Every now and then, God seems to send me little surprises. Winks that whisper, “I’m still here. I’m still watching you. I’m listening. I care.”
Like today, when there was an unexpected knock on my door.
In this world, people rarely knock unannounced so obviously I was filled with curiosity, “Who could that be?”
I peeked through the window and saw her—my upstairs neighbor’s mother who’s been visiting for the month to help her daughter. My neighbor is from Brazil, like me, which is something that has bonded us in a tender way. Her mother is a small woman. Her round frame carrying the kind of softness that makes you instantly think of comfort food and unconditional love. The kind of figure that reminds me of an Italian nonna, only in this case, a Brazilian mãe.
She was beaming, holding up a blue-lidded Tupperware like a trophy. Inside: a generous slice of carrot cake covered in glossy brigadeiro icing, our national chocolate treasure. The sight alone felt like home.
Her gesture was so simple, yet it landed in my heart like a divine reminder: You are not forgotten. Not by God, not by humanity, not by life itself. At least that’s the story I chose to believe. And it’s far better than the other one where miracles have dried up and the heavens have turned away.
Because the truth is, life can be unbearably dark sometimes. Heavy enough to crush and test my faith. But then, in moments like this, an old-fashioned knock at the door, a motherly smile, a Tupperware of sweetness…I find myself believing again.
So when in doubt, choose kindness.
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