Through Another Lens

I feel so dumb.

I thought I could help.

But I was reminded (yet again…) today that I walk into situations from a place of privilege, assuming that with a little research, leg work, and talking to the right people, things will get done.

But the universe sent me another reminder that:

NOT.  ALL.  PROBLEMS.  CAN.  BE. SOLVED.

And maybe even more profound – that maybe what I see as “problems” are not. 

I have been waiting for our pantry guest on the bicycle, the one who “knows my mother”, to come by on a day that I am off work.  I have been wanting to go with him to DHS (Department of Human Services), which is right down the street from us, and “get things sorted out” with him.

And today was the day.

I was off work for the majority of the day.  After a morning appointment, I was back at home, sitting looking out the kitchen window when what should I see – THE SKY BLUE BICYCLE WHEELING ALONG!!!  I jumped out of my seat to greet our friend, but David had beat me to it.  David had already had a short conversation with him, and our friend had indicated to him (and now again to me) that he would, “Be back in about half an hour” for the hot coffee I was offering.

Only, this is the guest that has NO.  MEMORY.  I knew in my heart that he would not remember to turn around and ride back to our house for coffee after he went to do whatever he was currently thinking of (we assume it was go use the bathroom at the 7-11).  I kicked myself for not going with him to wherever he was going.

So, I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And sure enough, about 45 minutes later, he was back!!  I rushed out to greet him then ran inside to make him a meal.  Today it was hot beef soup, a cup of Jello, a fruit cup, and some coffee.  He sat on our steps to eat and I sat down with him. 

I knew the window of opportunity was short – I had about two hours until I needed to join a work meeting.  And instead of eating, he kept chatting.  We talked about the sammmme things he and I always chat about – the 3 hospital stays, the 2 children he has lost track of…  Oh, and a new topic today: WHOLE FOODS!  He said that is where he grocery shops (which cracked me up, I told him that is called “Whole Paycheck” and it is too rich for my blood!  Also, I know for a fact he doesn’t shop there because it is far from where he wanders, and my friend works at Giant and sees him there!). 

I realized I needed to leave him alone so that he would finish eating and we could go.  I came inside to do a few things (secretly watching him out the window, afraid he would forget that we had agreed to go to DHS after his meal).  He finally finished and off we went – him walking his bike and me walking beside.

We had a nice chat while walking.  He pointed out a house that “used to be a store” (he might be right on this one, I have always wondered why that house is so close to the street…) and a new house that is being built that he seems fascinated by (this huge mansion-in-the-making led to a lot of talk about “rich people”). 

When we got to DHS and walked in, the security guards recognized him and smiled.  He chatted with them (very curious what the AirPods in their ears were, although they may well have had that same conversation yesterday and the day before and the day before and the day before…).  We were directed to an office, took our number, and sat down to wait.

Luckily it was not crowded so our turn rolled around pretty quickly.  I introduced my friend to the worker and explained what we had come for:  his EBT/SNAP (foodstamps) card is not working, and he is living on the street – does he need a referral to get into a shelter?

The EBT issue was rote for her – she had a slip of paper for us to follow to try and resolve that one.  As for the more complicated issue, that one would require paperwork.

He and I sat back down to complete the forms.  I filled them out, asking him the answers I didn’t know.  It was remarkable how many fields were “not applicable” – phone number, address, email, emergency contact, known medical issues, married/divorced….  Some of the questions obviously didn’t apply, and some I didn’t know the answer to and he sure as heck couldn’t remember it! 

We turned in the paperwork and got the PIN number on his ETB card reset.  All that was left to do now (in my naïve, privileged mind…) was to meet with a case manager!  We were told who would be coming to talk with us and we sat and waited.

After a while the original woman came out and apologized.  She had not noticed that he was too old to be served in this office.  She referred us to the 4^th floor and it looked like she was keeping the sacred paperwork (meaning we would have to fill it all out again upstairs…).  Luckily, she agreed to give the papers to me, so off we went to the 4^th floor (only, that meant passing the security guards again, which meant another conversation about AirPods…).

The woman on the 4^th floor also recognized our friend (was that a good sign?  A bad sign??  If all of these people KNEW him, why did he not seem to be receiving any services??).  We turned in our paperwork to her, filled out a bit more, and sat down to wait again. 

