Five Minutes of Kindness

More than thirty years ago, I received a blond, 1950s-era (estimate) piece of furniture for five minutes of kindness.

I had visited a stranger in the hospital, the mother of a friend of someone my mother knew. This woman (I was told) was Catholic, in poor health, and experiencing depression, too.

Our pastor always stressed the importance of ministering to others, and this was my first time "ministering."

I popped a tuna casserole in the oven, grabbed a rosary, and drove away to the hospital across town. My husband worked an afternoon shift at the time. So once I arrived, I could only stay one hour before I had to leave.

I parked, hurried up to the room, and the woman was sound asleep. So I waited.

She awakened five minutes before I had to leave, a bit jolted by a stranger in her room. Her son arrived around the same time. So he made the introduction. I shared a bit of hard-earned inspiration and left.

That was a Monday afternoon. She died Wednesday morning.

Her son said my visit made such a difference to her, that he offered me her favorite piece of furniture, the hutch. But before he could deliver it, another relative claimed it. He was very apologetic. But my visit was from my heart; I wasn't looking to receive anything.

Two years later, that relative went into a nursing home. The son called and once again offered me the hutch. It's a very heavy piece of furniture. But it's gone where we've gone.

When we move from Marycrest to Channahon, we took it with us. When we lost the home in Channahon and moved to my mother's, it was one of the few items that went into our small storage unit. When four of us moved into a small apartment, we took it with us. It went to the first townhome, the second townhome, the third townhome.

Gilded Age Furniture Restoration recently "restored" the piece, along with my grandmother's dresser. The hutch holds some extra special dishes, such as pieces that belonged to familu members who are no longer with us.

Timothy has already claimed the piece after I die.

One of the reasons why this piece is so important to our family is the story behind it. That story proves that each act of kindness, sincerely given, can literally change someone's life.

The world is never not in need of kindness, I think.

Happy Monday!

Art in the Park, Part Two: Kindness and Art

This is a proud mom moment.

A few weeks ago, BryonySeries was part of "Shakespeare and Art in the Park" at the Billie Limahcer Bicentennial Park and Theatre.

On artist, by the name (I believe) of Elvin stopped by the table and wanted to buy three Bertrand the Mouse books for a relative with autism.

We were running a special during the event. For every fifteen dollars spent, a customer would also receive a gift card to the Book and Bean Cafe and a one dollar in Bryony Bucks.

But when Rebekah ran his debit card, the artist had insufficient funds. He insisted otherwise, so Rebekah ran it again. Unfortunately, the card would not go through.

So he sadly put the books down and returned to his table.

Later, Timothy came by the table and asked if I wanted to take a quick walk outside. He asked how sales were going, and I told him what happened. He exclaimed, "That isn't right!" and hurried back to the BryonySeries table.

He then bought all nine Bertrand the Mouse books - which also came with three gift cards and three Bryony Bucks. And then he gave them to Elvin.

Shortly afterwards, Elvin brought two pieces of art to our table. I protested - he didn't need to reciprocate; the Bertrand books were gifts.

Elvin got all choked up and said, "You're making me cry."

So we accepted the art. Aren't the pieces gorgeous?

You should know that my house is filled with art and artifcats that are gifts from others.

But Timothy will wind up with a house filled with art from local artists he personally supported.

Read this story of how Timothy supported and encouraged a teen artist.

And if you're out and about the Joliet area tomorrow night (June 10), stop by the BryonySeries table at New Orleans North and say, "Hi."

We will be there.

BryonySeries Throwback Thursday: Pizza!

Monday, October 22, 2012

Pizza!

As I'm writing this post, I'm eating this terrific, buttery, garlicy, white pizza from 2Fer's in Minooka. A friend suggested this venue to us as a place for Timothy to sing karaoke.

It took a couple of months, but we finally pooled our money and went once, in July, for my birthday celebration. The best part of a pizza joint for karaoke is that Daniel, who's only seventeen, could participate, and Rebekah, who's only eighteen, could finally hear Timothy sing "live" other than in a warehouse while cleaning it.

Currently, four enormous boxes of pizza are sitting on my stove in various stages of "eaten up."
So what's the big deal? We're feasting on pizza tonight because an angel brought it to us, an online angel I've never met.

Last year, when our water heater died a sudden death (right after the warranty expired; dontcha love how that happens?), this woman heard of our plight, found us a terrific deal on a new water heater, and sent a friend 'round our place after hours to install it.

Today, she and I were chatting, innocuously, I thought, when my cavalier attitude toward our various crises alerted her radar, and she began brainstorming options with me. These weren't anything I hadn't considered, but it's always good to give things another review, and her kindness truly warmed me.

So I figured we were just making conversation when she began asking me about my favorite pizza parlors...until she asked for my address and what my family liked to eat. I typed loud objections; she told me to breathe and not to worry about making dinner tonight.

Since it was already mid-afternoon, and I still had two more interviews and a meeting, plus I had to run (literally, long story) to the bank to exchange a money order and then drop off some paperwork at my attorney's office, and then work on three more projects tonight before I pronounce Monday as officially "over," (Did I mention I was particularly stressed since I'd missed my power walk this morning due to monsoon-type thunderstorms?), I decided to quit arguing and accept her generosity.

Now for a little "ha, ha."

I told Daniel to walk with me for a little mother-son bonding time, stressing the fact that I had fifty-five minutes to run to the bank and the attorney's office and to review a press release before my four o'clock interview. He obliged me with a good pace to both places and soon we were trotting back to the house.

As we neared the stoplight at our intersection, I opened my manilla envelope to hand him the money order along with the instructions of how to separate it and where to file each piece. Oh, horror of horrors! The money order was gone.

I literally stopped dead in my tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, threw up my hands, looked into the still overcast and threatening sky and shouted, "Who's side are you on?" Then I checked my phone: 3:40. I spun on my heel and ran back down the sidewalk, looking left and right as I did so.

I spied that lovely piece of paper about halfway back, patiently waiting for me on a thatch of grass. Daniel snatched it up and proclaimed himself keeper of the money order, which was fine by me. Then we ran all the way home. As the journey came to an end, Daniel, with sudden revelation, said, "Hey, you got your work out!"

Maybe God's on my side, after all.