Day Twenty - You Are Beautiful and You Are Loved

At a recent trade show, I noticed a young woman in a sea of people that was terribly disfigured.  Her face was swollen and her features were droopy.  Her skin had mottled, purple marks and I assumed this was from perhaps a birth defect.  Instantly I felt pity for her and couldn't tear my eyes away from her.  I watched her for a few minutes and saw her keep her head low and try to hide herself in the crowd.  I was irritated with myself because I couldn't stop staring and I was also disappointed that I felt pity because I was fairly certain that this woman did not want pity from people--at least I wouldn't if it was me.  I was also watching the people who came into contact with her.  They would stare, appear shocked, then hastily turn away.  No one spoke to her and she didn't talk to anyone either.  Just as I was analyzing the situation and uttering a silent prayer for her, she looked up and caught my eye.  I did the same thing everyone else did--I looked away and then was instantly ashamed of myself.  I couldn't bear it any longer; I knew I had to say something.  I pushed my way through a few people and came right up beside the disfigured woman.  When I got closer, I realized she was very young.  I touched her on the shoulder and she turned to me.  I forced myself to look at her and hold her gaze and I said, "You are beautiful, and you are loved."  There was an awkward few seconds, but slowly she formed what I interpreted as a smile (it was difficult to know because her features were distorted) but then, unmistakably, I saw something in her eyes.  There was no mistaking that she was smiling with her eyes.  She uttered an awkward "thank you" then turned and walked away.  I felt she didn't believe me, but as she moved on, she turned to look at me over her shoulder and then - there was no doubting it this time - she smiled.  A wide, beautiful, genuine smile.

I don't know what came over me or why I was so bold to do that--it could have been horrible and I knew that I was risking making her even more uncomfortable, but I imagined that this girl had spent a lifetime avoiding stares, comments, and keeping a distance from other humans.  I had the urge to reach out to her and remind her that beauty is deep inside--we are created in God's likeness and image so she must be beautiful and as God's creation, she most certainly was loved!

"Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work." ~ Mother Teresa 

Day Nineteen - The Miracle of Benjamin

It's been so long since I've written and my little vow to perform an act of random kindness and blog about it every day has gone out the window!  But today, I received a note from a stranger who read my blog and I realized that I need to keep going.  Maybe I can't write every day, but that doesn't stop me from seeking out ways to shower others with simple, loving acts.  So, I've jotted down notes over the past couple of months and I must get back to the business of "spreading the love!"

A short while ago, I went on a woman's retreat where I was blessed with being God's pawn in the making of a miracle!  Remarkable, you might say--but I believe that He uses all of us constantly to do His work--we just need to be open to accepting His graces and doing His will.

First let me rewind to last Summer when our Pastor asked all of the parishioners to "spiritually adopt" an unborn child.  The idea was for each person in our very large congregation to pray for just one baby for a period of nine months in the hope that their prayers would save that baby from being aborted.  He passed out little prayer cards and asked each of us to pick a name and write that baby's name on the card and pray for that child every day.  If we named our baby, it would really feel like we were praying for an individual instead of just a general prayer tossed in the direction of the unborn. I was at church with my son and when I fished around for a pen in my purse and wrote down a name on the card, he gave me a puzzled look and said, "Who is Benjamin?"  That is the name I put down on my prayer card.  I don't know why I chose a boy and I don't know why I picked the name Benjamin--I don't even know any "Benjamins" but that is the name that God placed on my heart and I wrote it down.

I taped my little prayer card to the front of my coffee maker and every morning I prayed for little Benjamin while I waited for my coffee to perk.  I prayed that his mother would be strong and not resort to aborting her baby.  I prayed that God would send her the mercy and support she would need to help her carry Benjamin to full term.  I prayed that Benjamin would be born into a family that would love and want him and that his birth would bring great happiness to his parents and family or to an adopted family.  After a few weeks of praying every morning, I began to wonder if one day Benjamin would know that some random stranger prayed for his life.  I even asked God if one day in heaven, maybe Benjamin would come up to me and say, "hey, you prayed for me to be born and I had a wonderful life."  I never doubted that he would be born, but I did long to know if I would ever find out what happened to him.  Giving a name to this baby made it very personal to me and I grew to love Benjamin and loved praying for him.  On Mother's Day, our church celebrated the "births" of all the babies that were spiritually adopted nine months earlier and it was wonderful to think that thousands of souls were probably saved through our collective prayers.