As we waited, we chatted, and the DHS worker could hear every bit of the conversation.  We talked about rich people.  About flowers.  About cocaine (this was a new topic).  About him being in the hospital (3 times!  In diapers!!).  And all of the things we always talk about.  Occasionally, the worker would look over and smile.  I wonder if she has had those same conversations with him in the past?

My time before work was running out so I had to call in back-up support.  David (my partner) came to take my place.  I briefed him on all that had happened and just as I was about to leave, the woman who had been assigned to our friend came out to greet us.

And from the moment she walked over, it was obvious that she was very frustrated that she had been assigned this case.  “Hi, this is our friend…  He has memory issues.  We are hoping to figure out how to get him a place to sleep,” I explained as we stood in the waiting room.  “Yes, I know him,” she said, and went on to explain that he has been into the office repeatedly and they “keep trying to help him” and they have given him “several referrals to the shelter” but he “chooses not to go”.  She explained that once they even “gave him a voucher for a taxi, but when he got out of the taxi I don’t know if he went into the shelter or not.”

I could feel my blood starting to boil.  “Of course he didn’t go into the shelter!” I wanted to yell, “He got dropped off in a taxi, had no idea where he was or why he was there!”. 

I asked if he had a CASE MANAGER, someone to oversee his care and well-being.  And this is when she explained the part that floored me…  She said that a case manager cannot be assigned until he “gets into the system”, and “getting into the system” means staying at the shelter for quite a while.

This man has NO MEMORY.

If he woke up at a shelter and then went outside for a bike ride, he would have no idea where he had spent last night.  He would not return to the shelter. 

I had to rush to work so left David with our friend and the woman who was frustrated to be assigned his case (yet again apparently).

David and our friend met with the woman and probably filled out more paperwork.  She gave David the address of a shelter.  David and our friend walked back to our house, I served them fresh strawberries, we put his bike in the back of our car, and off we drove to the shelter.

Mind you, ALL THROUGHOUT THIS PROCESS, I had been explaining (repeatedly, see the note about him having no memory…) that we were going to try and find him a place with a bed today.  And he was ON BOARD.  He said, “Yeah, that’s good”. 

We pulled up at the shelter (which was not the one we assumed they would assign him) and when we walked in, they greeted him by name.  Apparently, DHS had told them to expect him!  That seemed like a good sign…

The place was clean and nice.  We were shown a table full of food and told all 3 of us could eat (David and I declined, but our buddy sat down with a turkey and cheese sandwich).  I talked a bit to the person at the front desk about the issues we were trying to deal with.  The staff member was so kind and caring and supportive.  But most of all, what I noticed is that he was RESPECTFUL.  He talked with such respect to all of the residents (and us).  He said that they were ready to do the intake but would wait until our friend finished eating (isn’t that so sweet?).

When our friend was done with his sandwich, we accompanied him to another room for the intake.  More paperwork, with many, many more “not applicables” because I do not know his history and he does not remember it.  He did not understand many of the questions and I was “interpreting” them (asking them to him in different words).  All was going well until they got to the last page - the consent form.  The staff member explained that if he signed this form, he was giving the shelter consent to share his information with the state, county, police – whoever was needed to ensure he received the services he needed.

“Wait, what??” he asked.

She tried to explain it again.

“I want to read that!” he said.

She showed him the paper.

“I can’t read it.”  I am not sure if the issue is literacy, cognitive functioning, bad eyesight, or a combination of those things, but today was the first time I realized he cannot read.

I offered to “read” it for him, and recapped what it said in simpler terms, keeping the severity and meaning intact.

“I need to think about that….” he said.

Oh.  No.

I hadn’t considered that he may not consent to receive services!  In my stupid, never been homeless, don’t have severe mental illness state, it had not occurred to me that maybe what I thought he needed is not what he thinks he needs…

Then again…  Is he competent to make legal decisions such as that?

“I have an idea,” I said.  “Let’s just go see what a room here would look like if you decided to stay.  You don’t need to sign the paper!  You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.  But would you like to at least see a room??”.  The staff member nodded to me that yes, that would be possible. 

“I’ve been here before.  But ok.  I will see a room,” he said.  (He apparently had been there before, but only as an overnight guest.  And this time the paperwork that DHS had sent over would allow him to be a resident.)

The four of us went upstairs to peek into a room.  When the staff member opened the door, a man in one of the beds startled.  She apologized to him and said we just wanted to see a room (even retelling this now, I see how ridiculous my life filters are – it was as if I was at a hotel asking to preview a room before giving them my credit card…). 

Our friend peeked in and saw 4 twin beds in a large room. 

