Rivers of kindness

Mary brought me this flower.  I kissed her head, put it behind her ear and took this picture.

The kids and their cousins going for a Sunday stroll.  Elena and my nephew walk arm-in-arm.  Jesse lags behind waiting for me.  She always waits for me.

 Some mornings Mary has a hard time getting up and ready for the day.  I often find Elena, speaking softly to her and braiding her hair. 

Kindness is a lovely word.  It melts my heart just looking at it.  It's even more beautiful in action.  Sometimes I forget to be kind, and when that happens, God reminds me.  He reminds me by all the incidences I mentioned above.  He reminds me every time I'm crabby and my family isn't crabby back.  He reminds me in the grocery store when they bag my stuff and say, "have a nice day," and I feel like they really mean it; or in the parking lot when someone makes eye contact and smiles and waves, even though I know we don't know each other; or when I see someone on the roads give way, so someone else can merge or make their turn in time. 

 I feel good every time I see the shaka flash. 

Most of all, God is kind.  My whole life, even the difficult stuff, is a testament of it.  He shows me kindness every time understanding comes after the trial.  He shows me kindness every time I feel moved by beautiful music, or I see the sunlight glowing on the green.  He shows me kindness when I read good books to my children about love and honor and sacrifice, and I have to pause because I get choked up.  It all just softens me and I know again, how kind and good He truly is.  God is the source of all kindness, a veritable wellspring of it.  I've learned that if I open myself to it, I can be a little rivulet branching off of the fountainhead- spreading kindness wherever I go.  And since kindness is so very contagious, who knows what other little streams may branch off in the process.  Today could bring a deluge sweeping across the land.  

I hope so.  Wouldn't it be lovely?