On times of grace and light
I’ve noticed kindness a little more these days. I’m not sure whether I’m just seeing it more than usual, versus something in the air that’s bringing it out of people. ‘Tis the season, after all. And I guess I wish I wasn’t surprised to find it right now, but here I am. At the coffee shop, someone who came in after me let me order before him, even though I had fully accepted that ogling the bakery case would boot me to the back of the line. I’ve seen more drivers obey the order of operations at intersections this month than I have in the past year. I get trail salutations from bikers and hikers alike regardless of how fast we’re each going.
Maybe it’s the unwritten agreement in this town, new to me but here for awhile now. Everywhere I’ve been before this, everyone wanted to be someone important, wanted to be known as a person who lives somewhere notable. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that mentality, I’m not so sure people here care about it as much. I mean sure, many of them commute to those all-important cities, and some of them even run those places. But I get the sense that these residents value their coffee shop conversations as much or more than boardroom meetings. Smiles are more instinctual around these grocery stores, and when someone says the word “community” they might actually know what it means. I doubt there was a collective agreement to care for each other, per se, but there might as well have been, whether it was ratified a year ago or a century before that.
Maybe it’s the winter holidays, one of my favorite times of year, despite me not being religious and generally preferring the warmer seasons. All the calls for charity, the reminders to volunteer, it snaps us out of our self-centered instincts, reinforced by a culture that says we must go through this world alone. Sure, there's frenetic consumerism and keeping up with festive appearances. But there’s also walking in the cold air and strong sun, adventuring to admire glittering lights, drinking warm beverages and indulging in special sweets. The absence of lost loved ones disorients us a little bit or more, and we realize that it’s different this time around than it was before, and yet that’s all the more reason to embrace the season. The slowing and gathering, the traditions and rituals, they’re grounding and revelatory, reminding us of the best of our nature we could embody at any given moment regardless of a holiday.
Maybe it’s just that we’re all tired of waiting for better times to come along at their own pace. At the coffee shop last week, two guys were chatting at a table near me for longer than I had been seated. One of them says, “Maybe tomorrow could be a bad day.” And the other one says, “Yeah, maybe, but I had a good day today.” We hold on to our generosity and goodness for eleven months of the year, then release it all at once in a flurry that blankets December. I wonder what would happen if we welcomed this spirit to walk among us more often, if we held the door for it, discreetly bought its coffee in the drive-thru, embraced it when it arrived unannounced on our doorstep at dinnertime. I know we have the capacity for grace, in the cold months and every other season, and I find proof when I look for it.
The sun’s rays may feel fleeting right now, and stars with children’s names may adorn the fake trees propped up in grocery stores, and sadness may pierce through our hearts without warning, leaving us frozen and hollow. But when each of us lets the shutters on our soul flutter open just enough to let some of the light within shine out to the world, we release more than enough warmth even on the coldest of days, to keep us all going, together.