THE SEEDS OF KINDNESS
By
-Daniel-
©
Though we be apart,
we are but a heartbeat away.
I have come to share a Truth
upon this blessed day.
It is not what we take from this world,
but rather that which we give to it
that leads to our own happiness;
for the seeds of kindness
grow into the blossoms of joy.
There once was a woman, working in my department,
who was difficult to deal with and most people tried to avoid her,
ignore her and unfortunately speak ill of her, behind her back.
But there was one man, with a stony face that hid a tender heart,
who would let her prattle on, knowing that Sylvia was only lonely
and sought to fill the empty spaces of her life
with the chatter of her own voice.
One day, while no one was looking, Sylvia fell ill with cancer
and was off work for nearly a year.
When she returned, some people were a little kinder while others,
again, grew weary of her constant chatter.
But the man with the stony face still listened to her worries and her
fears as she told him that while she was sick she had laid in bed,
looking out the window at a blossoming fruit tree and wondered if
she would live to see it bloom again...
...and when the tree bloomed that next spring,
she told him how happy those little blossoms made her feel.
In the fall of that same year, Sylvia developed a cough
that would not go away.
She refused to see a doctor until the man with a stony face
gave her no choice.
She tried making excuses for not taking the test,
but they fell upon deaf ears as he told her that he
would pick her up at her house, drive her to the hospital
and then drive her home again.
She asked if he would really do this and the man's stony face softened
and he begged her to let him help her.
Two days later they went to the clinic together for the lung biopsy.
The ride home was silent and long.
As he reached out to hold her hand,
she spoke the dreaded news,
"The cancer is back."
The man softly replied,
"I know."
He gave her a hug and finally said,
"We will leave it in God's Hands."
A week later, Sylvia flew back to her parent's home,
in New York, and waited for God's release.
Just before her passing, she called and spoke one final time
to the man with the stony face
and those sitting near saw that there were tears in his eyes.
At her memorial service, he shared these simple words with
all who had worked with her:
"Each of us have our own thoughts and remembrances of Sylvia.
I would like to share with you my memory of her.
I spoke to her about a month prior to her passing.
She was suffering terribly,
much more than any of us could ever know.
She told me that she had been ill for so long that she no longer
remembered what it felt like to be well and whole.
But through it all, she clung to the hope of returning home,
to work and to her friends.
She thanked me and told me that I had helped her in ways
that I could never understand.
The last words she ever spoke to me are the ones that
I will remember forever,
they were:
'I love you.' "
The man with the stony face often thinks of Sylvia,
especially in the Spring, as the fruit trees bloom;
and he knows that she gave to him, as he gave to her
and he would not trade their moment together
for all the wealth that has ever existed.