Acts of kindness deserve our attention

While the world wonders whether World War III will start in Syria, America is celebrating Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving has been a holiday in America since the country’s founding, and was first celebrated with native Americans.

It is a time to be thankful for our country, families and friends.

The centerpiece of the celebration is a large dinner that always consists of turkey, the big American bird that settlers found in abundance on the shores of Massachusetts and New York.

As a journalist, my temptation is to always put holidays aside.

So I have studied the accounts of the shootdown of the Russian fighter jet by Turkish forces, and seen a tremendous amount of speculation on what is next.

Might this provoke a war between Russia and Nato, of which Turkey is a member?

More importantly, are there other stories of greater importance that we are missing? Something truly different?

This week, there are reports out of Philadelphia that a child’s cancer was essentially healed after a kiss from Pope Francis during his visit in late September.

This is not something that came from dubious sources, but was rather confirmed by the child’s parents and doctors.

Since Francis’ visit, the child’s doctors now say she has a chance for survival.

Her parents are attributing the miracle to good doctors and the grace of God.

The chance meeting with Pope Francis almost did not happen.

A GREAT PARENT

The family received tickets at the last moment and raced to the parade route.

The pope’s motorcade stopped and security brought the child to him.

This is not front page news anywhere in America, and I am not sure why.

Second story: I lost a friend last week to cancer. Like too many, he died too young but had accomplished much.

But his real legacy is his children, who were adopted from the rancid orphanages of Romania and Russia after the fall of the Soviet Union.

Here is how his daughter described him in her eulogy: “My dad always made the trip of my adoption from Romania seem like an adventure — almost like something out of a James Bond movie.

He would tell stories of running to catch trains, weaving traffic jams, navigating breadlines, and bribing immigration officials for my papers — all so they could take me home.

“Last week, a friend of mine was joking with me about when my patience wears thin with my mother to remember that she carried me for nine months and nursed me.

My response was that I was adopted, so I actually was the chosen child from day one. Not to brag, but there is something supremely beautiful and special in that.

“My dad describes seeing me for the first time on a cold winter day in Romania. I was swaddled and bound so tight that he thought that I looked like a Sunday Pot Roast. Only my face was visible. Tied to my chest was a cardboard number 206. But when I opened my big blue eyes and looking up so helplessly at my mom and him, he knew that I was their child. In an instant, little No. 206 had stolen his heart.”

Again, this story will not make the front pages in America.

But these two tales — of a child’s cancer being healed by a kiss and the adoption of two orphans — are representative of all that is good about our world.

We rely on these acts of kindness every day to provide light in the darkness that seems to dominate our attention.