Kindness Rocks

I’ve been thinking a lot about kindness lately. It seems to have taken up residence in my heart; on a daily basis I am covered in kindness, cloaked in kindness, lifted up in kindness.

My sisters. My husband. My parents. My in laws. My tribe. My manager and coworkers. My neighbors. Facebook friends. Strangers.

It is really something.

The other day my mom reminded me of a story about Isaac’s kindness, after the recipient of his extreme kindness told my dad the story. 

It was a few summers ago. It was a hot day and Isaac was driving and saw Mr Andy Micham working at Lockhart Field. He went to the gas station and bought a bottle of water and a can of coke and took them to him because he thought he could use the refreshment and also he wanted to thank him for working so hard on the fields Isaac and his teammates played on.

When Isaac told me he did this, because I asked him about his day, I cried. I was so proud but I was also utterly hammered with awe, for this beautiful boy & his beautiful soul. Andy told me later that no one had ever done that in all his years as a caretaker. He was touched deeply as well.

There’s a lifetime of stories I could tell you about Isaac’s sweet heart and how much it made my own heart grow. This one in particular 

It takes very little to show up in each other’s lives with random acts of kindness. And yet those small acts do more than just make someone’s day; they give you a legacy, even if that has nothing to do with your motivation.

Isaac’s legacy continues to shine on. I still receive messages regularly from people who’s lives were blessed by him. 

All of you who show me & others kindness, inspire me to find my own small ways of passing it on. 

Thank you for your attentiveness to my fragile heart and to all who need your kindness in their lives. Your kindness rocks!

Published by: christinaryanstoltz

I write to touch the supple center of unguarded ache~ To release myself from the pressure of not knowing how to move forward from the unfathomable loss of my beloved son, my beautiful boy Isaac, to suicide, of not knowing how to release my grip on of the past, both the worshipping of it as well as the beating myself up for it, and letting go of the need to know what I could’ve done or what on earth I will do now. I write to heal.

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