to kindness

This past month was particularly challenging, to say the least, and I’ve been thinking a lot about kindness. And I’ve been thinking about the phrase “To live with more kindness.” To let the brave, long, line of love — love for ourselves and others — propel us towards it. Letting the in-between of uncertainty, and fear, and anxiety, and belief, and hope between what we know and what we might pray — either on the page, at the altar, or at the river — give us hope for our friends, and family, and all we meet. That we may live with more kindness. That we watch when the page begins to turn more pulpit than picnic table. That we watch when we become more pulpit than picnic table. And we return again to expand, instead of contract, our patience.

I believe so strongly in being kind, not only for love’s sake but for life’s. Because this life is all we have, and so much of it is hard and hating of us; hating of a kindness that doesn’t shrink in the face of pain or painful emotions, kindness that insists there’s strength enough to carry each other by community and those we love, even if it’s another step and another step and another step.

I want to say “live with more kindness” and that it’s okay to break in the face of it; that it’s possible to be at peace in the pieces, to be in the kindness of your friends and family, to be in kindness with those who wish you well and are here for you, in the kindness of those who are strong in their love for you. Yes, even when (especially when) it’s hard and difficult and lonely.

Yes, there are people who love you, who will be kind to you, who will be present.