I woke up angry this morning. Angry at the cruelty, and blatant racism, sexism, misogyny, and deceit playing out in front of us; angry at the people who seem to be fine with all of that; angry at the people who talk about “leftist extremism” while brushing off January 6th as a “rally” and ignoring the violence being done to children and other innocent people because they “look guilty” and happen to live in the wrong parts of towns in blue states; angry at an administration which seems to take delight in inciting violence and hate towards states and people it views as its “enemies”; angry at the federal agents who say “f***” the children and “now go home or you’re next”; angry at bullies; angry at the people who applaud the bullies; angry at the “friends” who have tried to guilt me into silence by calling me a “pot stirrer” when I’ve provided information counter to their political views; and maybe I woke up angry at myself, too, for feeling powerless to make the cruelty stop.

And so that’s how I left our house this morning – angry and grumpy.

We needed to go to Sedro-Woolley to run an errand, and, afterwards, ended up at a coffee shop for drinks and treats. After a while, when we still hadn’t gotten our order, I began to feel impatient and asked the baristas if maybe they’d forgotten us. We got our drinks soon afterwards.

Another customer had come in after us. She waited patiently at another table. She never asked if she’d been forgotten. She never looked agitated or perturbed. She quietly sat at her table, swinging one leg while she waited for her coffee. She had on the coolest rubber boots – she’d rolled them down at the top and there was this cool salmon-pattern revealed on the rolled-down parts. I had to ask her about them.

She told me the pattern was designed by the “Salmon Sisters” in Alaska. She’d lived in Alaska for a while, she said. I learned then that she’d worked for NOAA as a marine biologist, and now worked for the Washington Dept. of Fish and Wildlife. I told her my brother was a marine biologist, too, and had worked for NOAA for a time, and then another government agency, and had ended his career working for the State. We talked about fishing for a while – she told me something I hadn’t known – that if there isn’t enough fishing allowed, the fish population will exceed what the rivers supply in food, and the salmon population will begin to die out. She was interesting. And kind. She was interesting and kind and patient. And, when she finally got her order and was ready to leave, I thanked her for modeling kindness to me this morning. I told her I’d come in to the coffee shop feeling grumpy – which isn’t my usual self – and she’d helped bring me back to myself again. She smiled and thanked ME – which is, of course, what a kind person does.

Meeting my new friend reminded me of one of the most essential lessons life has taught me – that as long as we can love and show kindness to the people we encounter every day, we aren’t powerless – we CAN make a difference. Just like my new friend did for me this morning.

I’m still angry about the cruelty I see in our world. Maybe it’s right to be angry about that. But I don’t feel so powerless, anymore.