On Lent, Bullies and Random Acts of Kindness

Friemily Board - Love Wins!

Ah, Lent, a very special season, which always brings back memories of my Abuela and her traditional Lenten Friday dinners consisting of (cold) boiled potatoes and sardines with onions.  Do not know where that tradition came from, it was just always there.  Even when we were still in Cuba. The theory was the money that would have been spent on dinner went to the church.  In addition to whatever we put in the collection plate on Sunday. The reason we had sardines was because of the loaves and fishes.  Well, I asked, then why didn't we have sardines and bread?  Why did we have potatoes? Why did everything have to be cold? (Now, of course, I am thankful we were not served warm sardines, phew!)  Why did we do this only (thank God) at Lent?  Didn't the church need money year round?   I was told I asked too many questions.  I heard that A LOT when I was growing up. Still, come Lent, I always tried to have Friday dinner at a (non-Catholic) friend's house.  This did not always work out and a lot of times I wound up having, yep, sardines and potatoes.  Yum.  Now, of course, I would give anything to be at the family table once more, everyone gathered, passing around the plates with the sardines and the potatoes.  But when one is a child, one takes such blessings for granted.  My Mom teasing my Grandmother about how hard it must have been to catch such fine sardines.  My Grandfather grousing about why was there no rice at the table?  He was of the opinion if there was no rice at the table, dinner was not served.  My Dad asking me about my math homework and me, lying, saying I'd finished it.  Which, of course, I had not.  Did not like math.  Still don't.  Come Saturday afternoon it was off to confession where I would, yet again, confess to lying about my math homework.  And to being jealous of my friend Beth because she had a brand new baby brother to play with.  Big sinner.

Roses for my Abuela

It always amuses me when people give up chocolate for Lent.  Like it's some huge sacrifice.  Granted it can be, especially when you are (as I am) a major chocolate lover.  Love, love, love chocolate.  But, come on, like my good friend wrote last year, I don't think He wants our chocolate.  Giving up something we love is a sacrifice, of sorts.  Being kind, or civil, to those we know do not merit is, I believe, a greater sacrifice.  Especially when you know they are lying right to your face, to keep a civil tongue is an admirable trait.  Even if you have to bite your tongue to keep from lashing out. Civility, I have come to believe, is a really, really, really (get the picture?) big sacrifice.  I always remember my Grandmother, bless her heart, who would tell me "Be kind, child, mind your manners."  That was her mantra.  My grandmother really, really tried to instill that in me.  She was first and foremost a lady, with a capital "L."  She loved her family, roses and pearls. Manners.  Goodness, she was a stickler for manners.  I inherited her love of family, roses and pearls.  Her love of manners ... not so much.  Minding my manners has not always been possible for me.  I have let loose way too many times in my life.  Sometimes it has been merited.  Sometimes not.  Every time it has left a bad taste in my mouth.  Because I have lost control.  Because I have gained nothing by it.  Because I let them get to me.  My father used to tell me, if someone yells at you, you respond in a lower voice.  If you yell back, you engage them and they win.  Avoid yelling back.  Speak in a low voice.  Or walk away.  I  have walked away a lot.  Sometimes thinking, wishing, they would, eventually, look for me.  That has not always been the case.  In time, I learned those who did not were people that, like the poem says, are in your life for a season or a reason.  Then, once you have learned whatever it is you were supposed to learn from each other (and sometimes you have no clue what the lesson is, until eons later), you are no longer in each other's lives.  And no matter how much you miss them, they have no place in it.

Getting back to Lent, it is supposedly a season of praying, meditating, giving alms, helping the needy.  But that is something we should do all the time, not just a season.  I mean, hello?  If we are truly following in His steps (as so many claim to do), we should be in the trenches, getting dirty, if you will.  No, I don't mean, give up your jobs and comforts and go live under a bridge.  I mean living it every day.  Not turning away when a homeless person approaches you.  I read of a well-known attorney who makes it a point to have singles (as in dollar bills, not people) to give to whoever.  Why singles you may ask.  Well, once he gave a homeless person a five-dollar bill, the person promptly approached a hot dog vendor who gave the guy a hard time because he had a five dollar bill.  Mocking him, saying he must have worked really hard to get so much money.  Apparently, they don't question their having singles, but a five dollar bill, well, hey, that's a reason to give a poor shmoe a hard time.  I don't get bullies.  I think they are teeny tiny-brained people who have no place in the world.  And, yes, I know, bullies a great deal of the time are people who have been, or are, bullied.  But, you know, there comes a time when you realize that hey, being bullied sucks, so why would you inflict it on someone else?  I have never known a happy bully, have you?

