Uncelebrated Heroes

` –by Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/31/2025)

A recent holiday music special honored a family who opened their home to over 100 children who were homeless, hungry, and in need of family. Their message was simple and frank: we should live our lives with kindness and service, and show love to others. Their work grew exponentially, and the organization now has served thousands of kids. It was a story I had not heard, and but for the television show, I would have been unaware of that selfless and heart-warming service to others.

While running errands, I experienced other stories of people simply being kind and generous, often setting aside their own judgments and conclusions, and just doing the right thing, doing something good for the simple reason of just being a good person. While waiting at the checkout line at the grocery store, I saw one customer help out another customer who was short on funds for their groceries, simply handing the clerk their credit card, and asking them to pay the bill in full. The grateful customer, about to cry, started to refuse, but the other customer insisted, and gave them a big smile. The rest of us had wet faces, too, our hearts touched by this simple and generous act of the Christmas spirit.

No big public thanks or applause, just being quietly generous and kind. And, teaching and reminding all of us the reason for the season. That experience was my best Christmas present. It was a great community sermon, not needing any of us to go to church or open a hymnal. The sermon seemed to write itself.

That work of kindness and generosity is commonplace in my community, and usually goes uncelebrated. Generous folks tend to want to be anonymous in their good deeds. As Joyce Vance says, “Do the right thing, for the right reason, in the right way.”

“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” — Jane Goodall.

Such kindnesses occur year-round in this small town. I’ve known of foster parents who will take in a child in the middle of the night, because it is the right thing to do, and being available to a kid has a huge impact on a child’s life. I’ve been a foster parent too (well, it is a lifetime title), and the benefits are widespread and lifechanging. We can all make a difference in a child’s life, in many ways.

The local Chamber of Commerce is preparing to select and honor an annual Citizen of the Year, and I’m sure they will find a solid list of highly qualified nominees. Yet, the list is long of good people, kind, charitable folks who give selflessly, and with only the expectation of being of service to someone in need. Such generosity is commonplace, and I am often guilty of taking that generosity for granted. “It is just who we are.” Well, yes, but that work is special, and has a message of sacredness and honor that we sometimes forget to recognize and honor. We need to celebrate that, and not take it for granted.

It is almost New Year’s Day, a time to make some resolutions and to take stock of where we have been and where we are going. As Angela Davis reminds us, “Choose what we can change. I’m no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I’m changing the things I cannot accept.”

My New Book! Recharging Ourselves: Strengthening Our Community Through Kindness

My new book, Recharging Ourselves: Strengthening Our Community Through Kindness, is now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

We are all builders and architects of community. By telling our stories and the stories of our neighbors, we explore our community’s strengths and the tools to improve everyone’s lives. This collection of essays and stories celebrates rural America in the 21st century, and digs into the challenges we face. These essays also celebrate where we have come from and how we are going to further build our communities, inspire our youth and collaborate for a brighter, healthier future.

The book is an exploration of community life in rural America, examining mentoring, volunteerism, community action, relationships, nature, and education. I look at community life through the lens of civic engagement and empowerment of individuals to change community values and institutions. We are the forces for change. By telling our stories, and encouraging others to tell their stories, we come together, we become the builders and educators, the leaders for meaningful change.

From Catastrophe to Opportunity

By Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 3/11/2025)

Often, a disaster turns into a positive asset, and life improves, comes into focus, and good things emerge from the gray somber atmosphere of disaster.

Such change comes unexpectedly.

The Chinese character for catastrophe is the same character for opportunity.

There was a time in college that I had lost direction, adrift despite the abundance of good opportunities and challenges from my professors and fellow students. I was adapting well, mastering my subjects and, at least outwardly, achieving great strides in my abilities and my knowledge of my favorite subjects.

Yet, I was adrift, often wondering what I was doing there, and what direction I needed to take. There were a lot of possibilities, but I didn’t have a good sense of what was right for me. Everyone around me seemed content, hard at work, and feeling directed and motivated. Maybe I needed to take a term off, get a job, and get my act together, stop spinning my wheels.

During one Christmas break, one of my aunts suddenly died. We were all in shock, as she had been healthy, vigorous in her retirement, and embracing her passion for botany and nature conservation. Her heart attack on a hiking trail doing what she loved left all of us feeling lost, shook up.

