A woman I have met infrequently sent me a card in the mail. There was no reason for her to write to me. She thanked me for my support of her writing. She wrote not to feel alone because people cared about me. She knew how isolating it was to care for an aging parent, but I would get through it all right because I was a great person.
She didn’t have to take the time to sit down and write words of encouragement to me, but she did. She practices kindness. It lifted my spirit. It made me feel valuable — that I was worth the effort.
The smallest act of kindness can change a person’s life. There are so few people who would take the time without having some personal gain attached to it. Knowing that someone has shown kindness to me without any possible remuneration renews my faith in my fellow human beings.
I learn from her kindness and will pass it on to others, and maybe–just maybe–the world will become a better place.
For Mercy, Courage, Kindness, Mirth,
There is no measure upon earth.
Nay, they wither, root and stem,
If an end be set to them.
Overbrim and overflow,
If your own heart you would know;
For the spirit born to bless
Lives but in its own excess.
— Laurence Binyon. 1869-1943