I once dated a guy who had a miserable childhood.  He did not lack for creature comforts, his family was well-off.  But his father yelled at him constantly, pushing him to be better, mocking and belittling him at every turn.  His father was, to put it delicately, an equine derriere.  He had a beautiful son and made him feel worthless.  He grew up brilliant, quite charming.  His charm could turn on a dime.  You never knew when it was coming.  He would lash out, verbally, viciously.  Then apologize profusely, blaming it on his childhood. Never got physical, which is why we actually lasted a long time.  Too long. At first I would forgive, I felt so bad for him.  Having a relative that excels at verbal abuse, I know how hurtful it can be.  Luckily I had my parents who ran interference.  But his mother just laughed it off.  Which added insult to injury.  Eventually though, I realized he was always going to do that and I got tired.  Tired of the yelling, of the bad words.  Tired of family dinners with his parents where his father mocked him and his mother just smiled and drank.  Tired of the apologizing and false contriteness. The last yelling episode, I can't call it an argument, because I never yelled back, I would just let him yell and scream himself out, but that last time he started throwing things and I realized, it was time to get out.  He was never going to change. That was one of the first times I walked away from someone I loved.  I got tired of living with my shoulders wrapped around my neck, wondering what would set him off.  I just got really, really tired.

I have known people who suffered much, much worse abuse, physical abuse, hunger, and have become kind, gentle, giving human beings.  They chose to stop the cycle with them.  It's a choice.  Some realize they have a choice and make the right one.  Some see that choice and turn it down.  Because they are so angry at having been abused and hurt, they want someone else to feel the same pain they did.  In the end that solves nothing.  Certainly does not give them their childhood or innocence back. But there you go.  Still, they are broken, they need to be loved.  From far away, sometimes. But, still loved.  The fact you have been hurt, sometimes by the very people that should have protected and cherished you, does not give you a free pass to hurt others.  Once you grow up, you choose. You can be an equine derriere (I am trying to keep it clean here) or you can be a good person.  Good people do not mock, hurt, inflict pain on purpose.  Side bar:  Why is an equine derriere a derogatory term?  Horses are wonderful, intelligent, loyal animals.  I'd love to know how that term came into being.  I am not going to use that term anymore.  It is an insult to horses.  Some people are insults to mankind.

There are people who have the reputation for being horrible to deal with.  I have experienced that, actually, they turn out to be the nicest if you treat them fairly and with no b.s.  See? Keeping it clean, ha! They have really finely-tuned b.s. detectors.  You just have to have a little patience.  Maybe they have been mistreated in the past, so they put up a defensive front.  It's a defense mechanism.  You kick before getting kicked.  These are people that are tagged as "difficult."  I know a few like that.  Some have become friends. Others I have never gotten through their shields.  Ah, well.  Still, I have always been kind to them.  These people are not bullies, mind you.  They are just loners.  I can understand that. I treat people like I would like to be treated.  Unless I feel threatened, or witness their threatening or abusing someone, be they two-legged or four or winged.  That is unacceptable and I go into Rambo mode. It's not pretty.

Kindness can sometimes be mistaken for being foolish.  Big mistake.  It irks me when, for example, someone gives a homeless person some money, or a blanket on a cold night, or a meal, and someone else makes a snarky remark saying they are being a fool being kind.  I always think, there but for the grace of God go I, or someone I know, love, care about.  Once at a red light, I gave some money to a gentleman who was walking between the rows of cars.  The person with me said "You're being stupid, he'll just buy some cheap booze with it."  I thought, well, so, what?  Standing on a corner, on a rainy day, soaked to the skin, holding up a sign, being ignored or yelled at, has got to suck.  If the few dollars I give him can give him some bit of comfort, whatever that may be, who am I to criticize?  There are so many people hurting these days.  They have always been there.  I think it is just part of the world, of humanity.  There will always be suffering, there will always be bullies, there will always be those that have more than they will ever need and turn a blind eye to their brothers' suffering.  But there will always be those who do good, those who will lay their life down for people they don't even know, those who truly walk in His shoes (okay, sandals).  They are the quiet masses.  They go about their daily lives, routine, quietly, not seeking the spotlight.  Not yelling "Here I am!  Here I am!  Look at me!  I'm helping this beggar!"



Love Wins!

