Kindness is needed

Random Acts of Kindness Blog Fest

 

Standing in a long queue at the pharmacy is always stressful.  It often seemed to Nancy as she needed medication for shingles and was at the end of an emotional tether, all the people ahead of her needed so much. 

Some needed translations into Spanish.  Some needed calls made to their doctors.  Some elderly people needed a multitude of help.

Source: COBRA Soft

Nancy needed to return home; shingles was eating up any energy she had.  But she would not give up her spot in the line, since she was the next person up, after a frail old woman finished talking with the pharmacy technician.  Nancy gritted her teeth, and then overheard the old woman speaking.

“That much?  It costs that much?”  She opened her wallet.  “I don’t have enough…I guess I will have to wait until next week to pick this prescription up…”

Source: bies

The technician explained to her that the doctor said she needed to start taking this prescription today.  The woman stepped away and said she would have to think about what she could give up today, so she could buy the medicine.

Nancy took her place in front of the technician.  Impulsively, Nancy leaned in and whispered, “How much does that woman need to pay for that prescription?”

The technician hesitated, but leaned forward and whispered, “About fifteen dollars.” 

Nancy checked her purse.  She had a five, three ones, and one twenty dollar bill.  She pulled out the twenty.  “Here…I’ll pay for her prescription, but you can’t tell her who gave the money.”

Surprised, the technician took the money.  As Nancy left the counter and walked through the store, she heard the elderly woman called over the speaker.  Then she heard the woman exclaim.  Relief was in her voice.

Nancy smiled.  She needed to hear that.

This is a true story.  I was there.  With my shingles.

 

The Writer Within

 

 When the town’s beloved, elderly, and feisty Lucy Powell died suddenly at age 95, all wondered how to peer into her belongings.  

Miss Powell had no relatives yet alive and no family to inherit a lifetime of her history.  Her family was her community and friends.

Slowly, close friends began to assimilate bits of China, old books, quilts, and other items into their own homes.  That was when the diary was discovered. Who should take it?  Who should even open it?

A diary can paint a picture of unrequited love with hearts broken, hearts renewed, and love lost then found. Finding a worn diary, fringed from fingers turning pages over decades, awed all who gathered around.

Finally, Old Ms Alda Franklin stepped forward.  I will take it.  She and I shared so many memories… All agreed.

 

When Alda finally settled down into her rocker with a cup of tea, she opened the cover and began reading each page. She chuckled, cried, gasped, and sighed until she read the last page:

 

My life had meaning and gave me reason to exist.  Touching others, being kind and generous, loving those who are unloved: that is the essence of life.

   

To all who turn these pages: Go!  Make your life count! 

 Journals paint lives in ways that simple words cannot. When we moved, I unpacked 10 family complete diaries and a few not so complete. The bold underlined words are from Wednesday Words, 2015.  Delores started this challenge for bloggers to try other genres. Please go to these marvelous sites:  

 

                             River  and  Elephant's child

 

 

 

Fred in the coffee shop

Heavy silence fell when an elderly man with a cane came in to buy a coffee.  The customers in Rick’s Coffee remembered him well.  Oh yes, they remembered him.

He called himself “Fred”, but no one ever knew his true identity.  An air of inaccessibility surrounded him, which was just the way Fred liked it.  All that anyone knew was that Fred was superb at tracking. Did something like that in his military days. Animals or people, Fred was on their trail while foot prints were still wet.

Some said Fred could find a mosquito hiding in a free standing rotting tree, during a raging sand storm. Yup. Fred was a different man then. Now he was a man with a cane

 

When “Fred” left, walking slowly with his cane, all exhaled. They had not wanted a repeat of the last time he came for coffee. It was horrific.

No.  They did not want that to happen again, but it would. 

 

 

The italicized underlined Wednesday words are courtesy of River, who was handed the baton from Wed. Words writing challenges, Delores from Under the Porch light. This post is from 2015, along with the sentence prompt. 

The italicized underlined Wednesday words are courtesy of River, who was handed the baton from Wed. Words writing challenges, Delores from Under the Porch light. This post is from 2015, along with the sentence prompt. 

Stumbling Stones frozen

 
Throughout the decades of our life together, we had always said Let's go to Rome someday. Our answers were When the kids are older.

Then as time went by and our progeny left home, we said again, Let's go to Rome someday. Our answers were We have to save up for retirement. AND we can't get off from work.

Then after these excuses we eliminated, Let's go to Rome now. Does May sound good to you? Retirement with wise investments and inheritance from our mothers allowed us to do that.

We took the leap, found ourselves on a bus tour with 40 other retirees, having an awesome time. 

Leading to Sistine Chapel

On two days we were on our own explorations.  Everywhere we turned along old winding streets, we were amazed to see local churches. Small churches were tucked in at corners and looked unimpressive.


But each one was filled will their own grandeur, well-used by parishioners. The kneeling rails showed decades of prayers. We were utterly humbled.

 

A small church tucked in a tiny street. I slipped
down a step, but only my
pride hurt.

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

However, this post is not about all the crazy amazing historical splendid sites that could merit days and days of exploration all by themselves.    

This post is about the little things.

 

 

 

 

This is from the Jewish Ghetto.

Now, instead of looking up at the gilded and amazing ceiling paintings, I found myself gazing down.  Looking down at the cobblestones, I discovered shiny gold bronze plaques embedded within a sea of gray. Looking closer, bending over, I gasped as I read the engraved names and dates.

The left one reads (with difficulty, given its wear and probably misspelled): 

Qui Abitava

Dora Fiatelli

Nata 1887

Arrestata 15.3.1943

Auschwitz

Morta 1.7.1944

Can you read them? Enlarge and see these "stumbling stones" as they are called.

These can be found throughout Europe.

Life is about the big and the little bits throughout history.  It is easy to see the big grandeur and  amazing epic bits.

But for me, turning a stone over and finding the magnificent there, this is the way I am.  Looking down, as well as up, grants a picture of time and people. Sadly this all that remains of those people.

Our someday has become someday we will return and learn more.

 ****

 

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Troubles led her to bow out, but the meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast. With Elephant's Child  and other blogger volunteers, Mother Owl's we will find the challenges. Underlined words are of the words available. Let yourself go.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind. My difficulty is using words that were just released. Grant me some forgiveness, greatness cannot be hurried.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words. Head on over to play with words

 

 

To Live Is to Have Meaning.

 

                                                                        Pinterest

When the town’s beloved, elderly, and feisty Lucy Powell died suddenly at age 95, all wondered how to peer into her belongings.  Miss Powell had no relatives yet alive and no family to inherit a lifetime of her history.  Her family was her community and friends.

Slowly, close friends began to assimilate bits of China, old books, quilts, and other items into their own homes.  That was when the diary was discovered. Who should take it?  Who should even open it?

A diary can paint a picture of unrequited love with hearts broken, hearts renewed, and love lost then found. Finding a worn diary, fringed from fingers turning pages over decades, awed all who gathered around.

Finally, Old Ms Alda Franklin stepped forward.  I will take it.  She and I shared so many memories… All agreed.

When Alda settled down into her rocker with a cup of tea, she opened the cover and began reading each page. She chuckled, cried, gasped, and sighed until she read the last page:

My life had meaning and gave me reason to exist.  Touching others, being kind and generous, loving those who are unloved: that is the essence of life.

To all who turn these pages: Go!  Make your life count!

Source

This is a re-post 2015, underlined bold words are from Wednesday Words, a site that offers word or photo prompts. Delores, we miss you.