“That’s the room???” he asked.

“Well, this is what the rooms all look like,” the staff member explained.

I asked the man in the bed what he thought about this place.  I thought, “Hey, maybe if our friend hears it firsthand from someone who lives here, he will be convinced that this is a cool place”.  And the guy semi sat up and said, I quote, “This is the best place on earth!” (what an endorsement, right???) then added, “If you respect all of the staff and the other residents”.  (Hell, even with the addendum, still a glowing review!)

But our friend had seen enough.

Nope. 

He was done.

Wasn’t signing any papers.

Wasn’t staying.

Was ready to go.

As we headed back downstairs the staff member quietly asked me WHY DHS had sent him THERE, as this was obviously not the right sort of facility for him.  She said (as I have been thinking) he needs SUPPORTED HOUSING, like a group home with supervision and care. 

We headed out to get his bike and pack it back into our car.  I was sad.  I was angry.  I was frustrated.  Not with HIM, but with the whole experience, and with myself.

“Where should we drop you off?” I asked him, likely with a more gruff tone than was called for.

“What?”.  Of course he didn’t understand.  I was asking him to make a CHOICE, make a DECISION.  I knoooow he is incapable of that.

“Where should we take you?” I asked again.  “I guess we will just drop you off in front of (name of the boarded-up restaurant you have been sleeping in front of).”

And as I looked at him, his face dropped.  He went from perfectly fine to being horribly sad. 

“You said something bad,” he said quietly.

And I realized what I had done.  I had verbalized my frustration.  Maybe not in words, but in affect and tone.

“Oh, I am sorry.  I did not mean to be upset.  I am not angry at YOU.  I am angry, but not angry at YOU.”

Tears well up in his eyes.

“Really, I am not mad at you, I promise…”

The sweet staff member walked out to the parking lot to find us just as my friend and I both burst into tears. 

“I am not angry at you.  I am angry at the f-ed up SYSTEM.  The system that should support you but doesn’t.  That can’t understand this situation.  But I promise I am not mad at you.”

We stood in silence a bit.  I felt guilty that I didn’t reach out and give him a hug. He clearly needed one. 

We dried our tears and got the bike sorted in the hatchback.

The staff member thanked us.  He said we were doing a good job. He said he could tell when we walked in that we cared.  And told us that maybe this didn’t work out right now, but we should go to bed tonight knowing that we tried.

As we pulled out of the parking lot I asked, in a calm tone, if he would like to be dropped off where he usually stays. 

He said no, he would rather go to our house.  “Isn’t that where you are going??” he asked.

Why yes, yes it is, friend.

We came home.  Got his bike and his bags out of the car.  And as he regrouped to go about his evening, he asked quite honestly and genuinely, “Now what was I doing??”.

And the cycle continues.

The system isn’t built for people like him.

And maybe sleeping on the sidewalk is what he prefers.

Maybe my idea that only a bed and a pillow can bring comfort is a faulty one.

We will see him again.

I will heat up another meal and serve up another fruit cup.

We will talk about his missing children again.

He will show me the hospital bracelet again from this March (who knows why he was in…) and explain that he doesn’t want to take it off.

He will sleep on the street.

And I will sleep in my bed.

And I have to figure out how to be ok with that.

Good Food

Sometimes being in charge of the Little Yellow Free Pantry overwhelms me.

That’s the truth.

It is not an easy project to manage.  It probably seems easy when you look at it:  a relatively small box, two shelves, with food and toiletries displayed inside.  I mean, how hard can that be to run??

But in reality – it is very hard. 

There are the daily Amazon donations to unpack, bring down to the pantry storage area, and put away.  There are the daily hand delivered donations to sort through (checking “best by” dates), bring down to the pantry storage area, and put away.  There is the Amazon list to keep up to date (don’t want too much of one thing and none of something else).  There is the constant restocking of items in the pantry.  There is greeting guests and running down to the storage area to bring them out bags of what they need.  There is collecting, responding to, shopping for food, and delivering it when notes for special items are left in pantry.

And that doesn’t take into account the physical upkeep of the actual pantry!  Changing batteries when the lights don’t work.  Fixing the doors when they get broken.  Honestly, the whole pantry needs to be rebuilt at the moment as it has been out in the elements for two years and is falling apart a bit.

I tell you these things not to complain – trust me, I loooove being the keeper of the Little Yellow Free Pantry.  It brings me great joy.  But I share those things so that you might get a sense of how it can all get a bit overwhelming sometimes.

