Tag Archives: kindness

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Sunday Sweetness–A Teapot on a Rainy Day

Sunday Sweetness is all about the quiet moments, the gentle times, that make life sweeter.  Today, click on this teapot to read a sweet story about a kind man who used a teapot in an act of kindness.  Enjoy!

 

blue-transferware-teapot-604x402

 


encouragement

Safety, and Pins

1052164_10200887414020653_139717713_oSunday, March 27, 2011 was an exceptionally cold and bitter day in Athens.  I remember it vividly–that was the day a kind stranger gave me this large gold safety pin.  I rediscovered it this weekend in my car’s console.

G and I drove the kids up to Broad Street that afternoon and parked in an empty bank parking lot.  Carlos was just 3 months old.  I swaddled him in the Moby wrap then buckled my coat over both of us.  We walked up to the grassy verge of the road and waited.  Hundreds of people waited along with us, everyone whispering and looking east to the top of the hill.  Vivi was bundled in a coat and hat, but the cold wind cut right through them.  She whined about the cold.  I held her close to my leg and rubbed her back.  We waited.

“Mommy?  Where is the sad parade?”

Earlier that week, Senior Officer Elmer “Buddy” Christian had been murdered in the line of duty.  Vivi heard us discussing it and I had to explain to her what had happened.  I stuck to the basics:  a police officer died when a bad man shot him with a gun.  When we decided to take the family to the funeral procession, I explained what she could expect to see.  People stand quietly and watch the hearse and the police cars go by to say “thank you” to officers who help us stay safe.  Her clever mind turned those concepts into “sad parade.”

buddy christian“It will be along in a little while.”  G took her back to the car to wait.  But she wanted to see the road herself.  The view was blocked as more and more people came to pay respects by the side of the highway.  Vivi took the baby blanket from the car and wrapped it around herself so that she could come back out in the cold and the quiet.

We waited.  There wasn’t much talking.  Quiet minutes crept by.  I cried as Carlos slept against my heartbeat.  Every time Vivi wiggled, the blanket slipped off her shoulders.  I tried tying it around her neck but it was too short.  I tried holding her and the blanket still but she grew frustrated.  I was growing tired myself and couldn’t think of a way to make it work–paying respects while keeping an infant and a three year old warm in that brutal cold.

“Would this help?”  A small, silver-haired woman who had been standing next to us offered me this large safety pin from her purse.  Her purse was one of those magically sturdy Grandma purses that yield whatever a moment might need.  We both breathed a sigh of relief that stopped just before a laugh.  I tucked the blanket around Vivi’s neck and the kind stranger pinned it closed.  She gripped Vivi gently by the shoulders and whispered, “A magic cape for you!”

The sad parade rolled by.  We watched in silence for an hour.  We turned and went home.  I unpinned the blanket before putting Vivi in her car seat.  I stowed the very useful safety pin in the console and it waited there until this weekend.

That summer of 2011, Vivi took swimming lessons at the Y.  One little blonde girl in her age group looked very familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her.  It came to me later, when her mother came into the pool area to pick her up–she was Officer Christian’s daughter, the same age as my girl.

The next day, I was the only mom tromping through the dressing room with the girls as they collected their towels and shoes after lessons.  One girl couldn’t find her flip flops.  Her.  I called to her, “Callie?  Your shoes are right over here honey.”  I pointed to them and she smiled and said, “Thanks!”  I patted her head in blessing as she walked by.

She looked at me funny because I had said her name.  For a split second, she looked like she was trying to place me.  She knew I wasn’t a family friend.  Then she paused and I think the knowledge flickered across her face–that reason why strangers know her.  So many people know her name and her father’s name.  I hope it’s the reason that people are kind to her for the rest of her life.  Why we all want to keep her and her little brother safe.

The Teapot On the Floor

small-delft-tulip-teapot-lgI was considering today the word “consideration.”  It can mean so many things. Careful thought, given over time.  Maybe it means “a fact or a motive taken into account in deciding or judging something.”  Something for your consideration.

Being considerate to each other–kindness.  Giving careful thought to something–much consideration.

Here’s another story from that rainy vacation in Maine.  Our room was in the East Lodge, upstairs (because we were spry enough to climb the steep and narrow stairs).  The other guest room in the East Lodge, on the main floor was occupied that week by a quiet elderly couple from Boston.

On a drippy afternoon, I went down to the parlor to find a book from the “take one/leave one” shelf.  As I walked across the large room, a drip of rain plunked on my head.  I stopped to investigate.  Another and another and another…a leak in the ceiling.  I looked around for something to catch the water and protect the rug until I could tell the owners about the situation.  The only container available was a little Delftware teapot on the mantle.  I took the lid off and positioned the teapot under the drip.  Plink, plink, plunk.

I went upstairs to get my boots on so I could walk over to the office…no phones in the East Lodge.  When I came in the room, Richard stirred from his nap and asked what I was doing.  I told him about the drip and the teapot then I went on my way.

Well, a while later when I made it back to the East Lodge from my errand…the teapot had been moved.  It was still positioned under the drip from the ceiling, but it rested atop a small side table.  OK….

Richard rolled over and smiled at me when I came through the door of our room.  I asked him if he had been downstairs and he answered,  “Yeah, I was worried that the older couple in the room below us might not see that little teapot in the middle of the rug, so I put it on the table.  They won’t trip over it now.”

