Many years ago I received a truly Divine gift.

I was young, and adventurous, yet unsure of my purpose in life. I was a dreamer of dreams, a lover of life, a kind spirit, a poetic soul, and yet the pages of my life lay scattered before me on a path that twisted and turned abruptly, and at times was indiscernible.

One typically cold and wet morning I stood in awe of the world, surrounded by the pillars of Stonehenge. There are no words to describe how I felt, walking in the footprints of ancient builders, dreamers no doubt, from a time no less than 3500 years before mine.

The world seemed much larger than usual. An empty patch of sky spoke to me of the billions of stars it likely concealed. The towering pillars and more earthbound boulders conjured visions of the Druids toiling, worshiping, living and dying before me.  The quirky accents with which my English friends joked about my laid back California drawl reminded me that I was far from home. 

My life paled in contrast to what stirred my imagination. I felt small and insignificant. Perhaps it was the Druids that whispered “It’s time for change”.

Soon after, the dreary skies of Southwest England lay behind me, and the sunny shores of Southern California once again soothed my soul. But it didn’t last.

A close friend suggested an organic farming and gardening program that would send volunteers to Honduras. Six months later I was double digging raised garden beds in Milagro, Ecuador. The Honduras program lacked funding, so I, along with six others accepted an invitation to volunteer and work in Ecuador. Two years later I would return to California.

Many times in life we are given Divine gifts, gifts that seem to come from our Creator, an unconditionally loving, eternally speaking, perpetually giving, and kind, Creator. What this means to me, will undoubtedly be something different for you. This is neither right nor wrong. It is simply a difference in perception of life that is unique to each individual.

It’s like a gentle breeze carrying a hint of spring rain when someone chooses to share their individual spirit with another person. An opportunity for growth opens doors for an open mind, and when one realizes that nothing is ever truly done alone, it can be life changing, to say the least.

I was given a great gift through someone who remains very dear to my heart.

She is kind, giving, loving, and a servant to anyone in need. I know her as Mary, but today the world knows her as Mother Antonia.

One day she told me a story that began on an unusually quiet morning inside the walls of La Mesa Prison in Tijuana, Mexico. I had traveled with her to the prison on several occasions, and she passionately admonished me to never ignore the goodness in every single person, though their situation in life may suggest otherwise.

She taught kindness, unconditional love, a recognition of beauty, and worth, within every person. She would tell me, “God doesn’t choose. Look for, and see His presence in everyone you meet.”

Insightful words indeed. I miss our long conversations.

While Mary inspired poetry from my soul, nurtured a growing recognition of my volunteer spirit, and spoke to me of selfless sacrifice, I know that I am not alone.

There are people in your lives that are no less inspirational, perhaps moreso, and are loving, kind and generous individuals as well.

That is the beauty of the life we live. We’re all in this together, whether we like it or not, and when we choose to live lives of kindness and unconditional love, good things happen.

A kind person is a Divine gift, not because of who they are, but because of the kindness that flows through them.

We all have kindness within us. Let it flow through you to others.

Mary touched my life in a way that few others have. She is a wonderfully kind person, fiercely dedicated to her life of service, and someone that I remember always.

Please forgive me if I wander sentimentally, searching for words that can only hope to reflect the beauty and goodness of my dear friend.

In keeping with the intent of this website, I choose to define kindness by writing about what I believe kindness to be. The life of this woman is all about kindness, a hard kindness, a demanding kindness, an exhausting kindness.

Few of us could make the choices Mary made. Few of us could maintain the commitment to service that she has for over 30 years, yet all of us can love all others the way she does, and she would be the first to tell us that.

My heart rambles poetic, wishing to find the words to allow you into the life of this woman.

There is a book called “The Prison Angel”, that does what I have only wished to do. It is a story of selfless service to others. The story of Mother Antonia is one of recognizing God in everyone she meets. Recognizing is a small task when compared with the gift of loving everyone one meets.

I was once given the Divine gift of living for a few moments within the heart of this courageous and loving woman, and what follow are a few grateful thoughts and words that I wrote many years ago. I hope they will allow you to be embraced by her unconditional love as I was.

She knows that this love and kindness is within us all.  She would encourage us to let it flow.

***

Francisco lay quietly in his cell…

He lay quiet in his prison, shaking,
coldness of the night awaking
within the barren concrete walls.
Retreat, beneath his tattered blanket,
comfort gained from another’s fright,
was no defense against the coldness of the night.

Tired eyes beheld the blessed Virgin,
alone upon the walls of home,
his divine love a fleeting solitude.
Commotion in the courtyard breached
the uncertain safety of his retreat,
another coldness he could not defeat.

