Kindnesses cascade through my mind like a mountain stream. I remember my sweet, first-grade teacher giving me a hug for reading a story well. Mrs. Cornelius, my old and stooped fifth grade teacher, stood up to me, kept me in from recess, and told me in her raspy voice that if I would not talk so much, I might learn more. There was an old blind woman in a nursing home we occasionally visited, Mrs. Daniels, who always welcomed us into her room with a smile, a song, and a story. I can hear the ball swoosh through the net on the basketball court my father built for me one summer. My high school Bible teacher often met me for breakfast before school and used the time to encourage me to rise above mediocrity and live for Jesus Christ. For many years, the mailman would stop his vehicle and talk with me about life. When I graduated from high school, my pastor gave me a life-altering book with an inspiring inscription.