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February 24th, 2024

Jesus was kind.

But Jesus wasn’t nice.

I love the warmth of an embrace, and a glowing radiant smile. A “thank you” and a “you’re welcome” go very far with me.

I will often forget what was said, but I will rarely forget how I felt when you said it. Or the tone of voice you let carry your words to me. Did you shoot the arrow at the apple or my heart?

It’s my heart that keeps the score.

It is my understanding that I am weak for preferring a hug now over a garden later. Hand me the shovel and the seeds and I’ll wish I already had the sweet strawberries.

Like a gong in a monastery on a vast, vast mountainside a safe voice resounds through me. Can’t we all just be *nice*? Be *nice* to me, please.

But what happens when you’re kind? Acts of kindness and generosity don’t have to spawn butterflies or blushing- and the most kind actions won’t.

I hate that you are kind because it would be much easier to handle you if you were nice.

Niceness doesn’t get you anywhere at all.

So here I stand.

With my feet buried and a painted smile on my face.

Stop being so kind.