Consideration was one of his dearest qualities.  He gave much careful thought to situations and solutions.  He took the time to be considerate of others and their needs.

We did get to enjoy one pretty day near the end of that rainy week, when we got to take our little boat out of Linekin Bay and sail around the point into Booth Bay Harbor.  And it just so happened to be the day that a Tall Ship Regatta was moored there.  While huddled low in the boat (I never could trust the lurch of the boat and spent most of my sailing time pressed as close to the hull as I could), Richard and our instructor took our little boat in and out among the three-masted great ladies.  Even if I was barely peeking over the side of the boat, my heart filled to bursting, like a sail catching the wind.  I felt like a mouse in a teacup, sneaking into the ball.

“You Keep Going”

It’s turned into “Spencer Week” here on Baddest Mother Ever.  That’s the cool thing about writing my own blog–I never know on Monday where I will have written to by Friday.

One of his friends told the story of a time Spencer brought an actual Tony Award to work.  He went from office to office and had each of his coworkers hold the award…so that they could then hand it back to him and he could practice reaching out for it and cradling it while he said “Thank you!”

Thank you, bright boy, for these words you left with us.  Click on the photo to hear Spencer’s own words about what it’s all about.
Spencer Interview

This next clip is from the memorial service.  It includes the above footage of Spencer’s interview in the documentary followed by an emotional performance by Kathryn Kitt of her brother Tom’s song “I Miss the Mountains.”  The song is from the Tony Award winning musical “Next to Normal.”  It’s sung by a woman who’s living a “normal” life thanks to mental health medications, but she misses the highs and lows of her old life.

But I miss the mountains
I miss the dizzy heights
All the manic magic days
And the dark depressing nights
I miss the mountains
I miss the highs and lows
All the climbing, all the falling
All the while the wild wind blows
Stinging you with snow
And soaking you with rain
I miss the mountains
I miss the pain
 

As Kathryn sings, a photo montage of Spencer’s life plays in the background.  I must have been sitting by the sound guy because I can hear myself laugh at a couple of points.  A couple of sobs, too.

Spencer Cox – A Celebration of Life – Kathryn Kitt Accompanied by Tom Kitt from LIPTV 5 on Vimeo.

Keep Looking

gold eggAt least once in our lives, we all deserve to find the golden egg.  Whatever it is for you–a place of peace, a true friend, a story to tell, a community, forgiveness, love, sobriety, calm, true north, delight–I hope you find the golden egg.  If you don’t find it today, keep looking.

Back when I was the spinster aunt, I volunteered to orchestrate an egg hunt for the kids.  The first year, when it was just Jackson, it was easy–we hid the same 12 eggs for an hour.  Every time he toddled over with one, we’d sling it back in the grass as soon as he turned his back.  He’d find it again with just as much delight as the first time.

One year, I did a hunt for Grant and Jake when their family invited me to the mountains for Easter weekend.  Their mom asked me not to go crazy with the candy, so I filled their eggs with coins…they walked away with a low-fat, sugar free $50!

Once you own 200+ plastic eggs, you get to do the egg hunt every year.  I love doing it.  Nana and Papa have a magical yard (that comes from the “magic” of 25+ years of labor) filled with hidey holes, lush grass and blooming fruit trees.  Every summer, Daddy tills up a couple of especially well-hidden eggs when he’s putting in the garden!

As the boys grew older, I decided that EVERYONE deserved to find a gold egg so I bought six.  The rule is, you can only find ONE gold egg, even if you stumble on more than one.  This tradition led to one of my favorite Easter stories a few years ago.

We had already done an easy hunt in the vegetable garden for the little kids.  Then it was time for the five older kids to hunt in the backyard.  The parents fanned out to hide the eggs and I hid five gold eggs in really hard to find places.  The big kids tore through the yard, filling their baskets with loot.  Jackson struck gold first.  Then Grant.  Then Victoria.  Then Chase.  The eggs were dwindling out and everyone had found a gold one except for Jake, the youngest of the older kids.  We hunted and hunted and hunted.  For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the fifth hiding place.  Poor Jake seemed sad and left out and I hated that for him.  I know what it’s like to be the youngest and I wanted him to find that gold egg.

I was searching in the azaleas behind the pump house in a vain attempt to find that stupid gold egg.  Now, this next part will sound silly but some of you may understand.  When I need a little supernatural boost, I sometimes call on Richard’s spirit (or my Grandmother Eunice or my Pop or any other who might be looking over my shoulder).  So I mumbled under my breath, “Richard, I could use a little help finding this egg.  Please?”

A couple of minutes later, Jake shouts, “I found it!!!”  There he was, holding high a gold egg in a spot where I hadn’t hidden one.  He was BEAMING!  I was gobsmacked.  Where had that egg come from???

Then Jackson and Chase sidled up with big grins on their preteen faces.  Chase whispered, “We took one of our eggs and hid it so Jake could find it.”

I don’t remember if Nana and Papa ever found that fifth gold egg.   I do know that we all found what we were looking for.  Jake got his golden egg.  Jackson and Chase got the chance to do a kindness.  I got to see two sweet boys turn into generous young men.