On Being Kind ... At A Distance ~@AuthorKristina Knight

It's Monday morning as I write this, the 4th Monday morning of Social Distancing in my state (which means bebe has been home from school for 4 weeks now). All in all, it's going well. She's less anxious than usual (school and the distractions therein stress her out), she's missing her friends, but she's also finding renewed interest in a few things (reading for fun, playing with the pups, etc).

But this Monday wasn't the easiest of Mondays by any stretch of the imagination. She's supposed to watch a musical for choir; she's had it picked out since social distancing began and yet this morning she was shocked - SHOCKED - that I wanted her to write up her thoughts when she hadn't watched the musical yet. Like, I've only told her 3 times each of the last 3 weeks to go watch 20 minutes (or so). So now she's pouting (and watching) in her room while I put this blog together.

I'm now not really in the mood to write about random acts of kindness but I'm going to anyway and I'm going to hope that writing about random acts of kindness will push my mood-meter back into the green region.

As RadioMan and I were picking up groceries this weekend, I spotted a little old lady at the end of the one of the aisles. She had her list in her hand but wasn't moving. She'd peek around the corner and then back up to stand at the end cap. Peek. Move back. I asked her if I could help with something. She pointed into the aisle where probably four soccer moms were standing in a group, chatting about...I don't know, lost soccer practices? The point is, they weren't shopping, they were chatting. And the lady was waiting for them to leave the aisle so that she could safely get what she needed from the top shelf (a can of evaporated milk). None of them noticed her. They didn't even notice me when I said, "Excuse me, please," and reached up to the top shelf behind them to get the can of milk. Handed it off and went about my shopping.

A couple weeks ago, a friend on Twitter posted about her parking lot experience - she'd just finished getting groceries when she heard a voice calling from a nearby car. It was an elderly couple, who didn't have any family nearby, and who were afraid to go inside the store to shop. They gave her money, she picked up their groceries and gave them her number to call if they needed more.

One of bebe's friends has the tendency toward anxiousness, just like her, and they're sending each other 'you got this' memes and silly (very loud and off-key) singing videos.

My work bestie and I email memes throughout the day, the sillier the better, because our dayjob can be stressful at times.

I've been writing in my planner things that I'm grateful for or 1 good thing that happens...no one will see these things except me, but it's helpful for me to see the good, especially when the news is filled with so much that isn't good. It's why I stopped to chat with the older lady at the end of the aisle when I normally would have probably not even noticed.

If I come out of social distancing with only one lesson learned, I want it to be this: there is power is a small act of kindness (getting something off the top shelf, sending a silly video, finding the perfect meme). Bob Kerrey wrote, "Unexpected kindness is the most powerful, least costly, and most underrated agent of human change." I've always liked that quote, but during this time, I've started to see the layers to it.

One single act leads to another and that leads to another. Maybe I only got one can of evaporated milk off a shelf, but that allowed her to go home where maybe she was cooking for her husband or son, who then went off to work at an essential job where he was able to help an out-of-work waitress keep the power on despite being unable to pay a bill, and because the power was on maybe she could earn money for groceries by watching the children of another essential worker who can no longer take her kids to daycare because they're all closed. My point is that we don't know what that one act of kindness triggers for someone else. Maybe it only triggers relief at being able to go home where it is safe. Maybe it triggers a whole new line of kindness dominoes that spread out to infinity. Maybe it only makes me feel as if I still have a semblance of control in a world gone wild.

Whatever it sparks for anyone else, the small acts of kindness I've seen and participated in over the past few weeks have renewed my faith in the human spirit. And I hope I'm able to keep that light of kindness burning for the people around me.

Kristina Knight