Kindness Matters

My Maxim for this Year

This year, I have chosen a guiding phrase—a quiet compass to help me navigate both ordinary days and unexpected storms. The words that keep returning to me again and again are simple yet powerful: Kindness Matters.

Not kindness as a vague idea or a pleasant afterthought, but kindness as an intentional practice. A way of living. A choice.

In a world that often rewards speed over care, volume over listening, and judgment over understanding, kindness can feel almost rebellious. Yet that is precisely why it matters so much. Kindness grounds us. It softens sharp edges. It reminds us that every person we encounter is carrying a story we cannot see.

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What Kindness Matters Means to Me

For me, this maxim is a reminder that words matter, tone matters, pauses matter. How we respond—to success, to frustration, to people who differ from us—matters. Kindness does not mean weakness or silence in the face of wrong. Rather, it means choosing compassion even when it is easier not to.

Kindness is strength with a gentle voice.

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Simple Ways to Live this Maxim

Living out Kindness Matters does not require grand gestures. Most often, it reveals itself in small, daily choices:

• Speak gently, especially when emotions run high. Words linger longer than we realize.
• Listen fully, without planning a response while someone else is still speaking.
• Assume good intent, even when misunderstandings arise.
• Extend grace—to others, and just as importantly, to yourself.
• Offer encouragement freely, whether through a note, a message, or a sincere compliment.
• Pause before reacting, allowing kindness to guide the moment instead of impulse.

Even silence, when chosen thoughtfully, can be an act of kindness.

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Why Kindness Matters—Now More Than Ever

Kindness creates ripples. One small act can ease a burden, mend a fragile moment, or change the course of someone’s day. We may never know the full impact of our kindness, and that is part of its quiet beauty.

As a writer, I believe stories shape hearts. As a human being, I believe kindness shapes the world. When we lead with kindness, we make room for healing, connection, and hope. We remind one another that dignity and compassion are not optional extras; they are essential.

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A Kindness Challenge for the Year

I offer you a gentle challenge—one that requires no special tools, no extra hours in the day, and no perfection.

For the next week (or month, or even the entire year), choose one intentional act of kindness each day.

It does not have to be big. In fact, the smaller and more consistent, the better. For example…

• Smile at a stranger and mean it.
• Text a message of appreciation.
• Let someone go first—on the road, in line, or in conversation.
• Speak kindly about someone who is not present.
• Forgive a small offense and release it quietly.
• Offer yourself patience on a day you fall short.

At the end of each day, pause for a moment and reflect: Where did kindness show up today? Where did I choose it? How did it make a difference?

You may be surprised to discover that kindness not only changes the atmosphere around you—it changes you. It softens the heart, steadies the mind, and reminds us of our shared humanity. If enough of us take up this challenge, even imperfectly, the world will become a little warmer, a little safer, and a little more hopeful. And that, I believe, is reason enough to begin.

Kindness matters. Live like it does.

—Richelle E. Goodrich

Reflections on a Decade of Words (and Mild Chaos)

 

A Year’s End and a Cup of Questionable Cocoa

As this year stumbles toward its grand finale—tripping over scattered rolls of wrapping paper and presents that could more easily be shoved into gift bags—I find myself sitting quietly with a mug of cocoa that may or may not still be warm. It’s early. Very early. The kind of early where a person begins to ponder important questions like Why am I awake? and Did I actually accomplish anything this year? This past decade? Or did I just perpetually reorganize my website?

But then the memories drift in, floating like dust motes that cleverly avoid vacuum cleaners. And I realize that… yes, I did accomplish things. Quite a few things, actually.

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Words That Wandered Off Without Permission

When I first started publishing, I had no idea that some of my shortest lines—tiny thoughts scribbled in the margins of my brain and my notebook—would wander off into the world and find homes in places I never expected. Quotes I first scribbled on post-its became lines in my books and somehow ended up taped to the desks of strangers. Some of my quotes were taped into scrapbooks, displayed on classroom walls, printed in magazines, and shared online by people who had no idea I was often venting or healing from what sparked my thoughts and adages.

But nothing has delighted me quite so much as hearing, “I needed your words today.”
It has been humbling. And a little surreal. Like watching your kids go out into the world and manage themselves independently as kind, decent, responsible adults.

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Books, Books, and a Few More Books

Somewhere in the midst of my writing journey, I managed to publish multiple books—fantasy adventures, reflective collections, poetry, and other stories that insisted on being written. Each book release has been a bit like sending a fragile little paper boat into a giant ocean. Miraculously, none of them sank. Even more miraculously, people read them. Voluntarily. Thank you.

When readers tell me a character speaks to them or a line offers real comfort—well, those are the moments that fuel me more than any amount of caffeine (and that is saying something).

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Lessons Learned (Most of Them the Hard Way)

This past decade taught me discipline.
Which is a polite way of saying: I can write on days when the creative spark is dead and buried and refusing resurrection.

It taught me revision and patience. (Some manuscripts I have revised so many times they should be awarded frequent flyer miles.)

It taught me to trust my voice, even when that voice occasionally mutters “This paragraph is awful” or “No one will ever read this,” which, ironically, is often when someone emails to tell me it was their favorite part.

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The Not-So-Solitary Writing Life

Despite the stereotype of writers living in dark rooms surrounded by stacks of books, sentimental possessions, and empty mugs (okay, fine, that part is kinda true), I have been incredibly lucky to be part of a creative community. I have met readers who share their hearts. I have met writers who share their wisdom. I have met people who ask, “When is the next book coming out?”—which is both the greatest compliment and the scariest question ever.

Storytelling may happen in solitude, but I have learned that being a storyteller is wonderfully crowded.

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Gratitude, Giggles, and New Pages Ahead

As I wrap up 2025 and try not to devour the last of the chocolate covered gummy bears, I feel immensely grateful. Grateful for characters who whisper their stories at three in the morning, for readers who embrace my stories (and don’t complain too much about my cliffhangers), grateful for a husband who supports me wholeheartedly, and grateful for the unpredictable ink-stained path that has somehow carried me through a full decade.

I pray that 2026 and the next ten years will bring me creative ideas, new manuscripts, leaps of faith—and a faster laptop. But for now, I am so very thankful for the time and opportunity to craft my own stories.

Here’s to another year of quiet wonder, beautiful words, healing laughter, and the special magic that happens when a book finds its perfect reader.

— Richelle E. Goodrich