Nicole J. Phillips
Danette Jensen lives in Goodridge, Minn., about 70 miles from the Canadian border. She and her husband run DJ's K9 Country, a boarding facility with more than 20 kennels and a large training room. I guess you could say Danette is dog crazy. She is certainly an expert in the field. She has a radio show and people call in with their canine quandaries.
I have yet to meet someone who says, "Nope. I'm not a kind person and I have no intention of changing." We might agree that we have a little work to be done in the kindness area, but generally people seem to think they are doing a pretty good job of treating others well. In a study of 100 young people with gang affiliations, the kids rated their level of kindness as "high" and cited evidence such as, "I help my mom carry in the groceries." It's rare when we can both see our deficiencies and are also willing to do the work hard of changing ourselves for the better.
They say there are ties that bind, things that happen in our lives that leave us forever connected and intertwined with others. But what happens when decades begin to deteriorate our communication with those people? As Caryl Kiser from southeastern Ohio shares, those ties not only continue to hold, they grow stronger with each knot of kindness.
FARGO — Our lives often intersect for a reason, but isn't it amazing when we they do, and we actually notice? Two men, one from Twin Valley, Minn., and the other from Loveland, Colo., have never met in person, but their paths crossed 20 years ago, leading to a beautiful act of kindness today. Here is their story: "In October 1998, I was traveling to Colorado for an elk hunt. Each member of our group brought along a significant amount of cash to pay for food, horse rental, licenses, etc.
I was standing in the shower sobbing. With the fan on and the water running, it was the only place in the house I could hide until my torrent of pain had been released. Never before had I needed to expel so many emotional toxins from my system. And never have I needed to again. But back in May of 2015, I was walking through a breast cancer diagnosis, and I was scared.
What feelings arise when you read the name Donald Trump? Does it create a knot in your stomach? Do you feel pride in our president? Or are you feeling numb to politics in general? There is a young woman in my town who is one of the kindest, most gentle people I have ever met. I got to know her several years ago when she was my son's preschool teacher. She has long dark hair and is a stunning beauty, but I would venture to guess that what strikes people first when they meet her is her smile. It's soft and welcoming and holds no air of judgement.
I went to visit a friend in prison a few weeks ago. It was the first time I had been in the belly of a correctional facility since I was a child. Back then, I went with my mom to visit her husband. This time, I got to escort a young friend to see his mom. Two different prisons, one for men and one for women, decades between those experiences, and yet my eyes saw the same thing now that they did when I was a kid: people who just plain look like people.
Every time I talk to my friend Tom, he mentions how kind the people are at the Roger Maris Cancer Center. Valet parking, a lovely receptionist, smiling staff members ... Tom makes it sound a little like the Ritz Carlton, which always makes me laugh. Tom doesn't have cancer, but he's in his 80s and his blood is giving him a little trouble, so he visits the Fargo center on a regular basis. It turns out Tom isn't the only one who has noticed the above and beyond treatment in this facility. Clifton Melby of Oklee, Minn., shared his thoughts on the Roger Maris Cancer Center too.
Back when my now-teenage daughter was 7 or 8, we got to experience the grand tradition of Girl Scout cookie sales. I don't know how it works these days, but back then we had to estimate how many cookies we could sell and then order them in advance. Jordan has always been a go-getter and this experience was no exception. She set her sights high and was about 80 boxes short of reaching her goal. Translation: we had 80 boxes of Girl Scout cookies sitting in our trunk that we needed to either sell or pay for ourselves.
"It's not a person, it's just a dog." I remember thinking those words when I had to put my beloved Robby Dog to sleep several years ago. It didn't seem right to have such intense grief, and yet there it was. Anyone who has lost a pet understands in an instant the immense loneliness that comes when you walk into the room expecting a warm, furry greeting and all you get is silence. When Kelli Slominski recently lost her companion, it was kindness that saw her through.