Now . . . fast forward to my retreat I mentioned earlier.  On the first night of the retreat, this amazing group of 30 or so women gathered to start our journey together and spent time getting to know one another.  I sat next to a beautiful young woman and we struck up a conversation with the usual small talk . . . "Where are you from?  What do you do?  How many children do you have?"  We seemed connected in so many ways that we spent a great deal of time talking to one another.  Before long, we started to share some very personal things with each other--mostly because we both had some common ground and also because we sensed trust and safety in confiding with one another.  She told me she recently had a difficult time with her 18-year old son and I remember being shocked because she seemed so young herself.  She told me that she was also a grandmother--sort of.  Her son got a girl pregnant the past year and they had an unfathomable time with the two teenagers deciding what they would do about it.  In the end, the couple decided to have the baby and give it up for adoption.  I asked my new friend if this was difficult for her; knowing that she had a grandchild out there but she explained that as a family they all thought that this was the best possible decision for the baby.  After all, her son and his girlfriend were still in high school and knew they could not raise a child and there were so many deserving families that longed to adopt.  Her son and girlfriend did consider abortion, but knew that it was wrong and that this baby deserved a chance at life.  She told me she was extremely anxious and worried when the baby was born because she wasn't sure she could go through with the adoption, however she told me that God placed a band-aid on all of their hearts that day because she was able to hold the baby when it was born, but was given the grace to know that they were making the right choice.  It was a touching story and I was amazed that she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was God's plan for them and for the baby.  She was teary-eyed and wistful, but I could tell that she believed it was for the best.  My heart ached for what she must have gone through and I admired her courage.  Just in passing, I asked her the gender of the baby.  "It was a boy," she said, "and we were able to name him for the adoptive parents.  We named him Benjamin."

Benjamin!  It was MY Benjamin, I just knew it.  My new friend cocked her head and asked me, "Why do you look so shocked?"  I burst into tears and shared with her my story of how I prayed for an unknown baby I named Benjamin.  At that point, she too knew that I had been praying for her Benjamin!  God had given me an amazing gift that evening--I saw first hand the power of his love and mercy.  He saw to it that Benjamin made it into this world and made certain that he was born into the right family.  Then He provided a person to personally pray for Benjamin and after all of that, He still gave me the gift of knowing what happened to my little guy!  Needless to say, the tears were flowing that night and all of the other women at the retreat were stunned to see the two of us who had just met crying and hugging.  A miracle brought us together as friends and now she and I both know that God has an amazing plan for little Benjamin!

"The miracle is not that we do this work, but that we are happy to do it."    ~Mother Teresa

Day Eighteen - TSA & Zagnut

Today was a travel day for me.  As much as I love to go to different cities and satiate my wanderlust, I find the travel process tedious and angst-filled.  But I guess like all good things, we have to endure a little of the bitter first.  I was pushing my time limit by getting to the airport a little late and I didn't anticipate the longer than usual lines at security.  This is a stressful process even when you aren't running late but today the air in the security arena was charged with irritability. I felt myself getting stressed and anxious but took a few deep breaths and resolved myself to the fact that there was nothing I could do but wait.  I inched through the line and finally made my way to the screening area and dutifully removed my belt, jewelry, shoes, and laptop and set them on the conveyor belt.  Feeling confident that I was almost at the end of the process, I proceeded through the metal detector and "BEEP."  Darn it - I almost got through.  The TSA officer asked me to step aside into a glass holding room for a full body screening.  Just great.  Boarding for my flight had already started and I was still stuck in security.  Again, I took a deep breath and tried to relax; knowing that getting frustrated was not going to help anything.  Minutes passed and an officer finally came to check me for traces of explosive powder and rifle through my bags.  Three officers were checking me and they all were gruff and defensive.  I patiently waited and didn't say anything.  When they were finished, one of the officers shoved my things toward me and said I was 'free' to go.  For some reason, this statement bothered me but I swallowed hard and tried to put myself in his position.  These officers work in a thankless job with angry and frustrated travelers all day.  It is mundane work but unfortunately has to be done.  It was not these officers' fault that I was running late--it was my own.  As I gathered my things, I looked directly at the officer and he seemed braced for me to blast him with ingratitude.  Instead, I said, "I appreciate the job that you do."  The officer looked stunned.  There was an awkward few moments of silence while he absorbed what I just said and then he told me, "We don't hear that very often."  "Well, you should, " I said.  "I appreciate you."  I rushed away feeling elated.  I might miss my flight, but I knew that I made that officer feel good for a brief moment.  After all, they are working to save our lives and protect our airlines; keeping them free from all the hazards that unfortunately have become obstacles to all air travelers.
     Thankfully when I made it to my gate, the flight was delayed and I could take a few minutes to grab a  magazine and compose myself.  I was still on a "kindness high" as I got in line at a little kiosk and found what I was looking for and got in line to pay.
Behind me was an older gentlemen eyeing the candy bars.  He said to me, "I don't need a candy bar, do I?"  I smiled, turned and answered, "Of course you do!"  He chuckled at me and said, "No I don't" and at that moment he spied a Zagnut bar lined up neatly with the large assortment of other candies.  "Oh my gosh" he said, "a Zagnut bar!  I haven't seen one of those in years!  I thought they quit making them."  I replied, "well then, that settles it.  You need a candy bar!" He went on to nostalgically tell me that Zagnuts were originally made by the Clark company in Pittsburgh where he grew up.  As a boy, he rode his bike by the factory every day.  He was so sweet and I could tell the Zagnut brought back pleasant memories for him.  When it was my turn to pay, the gentleman turned to the woman behind me and began explaining about his Zagnut bar.  The cashier overheard the whole conversation and both of us were tickled by his excitement.  As I paid for my magazine, I quietly told the cashier to include his candy bar.  He seemed a little surprised, but then I could tell that he really liked the idea.  After I paid, I turned around to the gentleman who was still telling his story and said, "enjoy the Zagnut."  He smiled and waved as I ran off into the crowd at the gate.  I glanced back for a moment and saw him trying to pay for his candy bar and the cashier must have just told him I bought it for him because he glanced around, looking a little bewildered.  My heart felt full as I watched the puzzled look on his face turn into a giant smile and he turned to look for me in the crowd.  I ducked away to my gate, smiling broadly and knowing I had made someone happy for the second time today.  I guess he will be telling the story later, but more importantly, I hope he passes the kindness forward.  Judging by my brief encounter with him, I'm sure he will!
"Kind words are short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless."
~ Mother Teresa