“Life is cheap here”, he thought. “Why do we steal
what other men have made ideal?”
Where are the nine? Where is justice?
Angered, he closed his eyes and fled
the turmoil locked within this hell,
and chose instead to bid his pain farewell.

His blissful Heaven was suddenly shaken,
perhaps his choice somewhat mistaken
when darkness filled a thundering sky.
Slumber surrendered the treacherous night.
He woke to voices, laughter, sighs,
while crumbling walls succumbed to painful cries.

Delighted, he smiled, then swore, as bare feet
touched the coldness of the concrete floor,
words his curse, his anger reborn.
Fiercely treasured tokens, polished daily,
measured by their midnight gloss,
slowly carried him, not away, but across.

Confused, he quickly approached the sadness.
“What has happened here? What madness?”
Tender, sweet María gathered shorn locks of hair,
her beauty and grace discarded to the dust.
“Unjust”, he shouted, ” this madness truly mistaken,
and blindly wrought upon this girl forsaken.”

Wishing to free what remained of her meekness
while the inmates laughter despised her weakness,
Francisco recovered what was left of her beauty.
The shouts of the inmates grew louder.
“She wanted to die”, they mockingly said.
“We thought we would help, by shaving her head.”

Consumed by his anger, this desperate soul
gently touched his life, as if to console.
His spirit bewildered, his world slipped away.
Darkness found light in the depths of her pain.
A prisoner of dreams? Sacred light from above?
Perhaps she had given him the freedom to love.

There was joy in her pain, but startled by cries
he threw down the shackles, the anger, the lies.
Commanding strength in defense of her gift,
courage defying the tears he was crying,
he found and saw within her, sweet sorrow.
The strength to face unknown madness tomorrow.

The tears must dry, fateful battles be fought,
or lose the respect others money had bought.
Like the thundering sky, a darkness descended
unleashing pain in his wounded heart.
Walking slowly away, his hand still caressed
the locks of her hair that he treasured, possessed.

Suddenly knowing that these moments might flee,
he turned back again toward the cruelty.
Within the few moments it took to return,
the pain of María would be measured in years.
Willingly, her life she would give,
there was no fierceness, no battle to live.

***

Long before light unveiled the shadow’s blindness,
seeds were sown for simple acts of kindness.
Thankful to trade the shivers of her cell
Mother Antonia found her place in the chapel.
She graciously welcomed a new day to care,
though her tired knees ached from decades of prayer.

She thanked God for His precious gift, her life,
and asked for the grace to be kind and patient,
that she may see His Holy Presence in every person.

The loving Sister’s smile concealed her pain
as she neared the open door of God’s domain.
Entering His courtyard she saw the crowd gathered,
and found strength in faces of those she loved dearly.
She whispered, “What a blessing, to love”.
Her smile brightened the heavens above.

“But why were some laughing, while others cried?”
Her heart filled with compassion, but no one replied.
Those who were laughing, had now turned away.
Her smile shed light on the sadness of others.
“They are all my children”, she graciously thought,
reaching deep for the patience her prayers had taught.

The kind Sister covered the young girl’s hair,
and cradled her sorrow with a good mother’s care.
Some found the courage to laugh once again,
courage enough, to resume the injustice,
but they dared not meet the sad Sister’s eyes
that now reflected her child’s innocent cries.

Suddenly, she turned, and with a spirited gaze,
captured the madness, setting souls ablaze.
“Do not look at this girl without compassion.
Do not look at her without feeling her pain.
Do not ignore the injustice done here today.”
As the Sister spoke, no one dared look away.

She tenderly dried the tears of her child,
caressing her hair so completely defiled.
“Your hair will grow back. You’ll be strong once again.
You’ll give of your life, it’s goodness a gift.”
As the Sister embraced this child who would die,
she whispered, “God loves you, and so do I.”

With new hope in her heart to escape the unjust,
María shed her pain, now dust in the dust.
With God in her soul, Sister by her side,
her youthful legs were strength enough for both.
There was no laughter as their lives became one.
There was no more pain. A new day had begun.

***

Francisco yearned for this union, this giving of lives.
He hungered for love that Divine Spirit revives.
Accepting the pain in her moments of silence,
he drew near and touched the young girl’s hand.
Years of pain burrowed deep through his soul.
These feelings of pain created power to console.

He had once sat quiet, in his prison, shaking,
on a frigid, forgotten morning, waking
within the horror of courtyard walls.
Bloodied, beaten, bound by redemption,
surrounded by coldness and hellish decay,
life stealing his courage as he drifted away.

The loving Sister’s hands had cradled his head,
bringing warmth to his heart, she tenderly said,
“What brings you to me, my fearful child,
that I may be blessed with another love?
I’m so lucky to know you, would you like to know why?”

She whispered, “Because God loves you, and so do I.”