Be ye kind one to another

My friend and beloved diva, Pinky, found herself in the hospital requiring back surgery. After that ordeal, she was forced to go into a transitional care facility for physical therapy. One day while Dixie Dew and I were visiting her, she took up the subject of being kind to others.

It was something that was heavy on her mind because there was nothing said that would have brought up the subject.

At the first lull in conversation, Pinky, out of the blue, said, “It’s so simple, you know.”

“What?”

“Be ye kind to one another.” Lying flat in the bed, she stared at the ceiling thoughtfully as she talked and stroked Dixie Dew’s head as she lay beside her. “It’s one of the first scriptures I learned as a little girl but you don’t think about it. It’s simple, though.”

“What brought that on?” I asked, puzzled over how the conversation had taken such a wide swing.

“Since I’ve been here, I’ve had nurses who were so kind and some who weren’t. But a small kind word or a pat on the back can make such a difference. It really can. Just be kind.”

I nodded. “That’s true.” Then a subtle cynicism that I work so hard to fight back reared its ugly pointed head. “Except if you’re building a house then, in that case, kindness doesn’t always work. Some contractors don’t understand kindness. They only understand cussing.”

This has been a sad lesson for me over the course of time it took for me to build the house on which I was the general contractor. Most people appreciate and respond well to kindness and courtesy. But I had a few who were disrespectful, argumentative and mock bullies.

Dainty and feminine though I am, the usual epitome of Southern charm, it never occurred to them that they had met their skirted match. But after all, I was raised professionally in locker rooms and the NASCAR garage. I have gone toe-to-toe with the toughest guys possible including Dale Earnhardt, the biggest intimidator of all. So drywall hangers, framers, trim guys and rock masons were no challenge. Just a hassle.

It was aggravating to be relentlessly tough when I had to call the framers back for the 10th time because of sloppy work or fire the trim guy for constantly disputing what I had told him to do. The roofer refused to return phone calls for three weeks while the rock mason came and went at will and the drywall folks decided to throw a beer party on consecrated Baptist ground.

My plumber, Ronnie, was among the kindest of all. “It’s so hard when you’re a woman trying to do this,” I commented, watching him work in my kitchen one day. “I’ve had to be so tough sometimes that I come off looking like a real witch.”

“It’s hard for everyone who builds a house,” he commented.

I shook my head. “It’s harder for women than guys because of the perception. And because some guys can’t bear taking direction from a woman.”

It’s easier and less stressful to be nice. Unfortunately, nice doesn’t always work. Nice is sometimes kicked to the ground. So I’m now ready to return to Pinky’s scriptural directive. It’s time to be constantly kind again.

And now that I’ve finished building a house, I think I can do it.