I used to be ashamed and embarrassed of my kindness
Soft hearted. Kind hearted. Those were things that were used as slightly insulting euphemisms about kindness. Those were criticisms bandied about by people whose opinions and praise I valued. The charges that brought those terms up, caring about people. I used to be ashamed and embarrassed of my kindness. Truly I used to be ashamed about caring. Which in my faith now, the place I am now, feels insane. There’s nothing more Christlike about seeing suffering and doing what we can to relieve it. “If you do it to the least of these,” has echoed in brain since I heard it. Yet I used to be ashamed about trying to do that. It’s funny because my entire adult life has turned into service, of some kind. I began with a mission. I went into the military, where I was a medic. I came out into healthcare. I still work in mental health and substance treatment, in a role requiring me to leverage my vulnerabilities and personal experiences. I have volunteered at a crisis line. My entire adult life is d