A great community leader just died at age 96. She was a dancer, ran a dance studio in the north, retired to Florida and worked her entire retirement to help make our community a better place in which to live. I had the great honor for knowing her personally for a long number of years. I read her extensive obituary in the local newspaper. Intending to make a donation on her behalf, I looked to see what charity she had or her family had designated for such donations to honor her memory. Her family requested that in lieu of flowers or a donation, that we each consider doing a random act of kindness to remember her. What a great lady! Even in her passing, her desire was to make our community a better place.
I contemplated what random act of kindness I would do to honor her memory. I decided that I would do as my youngest daughter does on a regular basis—give to someone at a street corner who is asking for help. I prefer donating to agencies who help individuals in need, but in the great lady’s memory, I would go out of my comfort zone.
All week long, as I drove to work and to home, I looked for someone to whom to give a donation. All week long, in an unusual frigid spell for South Florida, there was no one on a street corner.
Constantly thinking of this great lady and all she had done, I was kinder and more generous to everyone I came into contact with the entire week. But, that did not satisfy what I wanted to do to honor her memory. She deserved a special random act of kindness in her name alone.
By the end of the week, I felt the universe was against me. I could not find a special enough random act of kindness to do in her memory.
Having some extra time after a long time of having none, I decided I would take the huge envelope of old lottery tickets to one of those scanners and be done with this chore on my “to do” list. I stood at the scanner in the supermarket for what seemed like an endless period before there was one $1 winner. I looked up. There was an elderly man waiting patiently for me to finish. I saw he had only about six tickets to scan and offered him to do his before I finished. He responded that he had nowhere in particular to go and no schedule to follow, so he was fine to wait. When I offered again, he said he was sure he could wait. We started talking about the lottery, why we continued to play when we never won anyway and where the lottery money helped others. He was curious to see if there would be any other winners in that enormous pile. It turned out that there were six $1 winners. Without thinking of the great lady, I turned to him and gave him the six $1 winners, thanking him for his patience. He was so surprised and appreciative.
Then I remembered that I had just appropriated honored the great lady’s memory. The significant random act of kindness came easily when I was not working so hard to execute a random act of kindness.
My yoga teacher always says that we must not muscle into our yoga practice, just as we must not muscle in our lives. I was trying to muscle into an act of kindness, and the universe intervened. In her passing, the great lady taught me that a true random act of kindness comes from the heart not the brain. I now have honored her memory in a way that I think she would want.
I called my daughter and told her that when I pass, I do not want flowers or donations in my memory. I received such blessings from this great lady that I want to emulate her example and pay it forward too. I also want to be remembered with a random act of kindness in my memory.
This Grandma is now going to talk about this great lady and teach my grandchildren her lessons in life. Wisdom comes with age, and at 96 when she passed, she was wise beyond even those years. May she rest in peace as I thank her for all she did for everyone who had the privilege to know her.
Joy,
Mema
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