Defiant Kindness
by Sara Nooft
I sat criss-cross applesauce on my bedroom floor. It was early in the morning. I was exhausted. The day stretched in front of me exactly like yesterday - more give, give, give, take, hide, hide, hide…try, try, try to be ok. With enough time to collapse in bed and watch a Gilmore Girls episode before doing it all again. I functioned like a fragment of myself, but I thought the stress and strain meant I was doing something right. I just care a lot, I told myself.
Worn out, run down, body-and-soul-spent. A gray fog hovering over the earth, subtle enough that no car is gonna put their brights on. We know the feeling. It may be burnout, compassion fatigue, or chronic stress. It may be past harm hidden in our bodies, or some messy monster of all of it. It makes life hard. Really hard.
A dozen devotionals lay scattered around me that morning. They taunted me like reading assignments for a class I felt I was flunking. Something defiant and desperate came over me. I made a decision. I’m done doing something for God. I have to do whatever it takes to find relief. I turned on music, breathed in and out, wrote what I felt in my body, and did a few yoga stretches. Then I got up, and did the day.
It was small, but it was important. I found kindness.
Kindness feels like space
Kindness feels like room to breathe
Kindness feels like your voice
Kindness feels like life
It’s defiant, because it rails against every push through, work harder, do more, there’s something wrong with you, you’re not doing enough for God mantra that confounds us.
As clients are walking out the door, I often say “be kind to yourself.” Some love it, some look confused, and some know it’s coming as a gentle reminder. I say it because I want them to know they are always invited. You are always invited to receive the grace and kindness of God. Caring of ourselves - kindness - isn’t a selfish, indulgent act. It's the very embodiment of God’s love for us. We live as loved humans when we live with kindness toward ourselves.
It truly makes me excited to remember that becoming a whole human happens through love. To think that my flickering flame of desire may be the very place where God breathes—where healing comes not from striving, but from tending my body and receiving God’s “it is very good.” To think that cocooning in a blanket, swinging on a swing, drinking hot tea with honey, making music or art or food - these may be the most defiant acts that feel like the most grace-filled gifts.
If I see you at the swingset today, I’ll be so happy. May you know kindness.
