I traveled the world with my three children. We lived in two places — Wyoming and Italy (and during the early ’80s, we kept a suite at the Stanhope Hotel in New York, so we’d always have a place to stay and work while traveling between those two places). Their father was Harry Jackson, celebrated artist who drew his inspiration from the American West, and who had his sculptures cast in bronze in Italy, where he owned and ran his own studio. He was also an ambitious businessman, so we were always on the go.
My children (I had three in four years) were no strangers to traveling. It was quite matter of fact with us, and they were always the best behaved ones on the plane. Mainly because they knew the drill from before they knew what a drill was.
On one particularly difficult trip, we were traveling from JFK to Milan, headed home to our house in Tuscany. Jesse was four, Luke was two and a half, and Chloe was about nine months old. On the plane, Chloe began to cry inconsolably. Suddenly she had diarrhea; and even though I was a consummate traveler with these children, her situation had gotten so bad that I‘d actually run out of diapers. In tears, I begged the flight attendants to please make an announcement. Before she could do it, a set of disposable diapers magically appeared from behind me, between the seats.
I ran to change her. I did my best. Everything was cleaned up, but the crying didn’t stop. I felt so horrible for everyone — my baby who was suffering, and every around me. There was nothing I could do. Nothing worked. (If you’re ever on a plane where there’s a crying baby, please know that the mother is doing her level best to comfort that child. It’s not about you.)
Then She appeared. This woman was probably in her mid-forties, but that’s all I remember about Her. She had a calm face, compassionate eyes, and She said, “Do you think it would be ok if I held her? Would you like to try?” I tried to pretend I hadn’t been crying myself, and said, “Are you sure?” She said unequivocally, “Yes. Let’s try.”
I gave the Woman a clean cloth to put on Her shoulder in case anything came up; and then She took Chloe into her arms with a blessed certainty and experience that immediately settled my baby down. The Woman spoke gently to her, hummed a little tune, and walked down the aisle with her, up and down a couple times, until she’d fallen deep asleep. There isn’t any thing in the English language to convey the depth and breadth of gratitude I felt for the kindness this Woman showed me (and Chloe and everyone else).
When She returned my sleeping daughter to me, tears fell down my face. “What can I do for you? How can I repay you?”
She smiled and said, “Do it for someone else.”
*********
For years, I tried. I scanned for the opportunity, hoping it would come. I always packed extra diapers when I traveled, even when the kids didn’t need them anymore. It never came. Well, not in exactly the same way. Then I realized what she meant: maybe I didn’t need to come across a desperate mother with a crying child, but anyone who needed help would do. Anyone at the end of their rope.
Last Christmas, I hit the jackpot. It was December 23rd, and everyone was frantic and stressed, buying last minute supplies, groceries, gifts. I was in line at Costco, right behind the woman being checked out. There was a long line behind me. Something was wrong with the woman’s card. It wouldn’t clear. The woman fussed with her wallet, looking for enough money to pay with cash. There wasn’t enough. She was clearly about to melt down. People behind me were shifting in their shoes, mean faces lined up one behind the other, all the way back.
That was my chance. I gave the lady behind the counter my card and said, “See if this one works.” It was not a small sum, but not so large that I couldn’t do it. They both looked at me.
“Wait, what?”
“Yes, just put it on my card, don’t worry about it. I can do this. Life is short. Merry Christmas.”
Flustered, the lady got everything packaged up and in her cart, thanked me profusely. She went outside, but didn’t leave. When I came out, she asked me for my address, swearing up and down that she would pay me back.
I told her this: “If you pay me back, then the whole thing stops here. It dies with us. I would like it much better if just did something like this for someone else. It might not look the same at all. But look for wherever you can do something completely unbidden, unasked for, that will benefit someone a lot. That’s how you can pay me back. Like the movie says, ‘pay it forward’.”
So. To you reading this: try doing something today that they can never thank you for. Maybe do it for a friend in secret. Or do it for a complete stranger. With the hatred, the screaming matches taking place in the world today, the murder and mayhem, this is the only effective weapon I know of that can overcome it all. Kindness. True, tangible kindness.
May all beings benefit.
I’m a patron of Ninja Writers and this is part of the Medium Post-a-Day Challenge of blogging for 100consecutive days. If you enjoyed this article, click on the ‘applause’, or comment, share, or follow me.
