And it can happen in an unexpected place, with unexpected players.
Joseph Mackereth
I look at the world through different eyes every year. What I valued in my 20s seems pitifully shallow now. My 30s were spent chasing what I thought was success, but once achieved felt unsatisfying. It was like waiting for a steak you’d ordered and the waiter serving you a cardboard replica complete with a parsley garnish.
Of course, my 40s and 50s were spent trying to find the real reason for it all. Soul searching and all that, you know. What did I need to add to my life to live more beautifully? And I don’t mean beautifully in the Southern Living perfectly decorated home kind of way. I mean to be a better person, to become a more beautiful personality and person in my community.
What is curious to me is that you don’t become more by adding. You become more by subtracting. Subtracting the too-many promises, the marginal obligations, the things you think you’re supposed to do but just add more stress than they’re worth to your life.
Don’t get me wrong. I am certainly not qualified to give anyone life advice. I do think I get a little smarter with each passing year and if I live to be 150, I might just get my own life figured out and in order. So I was bundled up, sitting on my porch here in the Shenandoah Valley, enjoying the most stunning full moon I had seen in a long while, when I realized what I admire and value most in myself and others. Kindness.
If a person takes the time to slow down and be kind to someone who can do nothing for them in return, I am full of admiration for them. If a person is kind to someone in need and asks for no recognition, I love them. If a person does what’s right no matter how inconvenient, I want them as my friend.
Who is my best example of true pure kindness? Don’t laugh, but it’s my therapy dog Biscuit, and I will tell you a story that explains why. Most every night we gather in the family room, Patrick, myself, and the four dogs, to watch TV or read. As any dog owner can tell you, a quiet dog is a dog in the midst of getting into trouble. Biscuit was not with the pack and I could not hear her. I’m telling you if she’s gone all ninja silent, she’s up to something.
So I go looking for her. Oh, she’s just lying on her bed with a stuffed toy. How sweet. Only I don’t recognize this toy. I turn the overhead lights on. The reason I can’t recall this particular toy is because it’s a possum. It’s a living, breathing possum that she has brought in out of the freezing cold to warm up on her fluffy, comfortable bed. What’s more shocking is that the possum looks just fine with the situation.
Well, as Disney-like as this charming scene is, I have three other dogs that would be thrilled to treat this possum like an interactive chew toy. If they wake up, it’s going to be a boatload of chaos in my house. I called Biscuit, who looks so proud of herself, off the bed and then quickly folded the bed up to make a trapped possum taco of sorts, taking it outside and freeing Biscuit’s brand new best friend.
Biscuit saw a need in a stranger, and shared what she had. She showed kindness to someone who could have been a natural foe but she made into a friend. She asked nothing of the possum in return. I truly hope that one day I will become as good a person as my dog is now. Kindness matters.
The story above appears in our January/February 2021 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!