She lived far away from me, but would visit several times a year, telling stories of her adventures and always bringing a special book for me. When I was little, she’d read to me, animating the story with her voice, her laughter, and her passion for kids. We’d have great conversations, she being a vocal advocate for education, reading, and bettering the community. “Being of service” was the theme of a lot of our conversations and letters.

Her sudden passing brought my “lost in college” questions to the forefront. I recalled her wise counsel, her urgings to me to make a difference, and do something in life. Reminiscing about her life and her messages to me brought my dilemma into sharp focus, giving me impetus to regroup, to rethink my intentions of why I was in college, and what I was doing with my life.

Mourning her death, and celebrating her life woke me up. I applied that grief into fuel to regroup, to have a serious talk with myself, and strive to make a difference in my life. There were some hard lessons on not realizing the value of a person in your life until they are gone. Having my aunt in my life made a big difference in my own life, and I resolved to continue her presence, her message in my life, and our relationship.

Her funeral was on the day I went back to college, to start winter term. The eulogies, and the story telling among family recharged me, and I began the new year and the new term with a revitalized focus, looking for possibilities and opportunities. I felt her spirit and vowed to remember her with my own zeal for making a difference.

Recently, a good friend passed away, and again I am shaken by this loss, this departing of a mentor, whose wisdom and talent were bright lights in my life. We’d met for lunch a year ago, telling stories, laughing, and, true to her form, mentoring me and calling me out to refocus and regroup. She’d plant seeds with me, giving me story ideas and action items, sometimes acting with such subtlety that I didn’t realize that her seeds were even in my garden. She was a master of “guerrilla gardening”.

She was a writer, capturing the joys and treasures in ordinary life, always aiming at celebrating the community she loved and cared for. She wrote about simple things, events and happenings, but always with an ear for the deeper message, the profound experiences of friendships and listening to our souls.

She was blunt, open, honest, and passionately cared about people. Her stories of daily life were much more than a casual observation. They were deep and profound, and the reader was often gently lured into her observations, not always expecting the strong message she had set out to convey. She got her point across, with love and humor, but also with a depth and intensity you didn’t notice until you came to the end of her writing.

There were many gifts in her writings and in our conversations. She was a literary craftsman, with a big heart. Kindness was her mantra.

My friend and my aunt would have been dear friends, soul mates, and I imagine they would find much to laugh about and comment on. My sorrow for missing my aunt is rekindled by my friend’s passing. I’m reminded that out of catastrophe comes opportunity.

In my grief, there is renewal, there is new hunger for opportunity, for change, growth, betterment. My aunt and my friend are still there for me, still offering their gifts, and their love, still teaching me, still changing the world.

3/11/2025

The Kindness of Strangers

By Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/29/2024)

“Every time you do a good deed, you shine the light a little farther into the dark,” — Charles DeLint.

My world recently brightened up, all due to the kindness of a stranger, a hard-working and talented government worker. I needed a particular certification from a state agency, and the process compelled me to sign up for a three-hour class and an exam, as well as filling out the application on line.

I plunged into the process, my day otherwise quiet, a time between holidays, the weather wet and windy. I needed to set up an account, a user name, and a password, and then begin my online classes. Yet, the program didn’t let me access the classes or even get into my new account. The process involved a variety of security questions and complex passwords, a not unfamiliar pattern in this age of technology and “convenient, efficient” computerization of what used to be dealing with paper applications. As we all know, “convenient” is a relative term.

Finally, after an hour of frustration, I e-mailed the agency and soon received a helpful response. Still, I kept hitting a brick wall and wrote another e-mail, seeking some more direction and guidance. In a few minutes, my phone rang and a courteous worker, who soon became my guiding angel, took me by the virtual hand and walked me through the process.

It seems that the software platform also drove the agency’s workers nuts, and my plight was a common malady of the “new and improved” version of the software. We changed browsers, which sped up the process, and hand-copied my password. It seems the new and improved software, if left to its own devices, would delete my password and insert one of my answers to a security question, guaranteeing failure and no access. My angel helped me work around that disaster, and I soon was able to access the three hours of online classes.

When it came to finalize the completion of the classes and move on to the formal application for the desired certification and the qualifying exam, the last module of the class speedily identified the new web page link I was to go to, (information I couldn’t copy) but didn’t provide a button for the link, leaving me stranded in cyberspace. Nowhere in the module was an easy route to move ahead.