Day Seventeen - Abbracci Gratis

I received this video today and almost deleted it before I took the time to watch it.  I'm so glad I didn't.  Take a moment to watch it now . . . .

Okay, do you have tears welling up in your eyes like I did when I watched it (all three times)?  I realized this was the ultimate ARK.  I googled the YouTube video and found dozens of similar videos in many different countries.  What better way to express what I have been trying spread?  It is amazing to watch how people almost avoid the 'free huggers' at first, but eventually that first person gives in and then there is a ground swelling of love and friendship that slowly starts and then crescendos with so much intensity that it made me want to get out my markers and make a "free hugs" sign!  It is so RANDOM!  That's what I love about it.

The definition of a hug is:
     1. To clasp or hold closely, especially in the arms, as in affection; embrace.
     2.  To hold steadfastly; cherish
     3.  To stay close to

This video made me think of the human desire to be touched or held.  It reminded me of all the times that I hugged my children to make them feel better or safer or loved.  And all the times I ached for a hug myself so I could be reassured that everything was going to be all right.  Imagine how many lives were effected in that one day by strangers who just felt the world needed a {hug}.  Imagine being at your lowest point, and then someone is standing before you offering a free hug--no strings attached.  These people are my heroes - Acts of Random Kindness--it doesn't get any better than this!

"For one moment our lives met, our souls touched."  ~ Oscar Wilde

Day Sixteen - Tablecloth & Linen Napkins

A very wise group of women at a recent retreat I attended taught me the importance of making things special for the people you love.  Your family and friends are worth the extra effort of laying down a tablecloth and using your "good" dishes and glasses.  Light some candles.  Use cloth napkins.  Put some flowers in a vase.

We have become a world filled with very busy people.  Everything is designed around instant gratification, multi-tasking, routinely rushing through our day as quickly and easily as possible so we save valuable minutes in order to do God knows what else.  It's exhausting.  Why do we do it--so we can find ways to cram even more activity into our busy lives?  At the end of the day are we every really satisfied at what we've done or are we constantly stressed because we haven't truly accomplished a thing?  And so our hectic lives become a series of blurry and inconsequential events that never really matter in the long run.

Tonight, I set the table for my family.  No paper plates, no standing around the food spread out buffet style and wolfing it down before we even sit.  I used my good dishes.  I lit some candles.  We ate together and talked and shared our day.  We used to do that when my children were younger.  It was the most precious time of day for me.  Somehow we got so busy that our family time got squeezed out of the daily schedule to make room for some other insignificant event.  But tonight was wonderful!  No one really noticed the linens or the candles (at least they didn't say anything) but the entire mood around our dinner table changed and in fact, everyone lingered tonight--staying longer than usual to enjoy the experience that had become a scarcity in our home.

My friends at the retreat were right.  My extra effort made a difference to our family this night and it all started as I lovingly got out my tablecloth and spread it across the table . . . and perhaps I brought them all back to a place of peace, security, happiness and love.  A place that we seemed to have left behind but thankfully we have found once again.

