This post, the question asked, and all the responses - all acts of kindness. I feel crushed under the weight of it all right now, and these posts, comments, and notes that focus on hope, community, kindness, and compassion are my lifeline. Thank you to all of you.
At a time when so many of us are feeling sadness, isolation, fear, and anxiety, it has been a great comfort to spend little moments here on SmallStack with so many of you. You've brought beautiful stories of kindness and resilience to all of us, and I feel indebted to you for sharing that kind of love.
We are still open for comments here through the end of the day today. Please contribute your stories and thoughts, and share this with those who need it.
It’s funny. My work is about finding programs to create resilience, and sure, I can rattle off a formal definition…but in the context of this week, with my kid and siblings bewildered and scared, it feels glib to utter encouragements about hope.
But one thing I read post-mortem hit for me: that in this age, simple decency is a revolutionary act, and we should be revolutionaries. I would extend it to say simple decency, kindness, and resilience - recognizing we are made of strong stuff and persevering, even if that only means getting out of bed that day - are all revolutionary acts.
I am drawing a lot of resilience from my ancestors today. Over 100 years ago, my great-grandmother immigrated from Sicily to the United States. She left her home, her family and friends, her native language and culture, and she did it all on faith that something better awaited her. Her fiance, my great-grandfather, left first to begin building a life for them. Later, she sailed across the Atlantic with her brother (women rarely traveled alone in those days) to join him. She settled in California and birthed four children, all of whom lived into their 90s, and one of whom (my grandfather) would grow up to perform alongside Frank Sinatra. She endured two World Wars and the Great Depression, as well as the many smaller triumphs, tragedies, and frustrations of an ordinary human life.
I don't know when she died or where she is buried. I only recently learned her first name (Clothilde). Yet I am here because of her courage and resilience. I am here because, over a century ago, she yearned for something better and decided she would leap. Grazie mille, nonna.
This is a good day for me to think about kindness--and resilience. Half the country woke up feeling good and the other half not so much. If yesterday turned out different, then that statement would still be true.
I work with women who voted differently than I did. Lovely people. Generous and willing to pitch in at work in a heartbeat. And yet...they are terrified of whatever it is they believe about "my side" and I'm terrified of their side too.
What I'm thinking this afternoon, sitting here..."kind" is not the same as "nice." I had to be out on the road this morning and stopping at a convenience store, I didn't feel like smiling. So I didn't. I told the smiling person behind the register to "Take care" because it felt like a genuine thing I could say. I want to practice being kind without losing my integrity.
Maybe this is the wrong day for me to try to put words to anything, but it felt like the right day to come in here and find others, to reach out for community and support. <3
One powerful memory that I have of kindness is from during my cancer diagnosis when I was having an MRI biopsy which was quite a challenging procedure both for me and the consultant. One of the radiographers was especially kind to me by simply massaging my shoulder to calm me. This was during COVID but she had no gloves on and the skin to skin contact was particularly poignant. The whole team looked after me so well afterwards. It was heartwarming.
On resilience, my view has changed to seeing it more through the lens of acceptance and releasing the. resistance to what is happening to make space to take appropriate action rather than layering up the armour, brushing off the blows and taking on the world.
Every day that I work in the hospital, I see kindness. Sometimes big. Sometimes little.
A few years ago, we experienced the worst winter census in the history of our hospital. And, though we were stressed, we showed up every day for our patients and each other. Our days were full of small kindnesses as we rushed from task to task: “Have you eaten? I will bring you lunch” “Can I bring you coffee? See a patient for you? Cover you for a break?”
On a day that started with a feeling of dread, I’m channeling the spirit of kindness, compassion, community, and humanity as I head back into the hospital to work today knowing that a lot of people will need support and care.
(Oh, and I’m bringing emotional support cake for a colleague’s birthday)
I relate to this so much! I work at a pharmacy and the stress level is high--and we are always doing small things, pitching in, making each other laugh or stepping in when someone needs a minute. Bringing treats. Taking a shift when we can for a coworker in need.
I love that so much. You’re right that the little things are actually the big things. They are what matter and make a difference. And I have seen so many of them from my own hospital team today.
I’m disabled and chronically ill - and with that comes resilience. You learn it whether you want to or not! When your body fails … you have to learn resilience. You have to adapt to your new reality whatever that might look like.
