As a parent, you watch your children grow.
They go through "phases" that come and go.
They learn about life.
They change.
They become.
Sometimes, though, there is a certain quality
that is so much a part of their being
that you see it appear again and again in their lives.
Yesterday, I was reminded of this with Adam.
From the time he was a little boy,
Adam has had a gentle, caring spirit.
When playing with his sisters,
there was rarely a fight because
he tried to make his sisters happy.
If there was an insect in the house,
he would capture it and take it outside
to continue its life.
He was happy to forgo birthday gifts
to donate to the local soup kitchen.
Another priceless example of his kindness
even extended to his vegetable garden when
he was 13.
He picked his first two green beans and named them Steve and Sherry.
But he hated the idea of cutting them and putting
them in boiling water. So Kerry helped him out!
In college, it makes him happy to volunteer at a food pantry in Middlebury.
And at the end of last semester he brought in pastries and coffee for a breakfast in his dorm for the students to meet the custodial staff and let them know they are appreciated.
Currently, he is studying abroad in Rome.
He tries to write a little bit each day about his experiences in an online blog
asawamura.tumblr.com
It was yesterday's post that reminded me once again of his kindness.
It reminded me of the depth of his caring.
It made me proud.
Here it is:
Last night, I walk by the train station on my way home. (Confession: I’m not here intentionally. I’m lost and looking for a bus stop). Across the street, I see heaps of blankets piled on the sidewalk under the eaves of the station. I quickly realize that under these blankets are people, huddled together for warmth.
I’ve been told that the senzatetto (homeless) come here at night to sleep, but the sight of it elicits in me a visceral reaction, as if I’d just been punched in the gut by some cruel invisible fist. The image sears itself painfully into my memory.
Today, I’m out walking (this time, I’m not lost) and am amused by the three young kids strolling ahead of me — perhaps seven years old. They seem to be alone, maybe walking home from school, chatting, giggling, and enjoying the sunny afternoon.
They proceed past an elderly woman, begging for money. After continuing a short distance, I see them collectively hesitate, then pause in unison. Wordlessly glancing at each other, they reach into their pockets. Several moments of fumbling around for change, and one of kids manages to find a coin. Together they turn around and gingerly drop it into the feeble old woman’s cup. I’m grateful to be privy to this scene. It etches itself redemptively into my memory.
"There is nothing so strong as gentleness,
and there is nothing so gentle as real strength."
~Sir Francis de Sates