Yet another e-mail to my guiding angel quickly produced another work around, going back to the agency’s website and saying a forever goodbye to the private vendor’s online classes and module. With new directions and guidance, I was able to quickly access the application process and exam, and take and pass the exam with a 100% grade. This brought a cheer of jubilation and a happy dance around the dining room table and my laptop. My printer soon cranked out the desired certification. Success! My seven hours of labor finally came to an end.

It seems that this snafu is the norm, and the agency’s staff complaints are being echoed by applicants from the public. My e-mail of gratitude was forwarded to my angel’s supervisor, and my angel applauded my plan to write to the agency’s director. Enough is enough.

In this busy season, we all tend to be in a hurry and to experience glitches and irritating problems. Yet, I’ve seen many guiding angels at work, taking on and solving problems, calming crises, and bringing smiles again to irritated and frustrated customers and workers alike. Rules are often bent, protocols shortened, and people are helped on their way with a smile and a handshake.

Yes, there are joymakers and wish granters out and about this holiday season. But there are also the problem-solvers, the solution finders who are able to turn disaster and sometimes downright outrage, into a smooth and efficient process, taking on technology and lighting the candles of salvation and answers. It is to them that I give thanks during the holidays, the people with patience and the ability to get me to take a breath, to find the answers, and work my way through the perils of a “more efficient, convenient” process of getting the work done.

I’m working on my letter of complaint to the head of the agency, planning to lament about nearly impossible and unresponsive software. But, I’m also going to praise my guiding angel, who took the time and had the patience to transform my grousing and kvetching, my irritation and developing rage, into a satisfied customer and a successful applicant. That angel gets the gold stars this holiday season. They are my Santa Claus and Good Fairy Mother.

12/28/2024

Through the Eyes of a Child

by Neal Lemery

published 2/1/2023 in the Tillamook County Pioneer

“Through the eyes of a child you will see the world as it should be.” –Anonymous

In recent days, I’ve experienced the simple joys of being around several kids who have been fully engaged in simply enjoying life, with simplicity and without condition.

I visited some friends and thought I should bring a present to their two year old. While buying a bouquet of flowers for the parents, I spied a stuffed puppy, its cuddliness capturing my heart and appealing to my desire to bring some joy into the world. The day’s news had been the typical fare for our times, and matched the grayness of the January sky.

I wondered if I was really buying the stuffed animal for the child, or for the child inside of me.

We adults had a good visit, discussing the day’s news as well as our reasons to be optimistic about the unfolding of the new year. Yet, our attention was pleasantly diverted to the antics of their child, whose giggles and smiles filled their home with the simple joy of the toy, and our collective sounds of what we thought a barking puppy might sound like. The child’s laughter was perhaps all about the joy with the toy, but more likely in response to the funny antics of the adults, obviously inept at being accurate puppy talkers.

We adults should practice our animal noises more often, and laugh more, too. We need to take some daily lessons with children, who seem to effortlessly find simply joys in the simple pleasures of life, in the sharing of laughter and funny noises, cuddly stuffed puppies and shiny toy cars.

This morning, while sipping my coffee at the neighborhood coffee shop, I was being serious, trying to concentrate on writing something meaningful in response to today’s deluge of politics, mass shootings, and other ugliness. Again, a child reminded me of the simple joys if one just pays attention to an opportunity.

A toddler squealed with delight, as he repeatedly tossed a toy car on the linoleum, making a noisy clattering. A few times, the toy bounced off my shoes, and I’d slide it back to him. He’d catch it a few times, but mostly, he’d toss it and it skittered along the floor to the delight of the child. I found myself chuckling, joined by others watching the fun.

His parents spoke to me, worried that his antics were bothering me. Yet the simple joy in his eyes and his squeals of laughter brightened the morning. I decided I needed more of childish joy in my day, rather than perusing the day’s news and commentary. Perhaps the real news of the day is that life is fun and there can be instantaneous joy in ordinary things.

These few sweet and precious moments, freely given to me by the youngest generation, was a gentle, yet persistent reminder that life is both precious and beautiful, that we need to pause and be less serious and find laughter in the simplest of things. We need to share those moments with everyone, needing to be kids as much as possible. We should play with our toys and make new friends.