It can be a hard and painful process - but there’s also a lot of kindness and joy. You learn who your real friends are. People show up for you in the most incredible ways. You strip your life bare and build back with ONLY the things that really matter to you - because you don’t have the energy for anything else.
For me that’s my writing. I had to let go of a lot of things that were taking up unnecessary space so that I could focus on my writing - and the community I’ve found has brought me so much joy. Incredible, kind and inspiring people for whom I’m so grateful.
This, exactly this. I have definitely seen so much resilience in the various intersectional communities I am part of, and it's clear that we've had some practice at this.
I also wanted to share one of my favourite random acts of kindness stories.
I was in the ER alone one night - and it was crowded and scary as it always is - and my heart wasn’t doing well. I looked pretty rough. This nice woman approached me and asked if I needed anything. She introduced herself, said her husband was getting tests done and I seemed like I could use some company. She watched my purse while I was taken for a scan, she ran and got help when my heart monitor started going off.
When I was finally admitted to a room she gave me her cell number and told me to call if I needed anything - and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. I’ve never forgotten her - and actually checked in to see if her husband pulled through (he did) 💜
I’m sure to her it was nothing big - but to me it was everything.
The older I get the more I value kindness. A lot of people have been kind to me in my life. Picking up the tab in a restaurant, advice I sorely needed, or just a kind word when I was down and needed to know I wasn’t alone in the world. Now that I’m older, have learned more hard lessons in life, and can more easily afford to pick up the tab, I try to do these things when I can. I’ve also learned that it’s truly amazing how generous total strangers can be by just being nice to them. This is especially important when dealing with people who aren’t in a power position. The store clerk, the barista at your favorite coffee shop, or the person making deliveries to your house. If you treat people with kindness and a little respect it goes a long way.
During this fraught political season while I have strong political opinions, I try to be kind and thoughtful when posting online. While I’m horrified by what I see in the news and certain social media sites, I try to remember that this doesn’t represent most people. It’s OK to disagree but it’s not OK to be disagreeable. No matter what happens and who gets elected, we still have to deal with each other the next day and the day after. Let’s look for common ground, try to be on the right side of history, and never give up our humanity.
I started my Loving Kindness practice back in the summer of 2020, right when the world felt heavy, and connection was so needed. I made it a point to greet everyone I encountered with curiosity, warmth, and genuine kindness. The impact? Beautifully simple, yet profound.
There’s something so remarkable in seeing someone’s face soften—especially those who seemed lost in their own worries, maybe even a bit grumpy. A brief, unexpected smile would sometimes cross their face, and for just a moment, it felt like we’d lifted each other up.
Those tiny moments of connection? Priceless.
Inspired by the Letter From Love by @Elizabeth Gilbert I'd like to share what resilience means to me in form of such a Letter from Love with you:
Dear Love what would you have me say about resilience?
Sweetie,
Resilience. What a word, right?
For so long, you may have heard it defined by what you could endure or withstand.
But *that* isn’t quite it, is it?
Think of resilience not as a mask or a stoic face, but as a journey toward yourself—a journey to meet each part of who you are, even the places you once kept hidden. It’s a soft, steady becoming. Resilience isn’t loud, and it doesn’t wear armor.
It’s quiet, open. It’s the way you *grow* when you let yourself just be, moment by moment.
Do you know where it begins?
In the pauses.
Yes, resilience sometimes asks for rest. For you to slow down, to listen. It’s in the gentleness you give to yourself when you let go of the pressure to always “be strong.” It’s in the way you notice your own needs, daring to ask,
“What do I truly want?” instead of “What do I need to survive?”
Let me ask you, Sweetie—*what does resilience look like for you now*?
Is it the way you choose curiosity over fear, or the way you trust yourself to hold all that you find? It’s in the way you make space for new dreams, not because you have to prove your strength, but because you’re ready to *live*.
And yes, sometimes it means setting down the old burdens you once carried—quietly, without fuss, with no need to show anyone how much weight you bore. That’s resilience, too. It’s knowing that you’re already enough, that you don’t need to prove or defend anything. You just *are*.
So maybe resilience isn’t what the world said it was.
