When I visit a city for the first time, the first thing I do is to hop on a tram or a bus, to have a taste or a feel of what it is like to be really present there. To live.
Spending real days, getting up early, carrying the kids in the rain... sensing the lingering, heavy and pungent scent of wool coats.
Suntanned, bronze and sweaty skins, some slightly perfumed giggling nearby.
Enlightening.
Stubbly faces, make-up, looks and gazes through the window. We are getting to know each other.
Everyone, everywhere doing things in different ways, that is, in the same way, the same things.
The last time I was on a bus in Stockholm, suddenly losing balance I accidently stepped on a lady’s foot, stumbled and gripped her so we almost fell down together. Alarmed, I blurted with Hungarian eloquence „Excuse me, Gosh Darn!” The lady replied in English “no problem... besides, my son-in-law is Hungarian, at times he also utters Hungarian expressions like Gosh. My daughter studied in Vienna, that's how they met.” Feeling confused, I asked if I could help her with anything as I almost knocked her down. She said “No way, but the next is the last stop, let's have coffee”. She was going to meet a friend of hers in an hour to join some singing group. I have never had coffee in my life, especially not at a Swedish lady’s invitation.
We had a great chat.
It did leave an impact. It's possible to be unafraid of others.
It's possible to give and get. A smile. An insight. We just need to let it happen.
There is no greater power, the connection between people. Sharing knowledge and experience. Safety. Understanding acquaintances all around.
Supportive and open world.
Living here, traveling there, learning elsewhere.
We are together. Here, on this planet, and otherwhere.
There are no limits... in anything.

Tibor Jakabovics, Founder

Giving rightly is challenging. Perhaps simply avoiding selecting is a good solution. Conventional common sense does not necessarily hold true just when there is a sudden dire hardship.
Giving is the greatest gift. People’s fates will give us the opportunity to receive that kind of gift.
There is no measure, only sentiment and connection.
It makes no difference if it’s half a loaf of bread to appease hunger, or a baby-stroller long yearned for. It doesn’t matter if it’s to shovel the backyard for potatoes for winter, or if it’s a hospital in Mumbai. Giving is teaching: from the one who accepts.
Intertwining stories, ticking clocks observed together.
Initially, my hands trembled. Now, my heart does too. I understand now.

I have stories…

In London I met that little girl: curly, brown hair, dark, smart eyes, a tiny bag with ladybird figures on it, and amazing rainbow pants. She was about 6 years old, like my eldest daughter at that time.
She lightly bumped into me, then fell. It was a rather peculiar fall, and even more peculiar the way she got up. Perplexed, I offered my hand, but she didn’t accept it. She started to laugh heartily and said: “whoaaaaa, I have Duchene, I am going to die”, then turned around, and clung to a woman. She was her mother, who whispered to her: “shush, oh, God, don’t say such things, tomorrow is the examination…” and I heard no more.
Her painful voice and her look burned in to my memory.
Google, articles, websites right away at the airport…
It hurt inexpressibly.
Later at home I found their community. Since then I keep receiving gifts from them. And I will for a very long time.

And you? Do you also have a story? Send your story to gooddeeds@lavylites.com

Tibor Jakabovics, Founder