I love the saying "Practice random acts of kindess and commit acts of senseless beauty."  I happen to think kindness is an act of love.  Sometimes towards complete strangers.  The other night I witnessed a random act of kindness, actually I've seen it a couple of times.  I have written about this gentleman before.  He lives under an overpass I go through every day to go home.  He has a very military bearing and sweeps "his" sidewalk.  In his (very clean and shiny) cart you can see a spritzer bottle with what appears to be Windex (it's blue), rags, his broom (when he's not using it) and several parcels neatly tied with bungee cords.  He is always either sweeping or having a conversation with someone visible only to him or else saluting as the cars whiz by. A car pulled over and handed him a takeout bag.  He always makes the sign of the cross and bows his head, then the car continues and usually someone honks their horn because, you know, God forbid you slow down two seconds and hand someone some food. I always thank the Father for people like whoever is in that car.  In this season of Lent, I pray that group grows by leaps and bounds, the world needs a lot more of them.  One night the light was red and I stopped right in front of him, I always look at him and wave hello, this time he waved back and mouthed the words "God bless you" making the sign of the cross, I did the same. Then the light turned green and I was nearly deafened from the honking behind me, but I had a warm and fuzzy feeling all the way home.

There is a lot of hunger out there.  For food, for truth, for love.  I always thank the Father every night for getting me to, through and back from work, safe and sound.  For protecting my nest, my neighbors, me and mine.  Every morning I give thanks to Him for the new day, for protecting me through the night.  I thank the Father for little things, hot coffee in the morning, indoor plumbing, my cat who pokes her nose in my face and makes sure I am up on time (whether I want to or not) because she WANTS HER BREAKFAST, that is one punctual feline tummy, I give thanks for my friemily, having a job, the routine of every day.  Things we sometimes take for granted and others would sell their souls for.  You think you're having a miserable day?  Take a walk through the ICU of a hospital.  Or Appalachia where people live in what we would call impossible conditions, yet they survive and sometimes even thrive.  Spend some time with our troops fighting a war that seems to have no end, in a part of the world where we are spat upon, at times by those whose lives we are there to protect.  Whoever says war is noble is out of their mind, war is hell.  Noble are those who fight, knowing their lives will never be the same, yet still they go into battle.  Willing to put their lives on the line.  Witnessing unimaginable horrors.  And we wonder why some of them come back so damaged they turn on their own.  They willingly put their lives on the line for complete strangers.  Isn't that the ultimate random act of kindness?

Light Gives Warmth, So Does A Cup of Tea

Sometimes we forget how truly blessed we are, no matter how sucky our days are, how many tweezils we are forced to deal with, we come home, eventually, we close our doors, breathe peace.  When going through a really bumpy patch a while back someone emailed me "All is well.  You are loved."  It became my mantra during that time.  Someone else emailed me "Love wins." I did a little painting of a heart with those words in it.  It is true, you know, in the end love does win.  Evil does not obviate good, the Light will always prevail.  One of the many reasons I love the Whimbles is their slogan, "Lead with your heart and lighten the world."



Pretty, Pretty Shoes!

We are loved and that love gives us the Light which is so very much needed today.  Sometimes it all gets to me, I start losing sight of the good, of the beauty and that is when I head over to one of my favorite blogs, they bring a bit of beauty, wit and laughter when I am at my lowest.  They are what I call my "Blog Trifecta Plus One" because there are actually four, Frances Schultz', Hollye Jacobs', Rx for the Soul's and the Whimbles' blogs.  They unfailingly put me in a good mood, make me laugh, think, smile, remember. A recent post in Frances' blog took me back to my childhood and playing in my Mom's closet.  To me it was a fairy tale playground, full of beautiful clothes, high heels in every color, gorgeous purses (my purse and shoes obsession is in my genes) and what she called "feminine dainties" which were pretty lacy things.  Oh, how I loved playing in her closet.  Putting on her high heels and tromping about the house in them, sometimes with a very lacy garter belt that featured the most perfect tiny pink satin bows, perched on my head, like a bizarre hat.  I wanted to go out on the terrace and parade about in my finery, my Abuela almost had a knipshe fit.  I was four.  Some months later one of my cousins and I were playing brides, we decided our underskirts made out of yards and yards of tulle would make splendid veils and promptly perched them on our heads.  Yeah, Abuela nixed our bridal parade.  Darn it.  We were so hoping the two brothers who lived across the street would notice our elegant get-ups.  I wonder if Frances and Hollye, Connie and Martha know how truly wonderful their blogs are.  Their postings are, to me, acts of kindness.  I don't know all of them personally, but they truly are some of the finest Silver Linings in my life.

Okay, enough rambling and ambling, time to make dinner!  Soup, wonderful, soul-warming, tummy-smiling soup! Tonight I got creative and made an Alfredo sauce base lightened with a bit of chicken broth, then tossed in corn, mushrooms, carrots and (in honor of Lent) potatoes, but no sardines.  Ever. Until next time, be blessed, keep the faith and be kind to one another.



Soup!