It’s not unbreakable; it’s adaptable. It’s alive, moving through you like a river that carves its own path.
You’re not here to conquer your canyon, Sweetie. You’re here to illuminate it, to walk through its depths with grace, to let your presence light up the places you once left in shadow and in the end, to become the canyon itself.
Remember this: resilience isn’t about getting through; it’s about *becoming whole*. It’s not about what you can endure, but about how openly you can embrace each part of yourself.
And you, Sweetie? You are resilience, just as you are. That soft but steady light? That’s your power, your truth. Let it shine.
My 9-to-5 is working in political media bias and bridge-building. What does that mean? It means I get to see all the wonderful grassroots work being done to pull the country back from the brink of toxic polarization. For example, today members of Braver Angels are pairing up-- one Trump supporter and one Harris-- to stand by the polls together and remind people that we can and will hold the country together. Imo, there is so much hope if you're looking for it.
I think about resilience all the time. I'm in the thick of a healing journey, and the more I uncover as I go, the longer the road to feeling better seems. It can be overwhelming, feeling like you're always taking two steps forward and one step back, but the idea of resilience always keeps me going. It reminds me that this is all part of the story, that this is where the best lessons are. To me, being resilient means I didn't let the hard stuff get to me. It means I'm stronger because of it.
A moment of kindness that I always remember was when I was in line at the grocery store with two of my kids who were about 3 and 5 at the time. The lady in line behind us gave each of my kids a five dollar bill for no other reason than they were cute kids (her words, but I tend to agree). You would've thought they won the lottery the way they acted and I always smile when I think of that memory.
This post, the question asked, and all the responses - all acts of kindness. I feel crushed under the weight of it all right now, and these posts, comments, and notes that focus on hope, community, kindness, and compassion are my lifeline. Thank you to all of you.
I don't do a lot of longform stuff here. I operate mostly in replies. But I like to think I have useful things to say :)
You have very useful things to say. I'm so glad you're here.
At a time when so many of us are feeling sadness, isolation, fear, and anxiety, it has been a great comfort to spend little moments here on SmallStack with so many of you. You've brought beautiful stories of kindness and resilience to all of us, and I feel indebted to you for sharing that kind of love.
We are still open for comments here through the end of the day today. Please contribute your stories and thoughts, and share this with those who need it.
It’s funny. My work is about finding programs to create resilience, and sure, I can rattle off a formal definition…but in the context of this week, with my kid and siblings bewildered and scared, it feels glib to utter encouragements about hope.
But one thing I read post-mortem hit for me: that in this age, simple decency is a revolutionary act, and we should be revolutionaries. I would extend it to say simple decency, kindness, and resilience - recognizing we are made of strong stuff and persevering, even if that only means getting out of bed that day - are all revolutionary acts.
Let’s be revolutionaries together 🩷
Bryn, thank you. You're right, we do need these revolutionary acts.
Wow Bryn, these are the perfect words for today. 💜 Thank you for sharing.
I am drawing a lot of resilience from my ancestors today. Over 100 years ago, my great-grandmother immigrated from Sicily to the United States. She left her home, her family and friends, her native language and culture, and she did it all on faith that something better awaited her. Her fiance, my great-grandfather, left first to begin building a life for them. Later, she sailed across the Atlantic with her brother (women rarely traveled alone in those days) to join him. She settled in California and birthed four children, all of whom lived into their 90s, and one of whom (my grandfather) would grow up to perform alongside Frank Sinatra. She endured two World Wars and the Great Depression, as well as the many smaller triumphs, tragedies, and frustrations of an ordinary human life.
I don't know when she died or where she is buried. I only recently learned her first name (Clothilde). Yet I am here because of her courage and resilience. I am here because, over a century ago, she yearned for something better and decided she would leap. Grazie mille, nonna.
This is a good day for me to think about kindness--and resilience. Half the country woke up feeling good and the other half not so much. If yesterday turned out different, then that statement would still be true.
I work with women who voted differently than I did. Lovely people. Generous and willing to pitch in at work in a heartbeat. And yet...they are terrified of whatever it is they believe about "my side" and I'm terrified of their side too.
