Sometimes I get so disheartened by the news, and stories I hear, and the angry faces people make as they drive around in their cars. I worry about Hallie and Hanna playing in the front yard; who is driving past, and what kind of thoughts do they have as they see my babies running and jumping? I stress about people they may or may not meet in the future, bullies, drama queens, mean teachers. What will the older kids that sit in the back of the bus say to them, too low for the bus driver to hear? Sometimes I get a little overwhelmed with this flood of worrying about the people they will meet in their lives, and knowing that I have absolutely no control over how any of those people will treat them.
And then, then something always happens that restores my faith in the human race. When I am at the peak of my anxiety doldrums, someone somewhere always steps up and reminds me that most of the people in this world are good people.
In my mailbox today, shining in the sun, was a white, square package. My heart leaped (leapt?) (was leaping?) within me. I love white square packages in my mailbox. (Except when they are from Marlboro). And I just knew that it was from my friend Heather, and I knew that it had baked goodies inside.
You probably don't know my friend Heather, so let me tell you about her. Heather is curly hair. She is soccer practice and marching band. She is Logansport, Indiana. She is a restaurant I will never eat at called the Happy Buddha. She is the bravely noble Fighting Pickles. She is a musician, and a finder and sharer of great music. She is baked goodies in a white square package for no reason other than because she likes to bake, and I sent her a message on facebook saying "please". Did I say please Heather? I hope so.
Anyway, this is me saying thanks. Thank you Heather. And thank you to all the good people, and the mostly good people, and the sometimes good people, and the want to be good people, and the considering being good people.
On behalf of my daughters, and the joy of eating baked goodies, Thank You.