“Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.” ~ Lao Tzu.

Mother-daughter relationships are complicated.  I have no idea why they have to be, but it is an altogether different vibe from mother-son connection.  Having one daughter and three sons, I learned that early on.  There was a time when I would come home from work (usually after night shift) and would sit at the dining table to decompress by reading the Miami Herald while drinking a cup of ‘Café Vienna’, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. Soon my youngest two (who were only fifteen months apart) would creep over, one would climb into my lap, and the other would squeeze between me and the back of the chair, and lean on me, while sucking his thumb and twirling my hair round his finger (eventually I had a bald patch from that!).  Sooner or later I would just need my space and fling them both across the room begging for some breathing room.  Gradually, they would inch their way right back to me, ignoring my tone and action.  With my daughter, all I had to do was look at her wrong and she wouldn’t talk to me for a week!

My own mother was a prickly sort of person.  Despite having five children of her own, she would often say she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body!  She had high expectations of how children (of all ages) should behave, and let them know it.  She did the same with adults too!  At her funeral, we were happy to hear from people who met her later in life, who recognized But they appreciated her input, her frankness, and recognized that it came from her own sense of duty, of living up to high standards.  As children we were not so appreciative.  We heard criticism, not mentoring.  You had to see through the stern words, it was only later in life that we could see the value in her exhortations. 

My mother was aware that her words were not always appreciated, that she could ‘rub people up’ the wrong way.  When we cleared up her office area after her death, I kept a card she had tacked above her laptop with a poem she had hand copied as a reminder to herself.  It begins “Let me be a little kinder, let me be a little blinder, to the faults of those around me, Let me praise a little more…” She had the author as John Grey, but the Google says Edgar Guest – and as my father would probably pun: ‘Your Guest is as good as mine!’ Whoever wrote it, the words are worth pondering.

The other day we had an encounter with a cashier in a restaurant (although so called, it didn’t scream ‘restaurant’ when you walked in and had to place your order at the counter, then pick up your order when it was ready!). The lady in the chair looked miserable, almost sullen, and offered no friendly ‘can I help you’ or even, ‘there is the menu’.  As we walked away to sit down, both of us commented that she must be in a lot of pain, and deduced that she was at work only because she could not afford not to be.  By seeing her with compassion, kindness, rather than being insulted by her tone, her demeanor, her lack of any kind of customer service, we were unfazed by her attitude, and untroubled by her demeanor.  Just by that simple act of not responding to her apparent meanness we had changed the whole temperature of the exchange.

It is not necessary to know everyone’s story, but we should have an idea that there is a story, and it may be one that horrifies us, or makes us see people differently.  The human race is a story-telling race, and it is through stories that we can develop empathy for those we know nothing about.  And even if there are no written narratives, we have enough imagination to put ourselves in the shoes of others for a moment before rushing to judgement, before making assumptions.

It was after I became a mother that I began to forgive my mother for the whole shopping list of complaints I had about her.  I realized that it is easy to criticize others for the jobs they do.  Anyone who has ever been in a position of leadership has to develop thick skin, as others (after the fact) can tell them everything they did wrong.  Theodore Roosevelt has an excellent passage dedicated to the ‘man in the arena’ who ‘dares greatly’ while the critic, having neither sweated nor bled, looks on and critiques all.  Once I was able to see my mother through a kinder lens, I was able to appreciate the motive behind her comments and realize that she was just as harsh a self-critic, always striving for perfection.  And we all know that is an impossible goal.

Goodness knows it can be hard in this world to stay positive, to be kind, when it seems as if we are encouraged to hate, to look down on, to see division even where none exists.  But perhaps it begins with kindness, kindness to self first, and then others, to change the narrative, to begin the healing. Recently I heard an interview with a former Press Secretary who has written a book on communication.  She was speaking about ‘feedback’, and how valuable it can be, however the way it is received is greatly affected by the way in which it is delivered.  The element of kindness, of interest in a person’s development, changes criticism to mentoring, and thus becomes appreciated.

This Friday morning as I am headed out of town (again! The joys of retirement!) I will try to keep my mother’s poem ringing in my head.  Since this is a road trip, I will try to send out loving, compassionate thoughts to all of the other drivers on the road, in the hopes they will do the same to me!  And if we could all practice kindness, can you imagine the impact on the world? Nations being kinder to each other, to the planet, to all living things? And whether kindness begets love, or love begets kindness, what a wonderful world it would be!

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.