The funny thing about being a ninja is how many face-to-face conversations we have with the recipients of our ninja hearts. To the girl who was crying at Biggby this morning: because I couldn’t tell you who I was, you didn’t get the cute card, or the fancy ribbon, and your gift card was in the form of a skinny mocha with no whip. I’m sorry you were trying so hard to hide the pain you were in, but I meant it when I said that I hoped your day got better. It’s sunny, the birds are singing, and I hope that whatever it is that made you cry takes a long walk off a short pier. If it was ok to hug strangers without the fear of a restraining order, I probably would have done so. But, if you’re one who knows of the Lansing Ninjas, and you read this blog, and you had an overly concerned, probably somewhat creepy individual buy your coffee this morning, then you know a secret that very few do. Perhaps that can serve as a cheer of sort?
- Gasp! Where are the ninjas? wp.me/p15oKE-hm 2 years ago
- RT @homeless_angels: Mobile food pantry. February 15th. Spread the news! #homeless #angels #lansing #lovelansing http://t.co/iGaylVlh1T 3 years ago
- @jenestill So cool! Thanks, Jen! 3 years ago
- @hardlynormal Thank you for all you do. It matters and so do you. 3 years ago
- NEW BLOG POST: Add some kindness to your holiday shopping excursion in #lovelansing wp.me/p15oKE-hi 3 years ago