts were primed for.

So we learned to hide the wish we wished for. Kindness. We learned to say ‘perhaps I am not worthy of it’… Then, an even colder breeze took ‘perhaps’ away and the certainty of unworthiness spread like an algae plume taking over a lake. Clear becomes opaque and troubled. We’ve all been there, we’ve all lingered a bit too long at times in that realm.

Kindness reverses it. It is always a few words away, a hug away, from wherever we are, whenever… It’s what we need the most of, it is what we often give or receive the least of.

I will always remember the last conversation I had with my Mom. It was kind and warm like an embrace. The last moments I had with my Dad were hugs and tears. Kindness and forgiveness became the ground for later understanding that without them every day is a burden. But each burden becomes a lesson. Each memory too.

I carry mine as you carry yours. We ought to remember the occasional unkindness too. Loud voices, storming away from people, seeking a refuge. Wanting to be at peace with the world and yourself, but running away from both. We all do it until we learn that until kindness comes from within, it can never happen for real…

The parting words to last us into the next hour, or the next day, or the rest of our life… are they going to just echoes of the stomping and the shadows of frowns?… The regret of having let go of kindness for a bit becomes a sharp bite and then a healing wound.

We learn kindness from understanding that we’re all fallible, all humbled by how easy it becomes to bring our hearts and minds to a new start. ‘Try again’ is a soft breeze that takes us sailing farther than anger and resentment ever could…

To be kind is a choice. One that has us open our eyes to a new day and say ‘I want to be kind’. One that has us look into ourselves and upon seeing all the broken bits, we take a deep breath and think that all that we are – broken bits included – deserves kindness. We walk on the path where others walked too, we see the wells of their steps filled by the same: joy and sadness, hope – lost and found again, will to live and love, desire to be listened to and understood, the need for kindness. We gain compassion for the other travelers when we stop to soothe our own aching feet.

To be kind is a choice that powers more than our face muscles to open into a smile. It is what makes us reach to those who need a word, a hug, or no sound at all, but a listening ear. It is what makes us forgive and ask for forgiveness. It is us be willing to show ourselves vulnerable. It is what makes us soar, tattered wings and all. It is what mends them…

To be kind is a choice that allows us to build instead of destroy and see instead of turning a blind eye. To be kind is to come to the realization that we are the measure of kindness and through what we give we can make someone’s world brighter. And just like that, kindness fills the heart of those who give it.

That’s why I wish for it when I’m asked. Not because I am always kind, but because I need to remember to be. Because I can choose.

Page 26 of 46

Previous

Next

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén