We received an overwhelming response to our Dalai Lama Kindness contest. It was almost impossible to discern the “best” tales of compassion—as several readers pointed out, all acts of kindness are blessed, precious things. But we managed to select 20 responses that moved us to tears or joy and seemed to capture the message of selfless compassion the Dalai Lama exemplifies—though plenty of others did as well.
Here are the “winning” entries below. Their authors have been contacted. Not to be too cheezy, but we feel like everyone won–we certainly feel grateful for being able to read all these amazing tales of kindness. And for you sharing them.
To share more, we invite you to check out new, our soon-to-launch community site. We’ll have a Dalai Lama page where you can talk more about your experiences with kindness and/or His Holiness. Sign up here (it’s free) to get involved.
Thank you.
If you didn’t win, you can still buy tickets here: Radio City Music Hall
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The eldest son at home is normally expected to be the role model for younger siblings. But there have been many instances where I have been humbled by what my younger brother has done; and he has become my beacon to kindness. One such instance happened a few years ago.
Jason, just out of college and not yet on a wage came to visit me. After spending the day at my place, I went with him to drop him off at the train station. We came upon this mad beggar with no clothes who was huddled beside a car. Such a site is not uncommon in India, and most of us Indians tune-out the poverty which permeats all spheres of life in India. We/I, turn a blind eye to their suffering consoling ourself/myself that there are so many of them, and there is only so much that we can do. Jason stopped, and removed his own shirt to cover him. Though there were no shops close by we managed to purchase a small cloth to wrap around his waist.
Money was no good to him, so we bought him fruits and some bread. Hoping that we had done our best for the moment, we carried on our way. I did not see that man ever again. But the incident always brings tears to my eyes when I think of it. It helped me re-connect with my inner self, and what it is be be truly human; of what humanity needs to be… I thank my brother for that.
Posted by: Juvan | October 8, 2007 8:02 AM
One of the most profound acts of kindness that I have ever witnessed occurred about a year and a half ago in the elementary school where I teach. Over one weekend in January, people had broken into our school and trashed and vandalized various areas, including my classroom. Having had my car broken into already a few weeks earlier, and having dealt with the usual challenges that come with teaching in an underfunded urban school in a disadvantaged area, I was at my breaking point.
That morning when I discovered what had happened, I felt like giving up, and in the meantime, had to make quick decisions about where to take my students for the day. They would have been devastated if they had seen the chaos in which the room had been left. Mr. S., a fellow teacher in our part of the building, offered to share his classroom with us for the day, but I didn’t want to trouble him, and we decided to go to the library and make ourselves comfortable at a few tables. Unbeknownst to us, Mr. S. had bigger plans besides offering us space in his room.
After about an hour and a half, Mr. S. and his students came to us, with brooms and dustpans in hand, and asked us to come back upstairs for a surprise. They giggled with excitement as they led my students and me, completely curious but still discouraged by what had happened over the weekend, back to our classroom. As we entered, we couldn’t believe our eyes: The bookcases that had been tipped over were turned right-side up again… The papers and objects that had been strewn about the floor were arranged in neat piles on top of the table, and the desks and chairs that had been tipped over were returned to their proper positions. We could do nothing but stand in awe at this unexpected and generous act of kindness. Mr. S. and his students beamed with joy just to know that they had helped us, and they had expected nothing in return. We all exchanged hugs and laughter, and we were deeply grateful to Mr. S. and his class for taking time out of their schedule to selflessly help us get back on our feet again and restore some of our optimism.
This was the most profound and sincere act of kindness that I have witnessed. I hope that it continues to serve all of us who were present that day as an example of how kindness brings joy to both the recipients and the givers.
Posted by: Amy P. | October 8, 2007 1:04 AM
I RECENTLY HAD TO RELOCATE BACK TO NY AFTER LOSING MY HOME IN HURRICANE KATRINA. I MOVED DOWN SOUTH TO BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI TO BE CLOSER TO MY FAMILY IN 1999. IT WAS A STRUGGLE FOR A WHILE THEN I GOT A GOOD JOB AND WAS OK. MY FAMILY DOWN SOUTH IS VERY SUPPORTIVE.I REALLY DID NOT WANT TO COME BACK TO NY BUT GOD WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS .
I WINDED UP COMING BACK TO THE TOWN I GREW UP IN. AFTER LOSING EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER OWNED ,I WAS BLESSES BY A UNBELIEVABLE ACT OF KINDNESS ,NOT BY MY FAMILY NOT BY MY GOVERNMENT BUT BY A STRANGER. ONE DAY I TOOK THE BUS WITH MY LAST 2.00$ ON MY WAY TO A JOB INTERVIEW THE BUS DRIVER GAVE ME 40$ SO I COULD EAT. I WAS EMBARRASSED AND AT FIRST DID NOT WANT TO TAKE IT. BUT I DID . I HAVE A SMALL USED CAR NOW SO I DONT TAKE THE BUS, ANY MORE BUT I HAVE ASKED FOR THAT SPECIFIC BUSDRIVER SO I COULD PAY HER BACK BUT NO ONE SEEMS TO KNOW HER……ANYWAY WHEN YOU THINK THERE IS NO KINDNESS LEFT IN THE WORLD THE HUMAN RACE SURPRISES YOU!!!
I AM STILL STUGGLING BUT I KNOW I MUST HELP PEOPLE WHO HAVE SUFFERED LIKE ME OR WHO ARE STILL SUFFERING…MATERIAL THINGS DONT’T REALLY MATTER TO ME MUCH ANYMORE…..ITS NOT WHAT TRUE HAPPINESS REALLY IS……..MY DREAM IS TO SEE THE DALI LAMA IT WOULD BE A DREAM COME TRUE……
Posted by: DIANE MARTINEZ | October 9, 2007 7:30 PM
A few years ago, I was battling with compulsive eating. I was in college and gained 20 pounds within a very short amount of time. I was too afraid to get help because I did not want to be considered weak; I wanted to conquer the problem myself. Looking back, I thought I looked hopeless and weak to the other students.
At the end of the semester, on the last day of one of my classes, a student came up to me and said, “I’ve been wanting to tell you all semester how beautiful you are.” I could tell by his eyes that he was being sincere; he was not joking or being sarcastic. His simple and honest comment meant so much to me. I know I wasn’t physically attractive at the time, but he saw something inside of me and I would love to find him again to let him know how deeply he touched me. I currently have self control and am now back to a healthy weight, and I know that his comment helped me to realize my capibilities and potential.
Posted by: Stephanie Quinn | October 7, 2007 9:18 PM
This is a simple story, but at that very moment, it was the kindest thing a person could have done for me. I just had surgery and was lying on a stretcher in the recovery room. I felt so cold that I couldn’t stop shaking. Most of the busy staff walked by me, or gave me another blanket. Out of nowhere, a nurse placed two bags of IV fluid that she had warmed in hot water, under my blankets, on me. It was one of the most comforting, soothing, calming feelings I’ve ever had. She never said a word, and she walked away.
I never saw her again, but I have never forgotten her, even 30 years later. She saw someone’s distress and provided comfort, without any expectations for herself, not even hearing a “thank you,” since I didn’t even have time to say it before she was gone. This was a pure act of kindness for which I am still grateful today.
Posted by: Donna | October 7, 2007 10:25 AM
I was driving from Philadelphia to Rye, NY, to take my acupuncture boards for the second time. I took my husband’s car, which was in better shape than mine. At that time, I did not have a cell phone. When I got to the Tappan Zee Bridge, the traffic was stopped for quite a while. My car broke down and I was in the middle lane of traffic. I got out of my car, started to walk to the car behind me to see if I could borrow a cellphone; the driver intuited my need and handed me the phone, saying, “Call your husband or whoever you need.” I thanked her, made a call to the AAA for help, and then realized they’d never be able to reach me.
So I went to a nearby truckdriver and explained my plight. He got out of his car, and like magic, four other men got out of their trucks and cars and they all came over to help me. They lifted the hood, figured out the problem, told me what it was, got me started temporarily, and directed traffic to push my car over safely to the shoulder, and told me how to find the nearest gas station for help. They refused money.
When I got to the station, I was told it would take an hour or so and they suggested I eat at the nearby fast food restaurant. I went in and saw a woman eating alone. I asked if I could join her. She turned out to be a holistic healer, too, and she followed me all the way to Rye, with jumper cables in her SUV, just in case my car broke down again. Who says New Yorkers don’t have hearts?
Posted by: Donna Greenberg | October 7, 2007 8:18 PM
The most profound effect on me from an act of kindness was when I was 17 years old. I had been struggling with addiction since 14 years old and my mother had thrown me out of her house. I tried to get clean thru a 12 step program and was walking to a 12 step meeting place. It was dead winter and blowing wind. I had no where to sleep that night and thoughts of suicide were non stop. As I walked, a man that I had seen at many meetings pulled up in his car and asked if I needed a ride. I got in and told him my situation.
He brought me to a Holiday Inn and got me a room. I accepted, and figured I would have to do whatever it took to keep a roof over my head that night. Even if it meant sleeping with him. He , however , never came and knocked on the door. He called me on the phone and said he would be there in the morning and we would figure out a solution to my problem. He did pick me up the next day with his young daughter in the car and from that time on he was my mentor..my teacher…my friend. I went to work with him,and just sat and listened, he helped me get my first apartment…I stayed clean for many years. I asked him HOW can I return what you have done for me ? I didn’t even know how to balance a checkbook or pay a bill. He showed me everything I need to survive in the world. He simply said “There will be a time when someone will need your help, and you will pay it forward”.
I am now 44 years old and have never forgotten what he taught me. He never made inappropriate advances . He never asked for anything. How I love this man and pay it forward every chance I get. He did not know at the time he saved my life that night. A simple act of kindness changed one lost soul’s destiny. I am happy to give 5 bucks to a person who is lost…a ride in the cold…a couch to crash on. I am clean and happy in my SOUL. I LOVE working with people that were like me. Thank you Marty…..
Posted by: Rose K. | October 8, 2007 11:44 AM
The most profoundly humbling experience of my life occurred when I went to Albania in 1999 to deliver aid to refugees from the conflict in Kosovo. After a long journey and much unaccustomed physical labor, I collapsed from exhaustion and heat, and was taken to a field hospital in a refugee camp in Kukes. The hospital, run by an Arab NGO, had only a small professional nursing staff, so many of the women doing the nursing tasks were actually Kosovan refugees themselves.
They treated me as though I were a precious jewel, sitting with me, holding my hand, bringing me food, and not even letting me walk to the port-o-potty without two or three of them accompanying me to make sure I didn’t hurt myself along the way. I will never forget the kindness of these women who had lost homes, friends, relatives to the war in their homeland–nor the exquisite lesson in humility they taught me. Perhaps instinctively, they found the divine healing that only giving when you have “nothing left to give” can bring.
Posted by: Kate Johnson | October 8, 2007 5:28 PM
In 1956 I was a nine year old girl escaping from Communist Hungary with my mother, father and five year old brother. We walked most of the night to the border and hid in a muddy ditch to escape the patrol guards and dogs. When we made it across the barbed wire fence and a Red Cross truck was waiting for us on the Austrian border; they took us to a sympathetic farmer’s house. The farmer and his family were poor, but their house was clean and orderly and we ate the oranges that the Red Cross gave us.
The farmer had a daughte about my age and her eyes were fixed on my boots…..the soles of my boots had come off in the struggle coming over the barbed wire fence and were flapping and full of mud. I was not only humiliated, but really uncomfortable.
She took off her boots and gave them to me, along with a clean pair of socks. My mother protested that we could not take the boots, but her parents smiled and insisted. They miracolously fit, and I wore themall the way to England. I knew that there were her only boots, and yet she gave them with a big smile, glad to be of help.
I will never forget that little girl for her true compassion and kindness.
Posted by: eva gord | October 7, 2007 2:41 PM
My little sister is the kindest person I know. When she was in 6th grade, she would come home upset almost everyday. My mom asked her what was wrong, and she told us that a boy named Billy was being picked on and bullied everyday. My mom said to her, if it bothers you so much, you have a voice you should say something. She said that she was afraid that if she stood up for him, that they would start picking on her too. My mom said, that if you think you are strong, and know what is right you should do it. She told her that if they so much as touched a hair on her head, that she had her parents to protect her and God was always on her side. She thought about it and didn’t say much until a few days later.
No one liked Billy very much because he was what kids call a geek. He didn’t have many friends. One day it became to much for my sister to watch him cry on the bus, she is a shy and reserved girl. She does not like to draw attention to herself.
But on one particular day, the other kids were being more cruel than normal, calling him names, kicking his seat, poking at him. He was asking them to stop, they just got worse. The bus driver didn’t seem to care or she just wasn’t paying attention. My sister stood up, and looked at the bullies, said to them, if you don’t stop bothering him, I will have my mom call the school and tell them what you’re doing. How dare you pick on him, he hasn’t done anything to you. You should look at your pathetic faces in the mirror before you continue to bully Billy.
They eased up for a while, they didn’t make fun of her, they would pick on him now and then, and when they did, she would just look at them with a disgusted look that shut them up. After this, Billy was her shadow, she wasn’t too happy because she didnt want him to think she had a crush on him. But she was ok. Our parents met Billy’s parents and our mom’s are now best friends. Billy has learned to stand up for himself. My sister is now 14 and as far as I’m concerned she is my hero. I love and respect her very much. She has a soft and loving heart and cannot stand for people to be victimized. My name is DeeDee and I am 19 years old. I wish that more kids respected others the way my sister does, and that more kids stood up to bullies that pick on other kids who are smaller and weaker than them.
Posted by: deedee | October 6, 2007 11:05 PM
For one act of kindness I personally recieved (which I wrote about on Bnet) that I am to this day still very touched by happened a few summers back. I am the primary caregiver to my parents. Dad had passed with the result being losing half our income. Just a few months later Mom began going through cancer treatments, radiation and then chemo. During that time, we were scrapping pennies, trying to make ends meet, going back and forth to treatments 45 mins one way, five days a week with a car that was litterally falling apart. I had lost the brakes once, the muffler fell off, door fell off, engine kept overheating, no AC in the hot summer heat. Each repair ate what little cash I had mange to scrounge. Keeping the bills paid and the car running, profiding food and medication was a constant struggle.
Finally, feeling overwhelmed and hopeless, one day on Bnet, I just asked for prayers and help.
Someone through a mutual fellow Bnet poster began sending Mom and I money every two weeks for over three months. I was astounded, humbled, and greatly apreicative everytime I recieved an email telling me another check was on the way. I cried each time, feeling both blessed and humbled by such kindness, knowing that this unknown angel knew there was no way I could ever pay this back. These gifts was what kept Mom and I going for several months until we could turn that curve and get back on our feet. When this unknown angel finally sent the last check the tally was over $3000.
To this day I dont know who that fellow poster was, but Mom and I are still very gratefull and humbled. 🙂
Thank you!!!!
~jj
Posted by: jumbojava | October 5, 2007 9:06 PM
It may sound silly but the most profound act of kindness I’ve witnessed is someone asking me “How are you doing?”. And when I responded with the societially conditioned “Fine, how are you?”, not even making eye contact, he touched my shoulder softly and asked again “How are you doing?”. It brought tears to my eyes.
The reason I found it so profound is because of the simplicity of the act. This man took five minutes out of his busy day and was actually interested in hearing about MY mental state. It still gives me chills when I think about it.
Posted by: Melissa Whitely | October 5, 2007 10:52 AM
I have 3 children ~ 2 girls and a boy (ages 9,6,3 respectively). my middle daughter (6 yr.old) has Down Syndrome and a unilateral hearing loss – she only hears out of her left ear.
My 9 year old daughter came to me about 6 months ago and said “mommy, i am worried about Claire’s “good ear”. What if she loses her hearing in that one too? I really think we need to start learning more sign language so we can teach it to her now, just in case she loses her hearing in her good ear.” Thus, she has been getting sign language videos from the library, learning from them, and teaching them to her sister ever since. all on her own, in her own time…
At 9 years old, in today’s world, i found this so incredibly touching that my daughter would be so connected with the realities of another, especially to the degree that she is willing to take it upon herself to learn / teach something solely for the benefit of that other person.
Posted by: kindra hadley | October 7, 2007 2:53 PM
Years ago, growing up in rural Nova Scotia in a Catholic family of nine (3 adults, 6 children), we used to have severe, disabling snowstorms. Not only did we not have a lot materially, we had a mother who suffered from a disease that no doctor at the time could identify (an allergy to the gluten in white flour). The agony of this unknown disease was severe diarrhea, stomach pains that made her bend over double and a weight loss she could not afford. Several times before her condition was diagnosed, she was anointed and prepared for death.
About 9 p.m. one night, during one of these storms, there was a knock at the door. There at the door were two cold, bedraggled couples about 30 miles from home. They were looking for a place to stay. We were running neither an inn nor a bed and breakfast, but my mother offered them comfort and safety from the elements. I remember her serving them tea, biscuits, cheese, and fruitcake. I can’t confirm what month it was, but it had to be close to Christmas with the fruitcake still in the crock.
Nothing was said, but we were given ‘the eye’ – you have to give up your beds (4 sisters sharing 2 double beds). Somewhere, out of nowhere, there appeared fresh linen for what was now ‘their’ beds. I have no idea where we all slept that night, but I do know two of slept on the floor in sleeping bags beside the stove with the dog in between us. Oddly enough, I remember being warm and cozy and feeling blessed by adventure. I also recall my father walking down to the end of the long country driveway through snowdrifts retrieving the battery from their car and keeping it warm behind the wood stove in the kitchen.
In the morning, our ‘guests’ arose to find the storm had abated and a hot breakfast on the table. I can still see it – fresh tea, porridge, boiled eggs and toast from homemade bread. After finishing breakfast, my father put the battery back in their car and they were on their way. A short while later, my mother received a package in the mail. It was a rosary made of red, crystal-like beads. It was from our guests. Even though I have since bought her a rosary in Ireland, she still prefers the one made of those red crystals, the one that came to her because of her kindness to strangers in a storm.
Yesterday, my mom celebrated her 80th birthday. While I couldn’t be there for it, my daughter in Halifax represented us at her tea. We showered her with a basket full of gluten-free products which she considers a ‘treat’. I consider them a necessity of life.
Today, when I see a homeless person, the first thing I ask: “Have you eaten today?” If they say no, I walk to the Safeway close by and return with a sandwich and a drink. No, I haven’t taught them how to cook, but I have squelched those stomach rumblings, if only temporarily.
Loretta
Posted by: Loretta Bremer | October 7, 2007 6:22 PM
Between the ages of 6 and 7 years, I was sexually abused by a Catholic priest. I could not tell my parents because they had befriended him on a personal basis and he often was a guest in our home. He was reported by another young girl to whom he was doing the same thing. As a result, he was excommunicated from the Church.
At the same time, I was being physically, verbally and sexually abused by my stepfather. I lived my life filled with great guilt and my self-esteem was about as low as it could be. I never breathed a word about these happenings to anyone until I was in my 20’s.
At that time, I was acquainted with a very kind, loving married couple. I do not recall how or why I confided in them about this, but when I did they spent countless hours counselling me with prayers, writings, and endless hours of conversations until I was able to change my feelings and thoughts about myself and become a stable, steady human being. I could never find the words to express just how much this meant to me and how drastically it changed my life.
I have always felt it was a profound gift from them and think about them with deep gratitude even though they both have passed on.
Posted by: Charra DeMarco | October 9, 2007 6:51 AM
This past August, I flew from NY to St. Louis to pick up my grandmothers dog. Julie is a 13 year old Lhasa Apso and the light of my grandmothers life. When my grandmother had to sell her house and move into a senior housing development, she entrusted Julie to my half sister. Unfortunately, she severely neglected the poor thing. She had become infested with fleas and had lost half her fur. My half-sister was going to put her to sleep. I called my aunt and requested she intervene. It was my aunt who discovered the neglect and got Julie the care she needed to recover.
I flew to my aunt’s to pick up little Julie. Because of the cost involved, I had a connection in Chicago. I figured it would only add about an hour to the total travel time and saved several hundred dollars. My flight from Chicago was delayed numerous times, initially for mechanical issues and ultimately for weather. We we stuck on the plane for about five hours. I was stressed and scared that this poor frightend dog was stuck in a bag at my feet. With the drive to the airport, she had been in the carrier, minus a few walks through the airport, pretty much from 8 in the morning.
Very severe storms rolled through Chicago and people began talking about cancelling the flight. I kept believing it wouldn’t be cancelled. Ultimately, it was and I was terrifed, because I had this poor scare creature in my care and we would be stuck sleeping in the airport. She had refused water all day and she was hungry. We’d have no easy way for her to relieve herself inside a crowded airport terminal.
I called my sister (not the one in St. Louis) and told her we might be stuck in Chicago overnight. She had been posting about our adventures on an online forum she belonged to. One of the people on that forum volunteered to take us in for the night. At first I was scared, but when the flight was cancelled, I called this generous person. I burst into tears. I had no idea how scared I was.
This amazing person drove 2 1/2 hours in a horrific storm. It took anohter hour and a half to get to her house. As we headed back there were trees strewn about the city streets. Traffic lights were out everywhere.
This woman was so generous to drive in such dangerous weather just to ensure a weary traveler and her dog would not be left frightened at an airport. I had never met this woman before, but she was so generous and friend. I kept telling her that I could never thank her enough for helping us out. She said that she did it because she would hope that, if she were in the same position, someone would do it for her. She took exceptional care of us and made sure both my dog and I had a nice meal and a safe, warm place to sleep. I think this is the most amazing act of kindness I have ever experienced.
Oh, and the dog is doing wonderfully now. She is flourishing. She is so happy and playful and loving life. She reminds me every day to live in the present and cherish every moment.
Posted by: Lynn | October 4, 2007 10:52 PM
When I was 17 my aunt was in a horse riding accident and went into a coma. My mother flew on an airplane to be with her sister and her family. While en route my mother learned that her sister had died.
Terribly destraught with grief, the woman next to her on the plane, whom she did not know, held her hand the whole way. My mother never knew her name, but often told that story of how that kindness got her threw one of the most painful moments of her life.
Posted by: Shannon McHone | October 6, 2007 8:01 AM
This past summer, my husband was undergoing extensive diagnostic testing for lymphoma. He was, and remains ill. As you can imagine, we were very distraught. The love of my life was sick and I was learning there was nothing I could do but watch and live it out with him. I thought I was stronger and was surprised at how deeply his suffering hurt me. We figured out the priorities pretty quick. Lots of things we thought so important suddenly fell by the wayside.
One thing that didn’t was our small horse farm, Samadhi. I’ve had horses all my life but a recent serious disability left me unable to do many of the harder things around the farm. My wonderful husband, though he doesn’t ride, was always happy to help out. We enjoy Samadhi and we do become happily absorbed in what we do here. But make no mistake; there is a lot of hard work associated with these beautiful horses and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to get that done.
Besides not feeling well, my husband wasn’t up to helping out as much as he had. He felt bad about that but I assured him it was all fine, just fine. Take it easy, please, just go rest. He was tired, worn out, and I was struggling to keep up the farm. My young son was trying to help as much as possible.
June came. Around here, that’s when they cut and bale hay, a main feed for the horses. Now, anyone who has ‘done hay’ knows how much work it is. Here, I’m lucky enough to have a local farmer deliver the load of hay to my barn but it’s our job to get it in the loft. And when he calls, a year’s worth of hay has to go in our loft. In the past, my little 115 lb body could lift and stack the bales with ease; I never shirked the tough end of having horses. But with this leg, I just can’t do it anymore.
As I awaited the farmer’s call, I was troubled over how I’d ever get it put up in the loft. I sure didn’t want my husband trying to do it. My son could only help just so much. I’d gotten local kids to help in the past but if they helped once, they never came back the second season no matter how much food and beverage I offered, or how much money I would pay them. Just too much work, I guess.
One afternoon, two young men in black pants, white shirts and ties came to the door. They asked if we could talk for a while. “Mormons,” I thought. I told them this was not a good time, that I had a lot on my mind because of everything that was going on with my husband, and wasn’t in the mood for that sort of discussion. (It was a particularly bad day, I’d been crying, giving in to worry)
One of the young men glanced at the barn and asked if we had horses out there. I said we did, three of them, one Morgan very old at 27. He said grew up on a farm in Idaho and as a missionary, he missed home. We both agreed it was a lot of work and somehow I mentioned that in fact I was waiting for hay to come in. We laughed over the fact that it always seems be ready on the hottest day of the year. Then, he asked if we needed help with the hay.
I had to laugh. Did he know what doing hay meant? I mean, it wasn’t like we were taking in 10,000 bales but it’s hot, dusty, sweaty labor that leaves a person with plenty of sore muscles. He said “Ma’am, back home we ran cattle, had horses, grew crops and lots of hay. I know what doing hay is.” I asked about his companion. The other gentleman said he’d be just fine. He handed me a card with some phone numbers on it. He said, “Call me when the farmer says he bringing your hay and we’ll help you.” I asked if he was serious. He said he was but I had my doubts.
A few days passed and the farmer’s call came. Sure enough, it was a hot day. The farmer said he’d deliver a loft-full the next morning at 10:30 if that was alright. Yes, that would be fine.
Suddenly, I was frantic. Who would help? My son was barely able to slide the bales let alone lift them. I didn’t want my husband in the loft due to his condition. My other son couldn’t get the day off and there was no one to help. I was frustrated that I couldn’t do it myself and cried. Then, I remembered the card the young missionary had given me. Did they really mean it? Were they for real? I was about to find out.
I called the young Elder (odd title, eh?) and asked if he remembered me. He did and asked if the hay was in. I said it was and did they really mean it when they offered to help? They did, and said they’d be there at 10:30 sharp.
I don’t know how long it took us to get the hay stacked in that loft but between the elders and my young son and a daughter who had to go to work after helping only 10 minutes or so, the job got done.
I offered the young men lunch but they declined. Cool water, also declined respectfully. I said I felt bad they had worked so hard and wanted to do something for them. One of the young men said, “Ma’am, we actually want to thank you for such a wonderful opportunity to serve. In fact, this was the best one yet. If we took something for it, it wouldn’t be like we were really helping from the heart, you know?” I said, “At least take a dip in the pool; we have extra suits. Surely you’d like to get that chaff off of you, cool off a bit, and you probably don’t like that ‘farm’ smell.” He told me he’d like to smell that way as long as he could because it reminded him of home. Besides not being allowed to swim while on the two-year missionary venture, they could only call home twice a year… Christmas and Mother’s Day.
I said, in that case, I had a very dirty horse that could use a good brushing. (It was the only thing I could think of) We all went down into the cool stable area. I took out my black horse and handed the Elder a brush. (the horse wasn’t really dirty, just some shavings in his mane) His eyes lit up and he set to work brushing away with the confidence of a young man who has brushed many horses and liked it.
Meanwhile, we began to talk about our beliefs. I thought, “Oh boy, here it comes… the push.” But the push never came.
I told them we practiced Zen Buddhism here at Samadhi and he told me they were missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of LDS.
My son brought out his guitar and played for us as we sat on bales of hay in the cool alley way. That black horse was as sleek as could be, and clearly enjoying the attention he was getting. My husband and I enjoyed talking with them about the similarities of our beliefs and the goodness of lovingkindness and awareness. We shared a few life stories, then it was time to go.
And that was it. No literature, no push to change each other. It was all about kindness right from the heart. I’ll never forget that day… we had a great need for help and it appeared in the form of two young men at our front door. They gave of themselves unconditionally with no strings attached and taught us a little lesson about taking things just as they are without thinking things into them. They thanked us again for the chance to help and said if we needed any fence work or more hay brought in to just call. I thanked them for reminding me that it is truly in giving that we receive, and that in the middle of a world that often seems violent and scary, there is sweet goodness, sometimes right at the front door.
Posted by: Debbie | October 8, 2007 12:52 PM
i feel extremely lucky to have seen so many random acts of kindness living in new york city that warmed my heart. however the first thing that popped into my mind was something that happened this past may at my local laundromat. i had just went through the difficult process of having an abortion. the decision was not made lightly – it was an extremely traumatic experience for me, and although i believe that soul will come back to the world, and perhaps into my life when the time is right, i suffered emotionally, physically and spiritually through the whole ordeal.
i did have a good support system, and a few weeks after the operation when i had pretty much recovered physically my boyfriend and i set off for a relaxing weekend at my family’s home.
the night before we left i went across the street to do our wash so we would have clean clothes to bring with us. much to my surprise, when i went to pick my clothes up from the drier – the laundromat had already closed. i went the next day in the morning to see what had happened to my laundry. they were still in the drier, but damp and moldy smelling. i didn’t have any money to do my laundry over again, as i had been out of work for a couple of weeks; and my boyfriend was at work so i was stuck.
i approached the woman who works there and told her what happened, and she said there was nothing she could do for me, that i should have asked when the laundromat closed. we went back and forth, and eventually it turned into a heated argument and overwhelmed with rage and emotion I burst into tears. she softened and asked me if everything was ok because she couldn’t understand why i’d get so emotional over my laundry , and i proceeded to spill my guts, so to speak. she listened, and when i was done speaking, she offered to do my laundry for me, and said I should try to calm down and come back in a few hours.
Walking across the street to my house, I felt so embarrassed for having spilled my heart out in frustration to a stranger. I picked up my bag of clean laundry a couple hours later and when i got it home, i noticed there was a card inside with my name on it. i sat down, opened it and read. it was a beautifully written heartfelt message, and if i had it with me right now i would share it, but it warmed my heart, and was full of inspirational unconditional love and support that you only expect to receive from a family member. andi sat on the edge of my bed and cried in happiness for the unusual kindness and generosity that I had experienced from the heart of a complete stranger.
Posted by: nicolita | October 9, 2007 4:18 PM
I have been blessed to witness many acts of kindness; I was also fortunate enough to have experienced an exorbitant amount of kindness firsthand in New York City after falling down two flights of subway steps, and ending up briefly unconscious, then disoriented. With so many negative things said about New Yorkers, it was touching to watch the people jump into action around me — the man who ran upstairs with his cell phone to call 911; the woman who took my hand and sat with me until the ambulance came; the police officer who patiently waited as I struggled to remember my name and the telephone numbers of those who might know me; the EMS worker who assured me that, although head wounds bleed a lot, my head was not actually going to fall off as I insisted it was.
When I reached the hospital and reached into my wallet for my insurance information, there was a note from the police officer with his telephone number, and the name of the woman who’d sat with me, both of whom asked that I let them know how I was doing. I’ll never forget that feeling of being so utterly cared for, by such utter strangers.
Posted by: Elizabeth | October 9, 2007 6:22 PM