In the present world, this technological, psychotic, politicized, nonsensical world, you have to believe that the good guys are going to win.
The meek shall inherit the earth.
I read an article today about a stranger in North Carolina who paid for dinner at a restaurant for a family with an epileptic son. The mother’s name is Ashley England and her son, Riley, is 8 years old.
“I’ll try to do this without crying,” the waitress told the family, according to WBTV.com. “But another customer has paid for your bill tonight and wanted me to give you this note.”
England said Riley, who is nonverbal, gets frustrated because he can’t speak, and he had been especially rowdy during the meal.
“He threw the phone and started screaming,” England told WBTV. “The past few weeks have been very hard and trying for us, especially with public outings. Riley was getting loud and hitting the table, and I know it was aggravating to some people.”
Ashley said the mystery diner’s random act of kindness brought her to tears.
“To have someone do that small act towards us shows that some people absolutely understand what we are going through and how hard it is to face the public sometimes,” she said. “They made me cry, blessed me more than they know. I felt like out of all the rude negative comments we are faced with, these outweigh them. The people who care. Little did he know what struggles we had been facing lately, and this was surely needed at that moment.”
I needed to read that. And she’s so right: out of all the rude negative comments we are faced with, these outweigh them. The people who care. I’ve been in such pain – nearly constant physical pain, the worst of my life (though it’s going away now)…and perhaps that’s why I reacted so emotionally to the icky troll comment. Thanks for all of you who rose to my defense or left a comforting comment. On a better day I’d have approved it, ignored it, and moved on.
I’ve been told by a few to just delete rude/mean comments from trolls or whomever, but I want them to have their say. Maybe just so they can hear how idiotic they sound, or to remind myself of exactly how good the “good guys” are in comparison. It’s like the physical pain I went through….which, incidentally, was worst on my birthday. Pain reminds us how awesome it is to feel no pain. Cruelty reminds us of how awesome kindness feels. Balance and all that.
So not to worry, my goodfolk…I am neither crushed nor angered anymore at the comment. Ignorance is simply lack of knowledge, and judgement is just an easy way to elevate oneself to a false level of confidence or ego. The minute we start pointing fingers at one another we have lost the truth — that, really, we all could use a good long walk in a million pair of moccasins, each representing a different path, a different perspective.
I found this commentary about the meek inheriting the earth:
“The meek are those who can bear insult; are silent, or return a soft answer; who, in their patience, keep possession of their own souls, when they can scarcely keep possession of anything else.”
I like that. I sometimes feel I’m the epitome of meek. I’m not one for ‘soft answers’ but perhaps it’s something to strive for…and I’m not sure if I have learned patience so much as had it thrust upon me until I had to adapt to a patient mindset or go insane….but I’ve certainly got possession of my own soul, even when I can scarcely keep possession of anything else.
Boo has scarcely been on my radar screen through all this sickness, if the truth be told. I missed my visit last Saturday. I invite you to call me a bad mother, because frankly, Ms. Ickerson, I don’t give a damn. I was in such pain all I could do was cry and pray. Jonah’s father has picked him up for visits all week and through the fog of pain meds, I hear tell of a boy who is acting his usual self — unabashedly joyful, sad, hungry or angry…but always my sweet, precious Boo.
I’m hoping to move from the bed and the couch soon back to the outside, where my morning glory vines, stubbornly massive in their green reach, have finally bloomed into sky-blue streaked white flowers. I’m hoping to feel better enough to see my boy on Saturday and hug him tight. And I’m grateful I have told the un-sugarcoated truth for years now and have heard resounding cries of love and support in return.
Thanks so much.