What I'm thinking this afternoon, sitting here..."kind" is not the same as "nice." I had to be out on the road this morning and stopping at a convenience store, I didn't feel like smiling. So I didn't. I told the smiling person behind the register to "Take care" because it felt like a genuine thing I could say. I want to practice being kind without losing my integrity.
Maybe this is the wrong day for me to try to put words to anything, but it felt like the right day to come in here and find others, to reach out for community and support. <3
Sarah, I am so grateful for your words every single day. Thank you for being here.
Lovely questions.
One powerful memory that I have of kindness is from during my cancer diagnosis when I was having an MRI biopsy which was quite a challenging procedure both for me and the consultant. One of the radiographers was especially kind to me by simply massaging my shoulder to calm me. This was during COVID but she had no gloves on and the skin to skin contact was particularly poignant. The whole team looked after me so well afterwards. It was heartwarming.
On resilience, my view has changed to seeing it more through the lens of acceptance and releasing the. resistance to what is happening to make space to take appropriate action rather than layering up the armour, brushing off the blows and taking on the world.
I think your approach to resilience is exactly what I need today. Thanks, Jacqui. I always know I can count on you.
🙏🏻
Every day that I work in the hospital, I see kindness. Sometimes big. Sometimes little.
A few years ago, we experienced the worst winter census in the history of our hospital. And, though we were stressed, we showed up every day for our patients and each other. Our days were full of small kindnesses as we rushed from task to task: “Have you eaten? I will bring you lunch” “Can I bring you coffee? See a patient for you? Cover you for a break?”
On a day that started with a feeling of dread, I’m channeling the spirit of kindness, compassion, community, and humanity as I head back into the hospital to work today knowing that a lot of people will need support and care.
(Oh, and I’m bringing emotional support cake for a colleague’s birthday)
I relate to this so much! I work at a pharmacy and the stress level is high--and we are always doing small things, pitching in, making each other laugh or stepping in when someone needs a minute. Bringing treats. Taking a shift when we can for a coworker in need.
These small acts are not small at all.
I love that so much. You’re right that the little things are actually the big things. They are what matter and make a difference. And I have seen so many of them from my own hospital team today.
I’m disabled and chronically ill - and with that comes resilience. You learn it whether you want to or not! When your body fails … you have to learn resilience. You have to adapt to your new reality whatever that might look like.
It can be a hard and painful process - but there’s also a lot of kindness and joy. You learn who your real friends are. People show up for you in the most incredible ways. You strip your life bare and build back with ONLY the things that really matter to you - because you don’t have the energy for anything else.
For me that’s my writing. I had to let go of a lot of things that were taking up unnecessary space so that I could focus on my writing - and the community I’ve found has brought me so much joy. Incredible, kind and inspiring people for whom I’m so grateful.
This, exactly this. I have definitely seen so much resilience in the various intersectional communities I am part of, and it's clear that we've had some practice at this.
We absolutely have had some practice - and it’s sad in a way that we’ve HAD to become so good at it. It’s effectively a survival skill at this point.
I also wanted to share one of my favourite random acts of kindness stories.
I was in the ER alone one night - and it was crowded and scary as it always is - and my heart wasn’t doing well. I looked pretty rough. This nice woman approached me and asked if I needed anything. She introduced herself, said her husband was getting tests done and I seemed like I could use some company. She watched my purse while I was taken for a scan, she ran and got help when my heart monitor started going off.
When I was finally admitted to a room she gave me her cell number and told me to call if I needed anything - and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. I’ve never forgotten her - and actually checked in to see if her husband pulled through (he did) 💜
I’m sure to her it was nothing big - but to me it was everything.
The older I get the more I value kindness. A lot of people have been kind to me in my life. Picking up the tab in a restaurant, advice I sorely needed, or just a kind word when I was down and needed to know I wasn’t alone in the world. Now that I’m older, have learned more hard lessons in life, and can more easily afford to pick up the tab, I try to do these things when I can. I’ve also learned that it’s truly amazing how generous total strangers can be by just being nice to them. This is especially important when dealing with people who aren’t in a power position. The store clerk, the barista at your favorite coffee shop, or the person making deliveries to your house. If you treat people with kindness and a little respect it goes a long way.
