Opinion: 5 lessons in kindness from outside L.A.’s evacuation zone

The fires have tested but also reinforced my belief that we create beauty from life’s challenges. Here are five lessons from the first five days of evacuation.

Be open to kindness. On Day 1, I went to my favorite coffee shop in Santa Monica, La La Land, looking for refuge from dislocation. After about an hour, a barista announced they were closing early due to the wildfires. I wanted another comforting La La Land environment, but would any place be open?

I confessed to the strangers around me that I had been evacuated. As it turned out, most of the people around me were too. After hearing a few of our harrowing fire stories, one kind stranger, Nadia, extended a gracious invitation: “I have a bridal shop a few blocks up the street. Why not spend time with us there?”

The area was safe, and she had a co-worker with her from the shop. Why not be open to her invitation? If I felt unsafe, I would excuse myself.

Nadia was unendingly solicitous. Entering her stunning bridal studio — all neutral colors, plush couches, beautiful gowns — was like stepping into another world, from ember-laden reality into a serene sanctuary, from insecurity to a paradise-like safe house, an oasis, a tranquil escape from the soul-stirring fires. The contrast meant everything on Day 1; respite from my fears for the future.

Give hugs and listen with care. On Day 5, a former mentor shared that OpenClosit, the designer rental shop, had turned into a clothing donation site for fire victims. It was another unexpected port in a storm. When I walked in and told Liz, an OpenClosit stylist, “I am a Palisades evacuee,” she responded with a depth and warmth of compassion that startled me. ”I am so very sorry,” Liz said first, followed by a long hug. She listened attentively, empathetically: To have a person outside my race and with no personal experience with the evacuation be so attuned created a wonderful sense of belonging.

Family love shines in crisis. My family lives on the East Coast but their care and concern has been palpable. My mom offered me the option of living half-time with her. Robyn, my sister, has daily scoured the internet for helpful tips, such as where I could find free food, Federal Emergency Management Agency workshops, free clothing and more. Marquis, my nephew, volunteered to funnel information about how I am doing to everyone in the family. Their grace and support have been invaluable.

Be present for yourself. Amid so many unknowns, putting down my feelings in writing has helped me find peace amid the chaos. Daily journaling has been the lifeblood of managing my anxiety and being aware of what I am feeling in the moment.

Make deeper connections. On Day 3, with my neighbors and I still uncertain about our condo complex’s fate, I shared a picture of the structures with one — the buildings survived. She let me know this was the best news she had received all day, and that she had just cried alone because of all the terrible things she was hearing from family, the news and friends. I immediately called her and she shared that she barely had hope for her home remaining intact. Reaching out reduced her stress and nurtured my need for purpose and community.

These rich and mindful encounters made a Bible verse, Isaiah 61:3, personal: Being present to encourage my neighbor gave me “beauty for ashes.” Nadia extended to me kindness and poured “the oil of joy” over my mourning. Liz’s genuine care outfitted my spirit of heaviness with a literal “garment of praise.” All of them transformed loss and anxiety to feeling seen, heard, understood, supported, valued and unconditionally loved.

Alisa Lenore Smith is at work on a book titled “Poetic License: The Science and Art of Living Life as a Poem through Presence.” She donates her time as a Court Appointed Special Advocates volunteer in support of foster youth.