A random act of kindness

Reaching out across time and space to touch a stranger's heart can be scary.

Sending a message on social media to someone you don't know or opening one from a stranger are equally as scary, in a digital sort of way.

But Sadie Carter did it. And I'm super thankful to her for her courage because it meant a lot to know someone I didn't even know was thinking about me.

The afternoon of Feb. 5 was already special because I had lunch with my elementary school art teacher. We recently bumped into each other and enjoyed catching up after nearly 30 years. (We'll do it again soon, Mrs. Morgan!)

My heart was feeling particularly raw because my beloved gray tabby, Apollo, unexpectedly died in my arms the Friday before this snowy afternoon. He was 14, but it's never easy to say goodbye. He was our special little gentleman.

As I walked back to The Press, I saw on my phone I had a message from someone I didn't know, accompanied by a picture of my seventh grade Canfield Middle School ASB card and an R.L. Stine book, "Halloween Night," which was one of the many books I stuffed into my headboard bookshelf as a kid.

"Hi Devin, I was at the thrift store and bought an older book that brought back memories for me. Was looking through it and found your old ASB card. Funny thing I found you on Facebook. I was born and raised here and thought it was neat. So I thought I would let you know."

I was intrigued, so I accepted her friend request and saw we had a couple mutual friends. We chatted and she visited me at work Monday to return the ASB card. 

She had found the book at the Gathered for Good Thrift Store in Coeur d'Alene. I couldn't even remember when or where I had donated it.

"It's curious because you wonder how the cycle of it even went through," Sadie said. "How long ago did you have this book? Like, forever ago?"

We got to talking and realized our lives growing up in North Idaho were fairly parallel. We were both born at Kootenai Health, about five years apart. We both went to Coeur d'Alene schools, just different ones. We both have lived here our whole lives. We both enjoyed creepy books as kids, obviously. 

"I was intrigued," Sadie said. "I was like, 'Oh, Canfield. I wonder if she still happens to live around here.' I know a lot of people have moved away."

Searching social media, she saw my photos of jack-o-lanterns and love of Halloween that gave her some clues she had found me.

"It's neat because you never know who you'll run into, and the fact that you're still here," she said. "It's still that small community where you randomly run into people and you have all these random ties."

We ended up chatting for a bit and finding other weird ways our lives overlapped. It was a truly pleasant introduction to a new friend I hope I keep in touch with.

Who knows the journey of that book? How many people saw my ID card, closed the pages and set it back on the shelf? Maybe the book was in another kid's room for a few years before he or she donated it, never noticing it contained a relic from my childhood.

I love writing these kinds of stories, but I rarely get to be in them. I told Sadie this reminded me of a story I wrote several years ago about a woman who found her late mom's sewing kit in a thrift store 20 years after her death. That one gave me chills and tears, for sure.

This week happens to be Random Acts of Kindness Week, which annually falls the week of Valentine's Day. The week encourages one and all to promote kindness in all its lovely shapes and forms.

Sadie started my Random Acts of Kindness Week early, but we both shared how this serendipitous connection was a bright spot for both of us.

Thanks, Sadie. I hope I can do something special to lift someone's heart the way you lifted mine when I really needed a sign from the universe. One small act of courage and kindness made a very big difference in this hometown reporter's life.

Devin Weeks' seventh grade ASB card, recently found in a book at a thrift store and returned to her by a kindhearted community member who also grew up in Coeur d'Alene.