I’m often asked what it’s like to be a writer — how I spend my days, how I experience the world. And so I will be sharing occasional essays from the front lines of my writing life. Enjoy!
I am not always kind.
I can be grouchy and not yield to merging traffic. I don’t call my mother as often as I should and don’t always thank supermarket baggers. I kill ants and find flaws in people simply because they are thinner than me. I sometimes turn a blind heart to the plight of war-torn countries whose names I can’t pronounce. I don’t give enough to charity.
Still, I try to be kind, for there is something in the trying that comforts me. It makes me feel I am being a good person and that my good acts matter; trying gives me hope that I am, at least, not ruining someone’s day.
I believe kindness helps us reach higher and wider ground, to see the stars, yes, but also what stands beside us, namely, the people who touch our lives and whose lives we touch. It is kindness that assures our touch is gentle, loving; it is kindness that makes believers of us all.