It doesn’t take money to be kind


I have not been present much on this platform, this accessible soap box that allows me to write about whatever topic I choose to write about. The lodge is busy getting ready to open for the long weekend, and I have been preoccupied by finishing my fifth novel and preparing my new baby to enter the world.

But, as writers do, I became distracted by social media while trying to write the blurb for the back of the book and I was unsettled by a tweet I saw while I should have been writing the outline of my latest novel. I’m sure the phrase in this woman’s bio was simply meant to insinuate that she could do more good if she had access to a plethora of funds, but the simple line “I wish I had the $$ to be more kind” took me by surprise.

I do not have access to heaps of cash, but I choose to be kind every day. Money, in my mind, does not equate to kindness. Simple gestures of humanity can bestow a great sense of compassion on those who are fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of that gesture. Perhaps if the line in her bio read, “I wish I had more money to donate to great causes”, I would not have been so affected. But her reference to money being equated to kindness burrowed under my skin, and the contamination of her misguided ideal caused that small, polluted remark to infect my sensibilities.

While this post may seem like more of a rant, my intention is to simply have my words be a reminder. We are not all blessed with wealth, but we are all given the opportunity to be kind on a daily basis. A few thoughtful words, or a simple gesture, could change the trajectory of someone else’s day without monetary currency being a factor in that communication. Kindness comes from the heart, and not from a bank account. Cash should not be the currency in a world of good will. It does not take money to be kind. It simply takes a willingness to take the time to shine your light on someone else and let that person momentarily bathe in its glow.

Trauma in the wee hours


As I do every morning, I awoke to the smiling face of my dog and we began our morning routine.  Coffee in my hand, we went outside and our first sight was a ravaged bag of garbage that a raccoon had left strewn about my entrance way.  This piqued Callaway’s interest and she was eager to get off the deck and chase the over-sized vermin to defend her territory.


Within moments of being in the bushes her cry pierced the morning air and my heart began an incessant rapid beat that sent me into high alert.  I had assumed that the raccoon had performed some ninja moves and lacerated my dog’s face and I immediately threw on my running shoes and bounded off the deck, shovel in hand, ready to pummel the furry ninja with my weapon of choice.

I was ill-prepared for the gaping wound in her chest that was bleeding fairly profusely.  Callaway gingerly limped back to the deck and I noticed a 3/4 inch hole just above her left front leg.  She had run into a branch at top speed and the result had left her fairly immobile.  My First Aid training came flooding back and I applied pressure to stop the bleeding. After several calls to the answering service for the vet I created a makeshift bandage and lifted her 85 pound frame into the car for the hour-long journey to see the doctor.

The vet was remarkable.  He ushered her in immediately and assessed the wound.  Without being able to tell if the stick caused further damage, Dr. Jones made the time to examine her further and offered to keep her for the morning so they could stitch and dress the wound properly.  His colleague has also offered to have her as a passenger for the hour ride back to their local office where I can pick her up later.  It’s comforting to know that medical professionals have as much compassion and concern for my dog as I do.

I am back home now getting ready to go to work and am anxiously awaiting a call to find out the extent of the damage.  I miss her already but I know she is in good, caring hands and she will be home soon.