I was listening to CBC Radio while driving to Toronto this afternoon. I was hoping for a good human interest story … and I found one. A woman was being interviewed about a remarkable kindergarten moment. As she talked, I could hear tears in her voice.
One little girl had shown up in the morning wearing her top backwards. Some kid laughed at her. The teacher was right on it and gently reproved the laugher. The target human being, however, was very sad. At this point, I guess the teacher had decided to carry on and leave the messiness behind. But one child had another idea. I can’t remember if it was a he or a she but the child removed their top and put it on backwards. And then lots of other kids followed suit. “I didn’t want her to be sad.”
My eyes moistened. The interviewer was just about overcome. And I imagined thousands of listeners reaching for their Kleenex. Oh, what power a five-year-old can have.
And then …
I was walking along Lawrence Avenue, a main street in Toronto. A taxi came out of a side street and pulled right up to the intersection so the driver could see the traffic on Lawrence before turning right. I jogged a bit left and walked behind the car. As I headed back to the sidewalk, the fellow behind the wheel called out to me:
“Sorry for blocking your path!” He wore a big smile.
“That’s all right. You couldn’t see.”
So much for the stereotype of Toronto drivers being discourteous. I was stunned and so thankful for his friendliness. It was a privilege to be in his presence.
Now I’m looking for kindness number three. I’m not going to force it. If no wave of goodness comes my way before I lay me down to sleep, so be it. I won’t twist my reality to line up with the title of this piece. Think I’ll head to Tim Hortons for coffee and see what beckons.
Okay, now I’m on the subway, gently seeking kind behaviour. But seeking isn’t it. By grace will it come my way … or not. I’ll just wait.
Minutes ago, I looked to my right on the train. A fat guy is two seats away, leaning over. His eyes are closed … and he’s yelling. Pointing his finger at something. I can’t make out what he’s saying. I’m too scared to say anything in the realm of “Are you all right?” I shut my eyes.
I think of the classic Buddhist phrases of care:
May you be free from danger
May you be happy
May you be healthy
May you live with ease
And I sent them his way. Soon it was just one: “May you be happy.” The gentleman keeps yelling, still with eyes closed. Here’s my stop. “Goodbye, dear one.”