"Go home and love your family."  ~ Mother Teresa

Day Fifteen - Food For Thought

We have all seen the panhandlers on the side of the road--you know the ones I'm talking about.  Those same ones you try not to make eye contact with when you pull up beside them at a stop light holding up their cardboard signs begging for food or work.  I'm guilty of avoiding them too.  I try to justify it to myself . . . I think, "if I give them money, they are just going to go get drunk."  I've even heard the argument that the beggars with their cardboard signs and filthy clothes make immense amounts of money (tax free) each year and it is more advantageous for them to beg than to work. This way of thinking is crap and deep down, I think we all know it.  Who are we to judge and decide who is worthy of our generosity and charity?  Who does not have a spare handful of change--tiny amounts that you will never miss?  How can we turn a blind eye to a sad and lonely HUMAN being on the side of the road who must resort to the humiliating act of begging?  I can't do it.  Even if they do go buy a six-pack with the money, what difference does that make in my life?  The other important question is what unspeakable thing could have happened to that person to reduce them to live and scrounge on the streets?  I know some of you may be thinking, "well, they chose that life through the choices they've made."  Again, I ask you . . . who are we to judge?

Many days, I drive by a street corner downtown where the same man stands in the same spot with a tattered sign and filthy clothes.  He always wears the same clothes and his hair and beard are long, grey and unkempt.  He looks like a dirty version of God to me.  You know--the image of God in long white robes with flowing white hair, standing on the top of a mountain surveying his people.  At least that's the image I have.  Sometimes I give him a few bucks, sometimes the light is green and I can get by without having to stop.  Either way, I feel sorrow, pity and guilt.  The guilt comes from the fact that I am driving my Lexus SUV in my designer duds while this man clearly lives at or below poverty level and I'm guessing by the looks of him, he sleeps in an area where a large community of homeless people congregate below one of the highway underpasses in the area.

But today was different . . . today I had a car full of groceries and a beautiful, warm, whole roasted chicken in a bag on the front seat of my car.  It was going to be dinner for my family tonight - something easy so I wouldn't have to cook.  As I was approaching the corner and saw the man in the distance, I first starting thinking of digging in my wallet but the smell of the chicken wafting through the car gave me an idea.  When I pulled up to the corner, I reached over and grabbed the chicken and handed it to the man's waiting outstretched hands.  At first he looked a little surprised--I mean, it is a bit comical if you visualize it, but after a second he realized that he had a hot meal.  Our eyes met and he was filled with gratitude.  The light changed to green and as I drove off, he said, "God bless you."  I will never forget the cloudy blue eyes as they smiled in genuine thankfulness.  "No, I whispered to myself . . . God bless YOU."

"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat."  ~ Mother Teresa 

Day Fourteen - Where is The Love?

Today I decided to look for love in the unusual and strange places it hides at times.  I'm not talking about the 'butterfly, heart pounding out of your chest, silly gaga' kind of love.  I'm talking about the unexpected and spontaneous love that is innate in all of us {I believe}, even when we think that nobody gives a damn about anyone anymore.  I searched for the unconditional, transcendental love that we are all capable of but seem to forget that we possess the ability.

First, I saw love in church yesterday when a husband reached over and took his crying baby from his wife and quickly walked out of the mass so as not to disturb anyone.  True, you may say that is normal and that is what he should have done, but what I witnessed was something much deeper.  He gently put his hand on her lower back and as she turned to him, the intimate look in his eyes and the devoted smile on his lips said more than words could ever express.  His eyes said, "you are so stressed my darling, let me take the baby so you can pray."  And her lovely glance back at him as she handed over the baby spoke volumes of relief, gratitude and safety in the knowledge that someone had her back.  Again, as I usually do, I felt I had intruded on a very private moment, but I am so glad I saw it.  That was love.

Next, I watched what appeared to be a patient granddaughter helping her elderly grandparents out of the car and into the frozen yogurt shop where I sat enjoying my Sunday afternoon treat!  As most of us know, it takes enormous patience to go through all of the steps necessary to help an elderly person--much like caring for a young baby or toddler.  I watched her as she aided in getting the walker out of the trunk for her grandmother and gave her a gentle boost to get her out of the car safely.  She kindly and graciously listened to her grandfather direct her through the task.  It was apparent that he was hard of hearing and while most of us would be annoyed or embarrassed by the loud discussion--she was the opposite.  Tolerant, unflappable, and gracious.  I had so much admiration for her and it made me long for my own grandparents who both passed away in the last 24 months.  Not once through the whole process did this young woman ever show signs of weariness or distress.  Once in the yogurt shop, she did everything for them as they chose their flavors and toppings and even choosing a seat was a tedious ordeal, but she never lost her smile or gentle tone.  I realized at that moment that this was not a chore for her.  This was unconditional, genuine love for these two people and she was truly happy to do it.  As they enjoyed their yogurt and the beautiful day, I saw love again.

Random act of kindness for someone else?  Not really.  I think I did something kind for myself today.  I made myself remember that people do have goodness and merit and from this day on, that is the truth I will seek from others.

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."
~ Mother Teresa