Me And My Little Owl…

My daughter Sarah brought me home a gift from her trip to Cocoa Beach, Florida.  The gift is an owl charm that is meant to hang in your vehicle.  It has pretty colored beads and says “kindness matters” on it.   She got it for me because she knows I like owls and believe that kindness really does matter.

I like my little owl – it is very cute and well-placed on my rear-view mirror.  As it gently sways back and forth while I am driving, I am reminded that kindness comes in many forms. Sometimes it is an outward act that is intended to help someone. Sometimes kindness is evidenced in the lack of an outward act.  Sometimes kindness is just having patience.

How apropos that the little owl that reminds me of kindness should sway there as I go about my daily driving.  It is perfectly situated to remind me to deliver kindness to other drivers – even if it is only by refraining from complaining about their driving or cussing about their texting within the confines of my car.  Because kindness doesn’t need to be acknowledged to be valuable.  Kindness also matters because we realize that kindness is a function of our humanity.  In acts of kindness we extend ourselves to others in ways big and small…in ways that show we are capable of care and compassion.

I do not think Sarah fully appreciated how powerful the little owl would be, but isn’t that the way kindness so often plays out?  Even the smallest of kindnesses given can result in an unexpected level of appreciation from the recipient.  The kindness of the little owl will be paid forward and serve as a reminder that there is room for kindness with all people in all places – even if no one else realizes you are being kind.  The point is you know – and that matters.

Day one thousand three hundred and twenty-three of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

2 Responses

  1. tim haering

    I think I blew a chance at kindness today. I was taking a photo of his apartment, pursuant to a bedbug infestation, and he was concerned that folks would think his apartment was messy. He wished I had given him time to straighten up. “You don’t think it looks messy do you?” he asked.

    With barely 2 feet of floor space, I could have given him a week to move things around and it would all have still been in the picture. And this was after he’d removed some infested furniture. His apartment had never looked better. “Honestly, Bart,” I said, “IT always looks messy in here.”

    “But it’s clean, right?” he bobbed sharply. So dull and turgid, he would have been easy to pop again, because, no, it’s slovenly, the dirt has dirt. But I’ve seen worse, so I said, “Sure, you got that. There’s just so much stuff.”

    Pants ablaze, I left. Hope my aloe isn’t dead. I haven’t watered it in a while. More failed kindness. Today was a failure in that respect. At least I have room for improvement.

  2. tim haering

    Oh, Ms. C, I love owls. Super year for Snowies, I hear. YOurs looks like a Hoot. Makes me wonder how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie-roll center of a Tootsie Pop.

    All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

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