2/1/2023

Guerrilla Gratitude: Bringing Light Into Our World

by Neal Lemery

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 9/12/2022)

Any act, any kind word, is capable of making a change for the better in our world. Each of us has so many opportunities to make it a better place. A few kind words at the grocery store or post office, a simple act of kindness to help someone along in their day, maybe a cheery note or a phone call. It can all make a difference.

I was in a hurry last week as I came into my favorite coffee shop, intent on getting to work on what I thought was an important project, one that couldn’t wait.

I pulled open the coffee shop door, focused on ordering my coffee. I nearly ran over a woman holding two cups of coffee and looking stressed. I looked behind her, seeing her frail mother, struggling with her cane and trying to keep up with her daughter.

It was time to pause and show a little kindness. I pulled the door fully open and held it for them, letting the woman with the two hands of coffees navigate outside, as she offered her arm to her mother. They shuffled out the door, both of them thanking me, and breaking into smiles. I muttered “no problem,” and smiled back.

It was time for me to take a breath, admire the beauty of the fall day; time for some gratitude. The world had given me an opportunity to be kind, make people happy and take care of the community.

The opportunities continued. A couple had followed me in, seemingly in a hurry to get their coffee and resume their journey. I stepped back, letting them have first place in the queue for the barista. The man gave me a funny look, like I was doing something strange, out of the ordinary.

“No problem,” I said. “I’m taking it easy today.” I repeated the smiles I’d received from the mother and daughter, and felt my day brighten.

He just nodded, likely not knowing how to respond. There was a lesson or two there. At least, a lesson for me, taking time to let things unfold, to be part of an accommodation in someone’s day, making things go easier. But, I got my reward: a nod, perhaps a sense of someone being kind and gracious to them, maybe some reflection on what the day was about.

I’d assumed they were on vacation, which is hopefully a time for some rest, a pause from the routine of daily life, and simply enjoying a sunny fall day in a beautiful place, topped off with some great coffee. The least I could do for them was to be kind.

My coffee shop punch card was filled by my usual order, and I gave it to the barista, asking them to use it to treat the next person who would come through the door. I’ve been reading a book about “guerrilla gardening”, where you surreptitiously add beauty to public space. Perhaps this is “guerrilla gratitude”. We can all be rebels with a cause.

When I checked in at a hospital last week for some lab work, a very kind man gently and efficiently guided me through the process, even walking me over to the lab and then guided me to my next appointment. He was extraordinary. Yet for him, it seemed just an ordinary day, just doing his job. He made my wife and me laugh and feel at ease, as he went about his work. His saintliness was just what I needed, calming my anxiety and frenzy.

Other employees were also extraordinarily kind and helpful, bringing to me an atmosphere of gentleness, welcoming, and professionalism. You could tell they loved their work and were proud of their competence, knowing they were saving lives. It was nice to see that a large organization doing important work appreciated great customer service.

“If you light a lamp for someone else, it will also brighten your path,” said Buddha. We need to be a society of lamplighters, and not keep our compassion and kindness hidden away. It is the treasure we need to share.

Life, real life, a good life, is really about kindness and accommodation and patience. Life is paying it forward, diffusing the crisis of the moment, and quietly getting things done and put in order. The cost is really non-existent. A little time, perhaps a few more minutes spent with someone, some kind words, a few deep breaths, and exuding calmness and service to others. We get that back, at least tenfold, in our lives.

I keep re-experiencing those lessons, and the need to be patient and kind, both on the giving and the receiving parts of life. Such wisdom bears repeating, along with a whole lot of doing, part of “guerrilla gratitude”.

9/12/2022

Quotes That I Have Recently Discovered That Speak to Me

–Neal Lemery

“A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees.”

–Amelia Earhart

“You are not your mistakes. They are what you did, not who you are.”

–Lisa Lieberman Wang

“Be the person who breaks the cycle. If you were judged, choose understanding. If you were rejected, choose acceptance. If you were shamed, choose compassion. Be the person you needed when you were hurting, not the person who hurt you. Vow to be better than what broke you, to heal instead of becoming bitter so you can act from your heart, not your pain.”

–Bright Vibes

“For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down for the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.”

–Mary Oliver

“Learn to be silent. Let your quiet mind listen and absorb.”

–Pythagorus

“To be kind is more important than to be right. Many times what people need is not a brilliant mind that speaks but a special heart that listens.”

–Amazing (Facebook post 8/22)

“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”

–Rumi

“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.”

–Tolstoy

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

–Margaret Mead

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.”

–Albert Einstein

“Those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”

–George Bernard Shaw

“Change will not come if we wait for another person. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.”

–Barack Obama

“The world we see today is the world we’ll see tomorrow if we fail to do something now to change the things we don’t like about it.”

–Mayor Deah

‘If you are willing to look at another person’s behavior as a reflection of the stater o relationship with themselves rather than a statement about your value as a person, then you will, over a period of time, cease to react at all.”

–Yogi Bhajan

“A child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.”

–African proverb

“But to rescue a soul is as close as anyone comes to God. Think of Noah lifting a small black bird from its nest. Think of Joseph raising a son that wasn’t his.”

—The Same City, Terrance Hayes

“I look at fatherhood not as biology, but as an emotional and spiritual mission.” –Neal Lemery

8/9/2022

The Old Hay Fork

By Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 2/6/2022)

It was always in the barn, by the loose hay that Grandpa had tossed down from the hay mow, the bales breaking open, one by one, on the old wood floor. Grandpa forked the loose hay into each cow’s feeding trough. The hay dust smelled sweet, filled with the warmth of the summer days when we brought the hay up from the fields.

I knew there was a story about the hay fork, but the telling of that tale was a long time coming.

Back then, before milking parlors, each cow had its own stanchion, where they came in the mornings and the afternoons, getting their hay, a scoop of grain, and a small dollop of molasses. He took turns with the cows, putting on his two electric milking machines, with the milk then cooled by an elaborate milk cooler using water from the spring. The milk ended up in a number of steel milk cans, destined for the creamery a few miles down the road.

Grandpa made sure every cow had some hay, using the fork to move through the barn. He checked on every cow, calling them by name, rubbing their ears as he fed them the hay.

We loaded up the cans in the morning, after the milking, and a big breakfast back at the house, and headed off to the creamery. Grandpa didn’t talk much, but he held his own at the creamery, greeting all the other farmers, catching up on their news, talk about the weather and the price of milk. Everyone there were good friends, and there was no shortage of chatter and a few jokes.

The cows, the way that he milked and ran the farm, even the barn is gone now, after all these years. Not long after I headed off the college, they sold the farm and moved into town. Old age had crept up on him, and he wasn’t able to take care of his cows. The old ways of farming weren’t paying the bills anymore. A young man bought the farm, grateful for Grandpa’s advice and being able to take over managing the herd, changing the farm with the times.

Grandma and Grandpa moved into town, settling into a little apartment. We all helped them move, but the apartment only could hold a few items of furniture, including Grandma’s antique writing desk and glass-fronted case for all the family treasures. Grandma made sure that the desk was the first thing that was moved. All of Grandpa’s tools stayed behind.

On the last trip, Grandpa showed up at the pickup I was driving. The old hay fork was in his hands.

“I want you to have this,” he said. “Remember the farm, the good times we had, the cows.”

A tear rolled down his cheek, and I couldn’t find any words to say thanks. I gave him a big hug, and he got in the passenger seat. On the drive into town, we didn’t say much.

We normally didn’t. He wasn’t a man of words, and what can you say when a man is leaving his lifelong career, his whole way of life.

I asked him about the hay fork, how long he’d had it, how did he get it. He looked away, seeming to check out the farms along the way, looking at their cows, and the state of the pastures.

Finally, he started to tell me about a good friend of his, an old Swiss farmer. He had made the fork from the small forge and iron shop he had on his farm. He’d had a good piece of oak that he had pared down, to make the perfect handle, and the right snug fit of the handle of the iron, joining the oak to the iron, inserting a small rivet through the iron handle, into the wood. Everything about the fork was sturdy, functional, precise.

The farmer had given Grandpa the fork, refusing to take money for it, telling Grandpa it was a gift, a thank you for his friendship and advice over the years.

It was the perfect hay fork, just three tines, and somewhat small. Just the right size to grab the right amount of hay for each cow as they came into the barn for milking.

Once a year, Grandpa put a coating of linseed oil on the handle, letting it soak in. He’d oil the fork, too, making sure it wouldn’t get rusty. He always took good care of his tools, spending some time every week checking his equipment, making sure everything was in top condition.