During this fraught political season while I have strong political opinions, I try to be kind and thoughtful when posting online. While I’m horrified by what I see in the news and certain social media sites, I try to remember that this doesn’t represent most people. It’s OK to disagree but it’s not OK to be disagreeable. No matter what happens and who gets elected, we still have to deal with each other the next day and the day after. Let’s look for common ground, try to be on the right side of history, and never give up our humanity.
Let’s look for common ground, try to be on the right side of history, and never give up our humanity.
This sentiment feels needed today 🙏🏻
Bruce, this is such a lovely sentiment. Kindness opens so many doors for all of us.
I’m loving these stories, which are making me feel better on a tough day. Thank you all!
I started my Loving Kindness practice back in the summer of 2020, right when the world felt heavy, and connection was so needed. I made it a point to greet everyone I encountered with curiosity, warmth, and genuine kindness. The impact? Beautifully simple, yet profound.
There’s something so remarkable in seeing someone’s face soften—especially those who seemed lost in their own worries, maybe even a bit grumpy. A brief, unexpected smile would sometimes cross their face, and for just a moment, it felt like we’d lifted each other up.
Those tiny moments of connection? Priceless.
Inspired by the Letter From Love by @Elizabeth Gilbert I'd like to share what resilience means to me in form of such a Letter from Love with you:
Dear Love what would you have me say about resilience?
Sweetie,
Resilience. What a word, right?
For so long, you may have heard it defined by what you could endure or withstand.
But *that* isn’t quite it, is it?
Think of resilience not as a mask or a stoic face, but as a journey toward yourself—a journey to meet each part of who you are, even the places you once kept hidden. It’s a soft, steady becoming. Resilience isn’t loud, and it doesn’t wear armor.
It’s quiet, open. It’s the way you *grow* when you let yourself just be, moment by moment.
Do you know where it begins?
In the pauses.
Yes, resilience sometimes asks for rest. For you to slow down, to listen. It’s in the gentleness you give to yourself when you let go of the pressure to always “be strong.” It’s in the way you notice your own needs, daring to ask,
“What do I truly want?” instead of “What do I need to survive?”
Let me ask you, Sweetie—*what does resilience look like for you now*?
Is it the way you choose curiosity over fear, or the way you trust yourself to hold all that you find? It’s in the way you make space for new dreams, not because you have to prove your strength, but because you’re ready to *live*.
And yes, sometimes it means setting down the old burdens you once carried—quietly, without fuss, with no need to show anyone how much weight you bore. That’s resilience, too. It’s knowing that you’re already enough, that you don’t need to prove or defend anything. You just *are*.
So maybe resilience isn’t what the world said it was.
It’s not unbreakable; it’s adaptable. It’s alive, moving through you like a river that carves its own path.
You’re not here to conquer your canyon, Sweetie. You’re here to illuminate it, to walk through its depths with grace, to let your presence light up the places you once left in shadow and in the end, to become the canyon itself.
Remember this: resilience isn’t about getting through; it’s about *becoming whole*. It’s not about what you can endure, but about how openly you can embrace each part of yourself.
And you, Sweetie? You are resilience, just as you are. That soft but steady light? That’s your power, your truth. Let it shine.
With love always,
Your innermost Self
My 9-to-5 is working in political media bias and bridge-building. What does that mean? It means I get to see all the wonderful grassroots work being done to pull the country back from the brink of toxic polarization. For example, today members of Braver Angels are pairing up-- one Trump supporter and one Harris-- to stand by the polls together and remind people that we can and will hold the country together. Imo, there is so much hope if you're looking for it.
I think about resilience all the time. I'm in the thick of a healing journey, and the more I uncover as I go, the longer the road to feeling better seems. It can be overwhelming, feeling like you're always taking two steps forward and one step back, but the idea of resilience always keeps me going. It reminds me that this is all part of the story, that this is where the best lessons are. To me, being resilient means I didn't let the hard stuff get to me. It means I'm stronger because of it.
A moment of kindness that I always remember was when I was in line at the grocery store with two of my kids who were about 3 and 5 at the time. The lady in line behind us gave each of my kids a five dollar bill for no other reason than they were cute kids (her words, but I tend to agree). You would've thought they won the lottery the way they acted and I always smile when I think of that memory.
I just wanted to share this quote:
Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible. ~HH Dalai Lama