Jimmy lost a drill bit this morning. I was trying to help him find it, and I thought the gravel driveway was a good place to start. I walked slowly, one foot in front of the other, my head down, looking for a tiny piece of metal. It was a good diversion from the sadness of another morning in my mother’s hastening decline.
Then I heard a little voice behind me.
Hey Cheryl!
I looked around and saw my neighbor buddy Mia bounding across her yard, her hair flying in the morning breeze. She was carrying a brown craft paper shopping bag.
I have something for you guys.
She stopped and pulled out this little plush bunny rabbit and gave it to me.
This is for Duncan.
Awwww, that’s so sweet! Now, Duncan will chew it. Are you okay with that?
Oh yeah.
Then she pulled something else out of the bag: this corgi soft toy, red and white, the same colors as our Duncan.
Oh Mia! It’s just like Duncan! Where did you get this?
She smiled at me and replied, I got it for Christmas.
I almost cried right in front of her. I’ve needed a good, long cry for a good, long time. But the medication Buspirone keeps most of the tears walled back inside of me, until the day it’s okay to let them out.
Dear Mia was giving me her “Duncan Dog” that she had gotten for Christmas last year. I thanked her and told her we loved her. She smiled and ran back across her yard toward her house, shopping bag in hand.
This isn’t the first time our eight-year-old neighbor has reached out to me when I needed it with a gesture of joyous, natural kindness. After our corgi Ariel died last April, I was out in our backyard, slogging through chores and trying to fight the weight of a thousand pounds of grief. Mia came out to get on her tree swing and called out, “Hi Cheryl!” It was music to my soul, and it lifted me out of the heaviness.
I sent her a thank you note, letting her know that I’d been feeling really sad and that her greeting made my heart happy. I wanted her to know that her kindness touched me, stayed with me and changed the course of my day.
Mia has a gift. She is walking, talking sunshine and a naturally kind little girl. And she seems to know exactly when people need that kindness. Call it empathy. Call it intuition. Call it good parenting. It’s amazing, and she is a blessing in our lives.
My mom’s kitchen is filled with examples of Mia’s kindness. Recently her mother, Stacey, took her to the dollar store to get supplies to make a fairy garden. While she was there, she got these little resin birds for us.
She asked me which one would be Jimmy’s and which one I would make my own. I chose the cardinal for Jimmy and the bluebird for me. Mia agreed because she knows how much I love bluebirds. I have the bird figurines on a cabinet in the kitchen so I can see them every day, along with the many drawings Mia has made for us.
A few weeks ago, Stacey texted me that Mia had something for me. I met her in the driveway and she gave me this booklet she had made for me while she was at her Gram’s after school.
When I read “You are beautiful,” every negative emotion that I’d been holding onto that day drifted away and ceased to exist. My heart was full with the balm of Mia’s kindness.
You see a lot out there about kindness these days. T-shirts with “Be Kind” screaming on the front of them. The message strikes me as really preachy. Signs in the waiting room at the veterinarian’s office that beg people to be kind to the staff. I guess these are needed now because people have forgotten how to behave, especially under stress.
If you have to put a message about kindness on a t-shirt or a sign in a waiting room, it says to me that kindness is quickly becoming a lost art. The sign at the vet’s office may get a few people to act like adults. But I doubt those preachy t-shirts do anything to get people to show kindness. You either have it or you don’t.
Mia has it. She has it in her heart and soul and is not afraid to show it. In fact, at her young age, she knows that true kindness is a spontaneous act that gives life when you give it away.
Kindness doesn’t come from an edict on a t-shirt. It springs from our hearts, unfettered, unconditional, unafraid.
I often wonder about the path that Mia will choose as an adult. I have such hope for this rare and special little person. For now, I am just grateful every day that she lives next door to us and somehow knows when my heart needs her unique gift.
Comments