It seemed he was always teaching me whenever I’d go to the farm for a visit, and a day or two of helping out. I’m not sure how much help I was, but he always had some chores for me. There was always a lesson. Good times, that old farmer and me.

He’d been in the war. It was the war three wars before the war that was going on when I was growing up. No one talked much about Grandpa’s war, especially Grandpa. I’d wondered about that, but no one in the family seemed to know.

He’d shown up after that war was over, looking for work, and Grandma’s dad hired him on to help out. He and Grandma fell in love, and they came to take over the farm after Great-granddad died.

I was the youngest grandson, so he and I had the farm all to ourselves when I showed up to visit. I was a curious sort, so one day I asked him about the war, and how he came to be here, so far from his childhood home, and his family’s farm. To my surprise, he started to talk, just one story that first time. But, as I kept showing up, he’d talk more, but only when we were alone, working in the barn, or out in the pasture, mending fence or driving the cows in for milking, or when we’d drive into town to deliver the milk.

The stories were sad, and brave, stories that never were told at school or in the history books I’d read. I thought he was a hero, one of the bravest men I knew, but he didn’t think so. It was just his life, just the way things were. Those times were in the past, happened a long time ago, and no one would be interested in them.

I’d wondered why he was always so nice to the neighbors, and the young farmers just getting started, sometimes lending them a tool, or taking his tractor over to their place, and working their land for a day; all without getting paid. He’d get upset if someone offered to pay him for the work, or the use of a tool, or his tractor. He’d just respond that he was a neighbor, and that’s what neighbors do.

I didn’t write down his stories, and I didn’t share them with the rest of the family. I knew Grandpa was a private, humble person, who didn’t want to brag, or even let on what he’d experienced, and what he knew about people, and wars, and the evils of being selfish and prideful.

I still have that fork. It stands in a place of honor with my other garden tools. I’m not a farmer, and I don’t have any hay to feed to any cows, but I still use my fork. I have enough land to care for that I have a burn pile, brush and prunings that pile up that need to get burned once in a while. I bring out my fork, and use it to stack the brush and rearrange all the debris once the fire gets started.

Grandpa did that too, using the fork on his burn piles, putting things in order, taking care, keeping his farm neat and tidy.

Every year, I still find a rag and some linseed oil, and take care of my tools, making sure Grandpa’s fork is first in line. I feel him next to me at those times, looking after me, checking my work, ready to offer me a hand on my shoulder, or a laugh at a shared joke. His gentle, neighborly ways seem part of my life now, lessons taught well and learned deeply. His gifts go deep with me, far-reaching, lifelong. This week, I started a fire on my burn pile. I picked up his fork, tending my fire, taking care of the land, being the grandson. I remembered him and all that he taught me about kindness, neighbors, and life. I’ve tried to carry all that on, to the next generation, to teach others what Grandpa taught me on his farm.

1/30/2022

A Small Act of Kindness

— Neal Lemery

“Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the knowledge that one day, someone will do the same for you.” — Princess Diana

The day often offers so many opportunities to be kind, with only a few moments, a few kind words, a charitable act. The occasion offers such potential to ease someone’s burdens, to be a messenger of joy and compassion, to be simply human with each other.

I find myself getting caught up in my to do list, my errands. I become caught up into the American behaviors of rushing through the day, being abrupt, and not engaging with others on a human level. Yes, I can check off my list, and feel a sense of accomplishment, but I often leave my humanity and the humanity of others often neglected, pushed aside by feeling obsessed with getting my work done.

The other day, I was part of a simple business transaction, paying a craftsman for his labor. He was meticulous, professional, and took pride in his work, which I realized was heartfelt and respectable. I took time to thank him, and handed him a check, with a generous tip. My wife asked him about his young son, asking to see a photo. For the next few minutes, we all oohed and awed over the cuteness of the photos and a sweet video that expressed his contagious laugh, the two-year old being exuberant about life and the simple joys in life that a two-year old can so easily spontaneously express. The interaction became a celebration of life and parenthood, and the joys that a small child can bring to the world.

I was thankful that my wife and the craftsman were patient with me, and took the time to pause and celebrate the joys of parenthood. I was again reminded that life is sweet and simply joys need to be shared and enjoyed.

The barista at the coffee shop drive-through always shares her kindness and cheer with me. Her demeanor and courtesy may be a part of her job description, but her good works she shares with her customers are also part of her character, part of her work to enhance the community, and brighten the lives of her customers. Each of us can do that work as we live our lives and interact with others.

The simple acts of kindness, seemingly insignificant at the time, are often the most cherished moments that others experience. The value of what we do in a spur of the moment, without much thought to taking a moment to be kind, can be enormous and widely influential.

Kindness is a two-way street. We often don’t realize that we need to experience a little kindness from others, as well as being the recipient. Our burdens can be heavier than we realize, that we are sometimes lonelier or more needy than we know. While it is “more blessed to give than receive”, and that mindset makes for a better community, we also need to replenish our own “well” of goodness, charity, and kindness. And, in receiving the kindnesses of others, we allow them to find a place to share their love. Allowing others to give to us is also a gift of love. In the sharing lies the fruit of kindnesses.

5/31/2021

Acting with Kindness, at the end of 2020

By Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County (Oregon) Pioneer 12/27/2020_

“A tree is known by its fruits; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.” – St. Basil (329-379 AD)

As the old calendar comes off the wall and the fresh, unmarked calendar of 2021 takes its place, I marvel at all the events written on the old calendar. Most of them are crossed off. This year was the year of the Great Postponement, the year of cancellations and re-dos, of reforming events and projects, to fit the times of contagion, “personal distancing” and self care. And, for most of us, a time of “society care”.

2020 was the year we didn’t plan and we didn’t want. The comfortable, predicable and expected simply didn’t happen, and we had to adjust. The old and familiar changed, and we have had to change with the times, whether we wanted to or not. The inner child, the inner toddler in me wasn’t a happy camper, and my tantrums often played out where others could see what a naughty kid I could be. I’m not alone in all that acting out.

Like most of us, I’ve discovered the satisfaction of having the time to focus inward, to take on and complete home projects, to savor experiences with myself and the people I live with, and to reshape our experiences in the greater community. I’ve grown in many ways, and learned to appreciate the simple pleasures of a safe meeting with friends, a collective effort made possible by technology, and some peace and quiet in nature.

While there have always been angry, selfish outbursts of social rage that are often based upon fear, ignorance, and anxiety, this year that ugliness has been fueled by a collective access to social media, and the often unpenalized human trait to act out and rage in public. This year agitators have thrown the proverbial gasoline on the coals of unrest, frustration and the impotence of not being in charge of our lives. Society is changing, and the change is being forced upon us by the pandemic and the resulting economic and social events. We’ve been asked to adapt and to be tolerant, but that doesn’t mean we like it, or can adapt willingly or with the best interests of the community in our heart.

In all this, there is a renaissance in personal and community kindnesses. Cordiality, compassion and community caretaking have taken on a new importance. Now, I cherish the chat with the barista as I drive through for a cuppa, or have a properly distanced lunch with a friend. Zoom meetings have become a staple of community gatherings. I’ve acquired new skills and have been able to be part of rich conversations from people from around the country. In many ways, we’ve been able to accomplish a lot in virtual gatherings. We are more efficient and more organized, while protecting our health and coping with the absence of “presence” and side conversations.

We are more gentle in our conversations, more apt to express our appreciation, and extend courtesies and patience. Sending thoughtful messages and showing respect for others have enjoyed a new vibrancy. Meeting for coffee seems like a spiritual celebration.

Personal encounters have become special, deserving of my full attention and a mutual exchange of good wishes and small acts of courtesy. Life has slowed down, and I no longer feel compelled to rush through the day’s errands and transactions. I have found that I have time to be kind.

Despite the nastiness of political rhetoric, headlines and the seemingly unending social media posts, we have become kinder. We have realized that kindness matters. The pandemic and the “Great Pause” have given us some mental space to appreciate and celebrate the small things that make life sweeter.

Often, practicing kindness doesn’t get our attention, but it is the undercurrent, the “fuel” of our society. We are all hurting, we are all adjusting, and we all cherish those small, sweet moments where one person does nice things for someone else. This isn’t glamorous, nor does it gather much attention. But, it is the fresh spring breeze that comes at the end of a cold winter, and we are all part of it, the “Great Kindness”. A simple act, kindness, yet so powerful it changes the world.

“What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” — Jane Goodall