But then something happens, something always happens, to center me in the experience and remind me that all of the effort is indeed worth it.

One of those things happened today.  I want to share it with you so that you, too, can get a sense of the value that a tiny box with two shelves can bring to a community.

We were out in the yard, having just hung about 150 plastic eggs filled with treats from our fence for passersby to find and share (with 100 more to hang tomorrow).  It looks like quite a sight - brightly colored plastic eggs dangling from pretty ribbons all along the fence.  Lovely! 

Two women I had never seen before stopped to take it all in.  They looked a bit confused (and I can understand why, the whole vibe of our home can be a touch overwhelming).  They walked to the pantry and stopped to look in.  They didn’t open the doors but peered through the windows of the pantry.  They spoke quietly to one another in a language I could tell was not English, but they were so quiet I couldn’t make it out.  Then one of them said to me, “Food??”. 

“Yes!” I told them.  “Food!  For all (I gestured around the neighborhood)”.  More quiet talking, likely translating what I had tried to explain.  “For you!  You can have”.  Quiet talking…  “What would you like?  Soup?  Peanut butter?  Tea?” I tried.  “Eggs??” was the quiet response.  Sadly, I had just given away the eggs this morning…  “Hmmm, no eggs…  You wait – I will show!  Please stay,” I said as I rushed in to fill a basket with choices.  With the language barrier I figured it would be easier to SHOW than TELL. 

I brought out a basket of items and some cloth grocery bags.  I gave each woman a bag and held up an item.  “Soup – yes or no??”   “Yes!”  I put it into one of their bags.  “Shampoo (gesturing to show washing my hair) – yes or no?”  “Yes,” they said as they caught on to the system. 

One by one we went through the items, some yes, some no.  After one yes on a food item, the woman asked, “Is good??”.  Hmmm, what did she mean?  Does it taste good?  She saw the confusion on my face and tried again.  “Is, ummm, expire??” she asked.  “Ahhh, no!!  Not expired!  Good!  Good.  All good.  All food here – GOOD,” I explained.  And then I realized that this must seem too good to be true.  How had they happened upon such a place – a place that would help them fill their bellies and wash their hair – and the things they would be given were nice and fresh and new and GOOD.  (And I where had they been given things that were not good, and so often that they had learned the word “expire”….)

I asked where they were from and they told me Afghanistan.  They have been here for one and a half years.  Meaning – they are refugees of the war. 

It is moments like that when I am reminded that the mission of the pantry is important.  Not only does it provide nourishment to many, it also provides hope.  It provides welcome.  It provides community.  

Welcome to the neighborhood, ladies.  I wish we had met you sooner.  I am thankful you walked by today and were brave enough to stop and talk.  May America be a safe place for you.  May you make many friends in this country.  And may your food always be GOOD.

Cold, Sticky Kindness

So, not gonna lie.

Sometimes the injustices, the inequities, and the overall sadness of life get to me. A friend's husband got bad news on his health today. A neighbor confided over tears yesterday that her husband is drinking (again) and it is causing huge problems. Two friends are working very hard to get out of abusive situations... The world piles on a LOT sometimes and it is hard to see the positive.

Last night I couldn't sleep. Only, I wasn't worried about anything, but I had an IDEA that I couldn't stop thinking about: POPSICLES.

The weather report said today was going to have a high of 86 degrees, and it was spot on. Instead of spring, it felt like a summer day. And I wanted to celebrate that with POPSICLES. For everyone.

I asked David to do a grocery run to stock up on a variety of popsicles today, and I did another quick run for more (and ice) after I finished work. I had posted in two local groups that people could stop by between 6:30 pm - 7:45 pm tonight for a popsicle, but of course I had no idea how many would show up.

I "opened" early - 6:25. I think it was because I was so excited! And for the first few minutes I sat on the front porch steps alone... But then people started coming! Neighbors who had seen the post and came specifically for a treat. Joggers who paused when they saw the action and got a popsicle. A pantry guest on his way home from work who was surprised that he could get not only his instant mashed potatoes in the pantry, but also a popsicle!

Around 50 people came. We chatted. Kids got sticky, the kind of sticky a good popsicle makes you.

The horribleness in the world still remains. One evening of fresh air and popsicles cannot cure that. But people came. Neighbors talked. I met new people. Babies ate their first popsicles.

Earth shattering? Not at all. But a little drop in the bucket toward making the world a better place.

Kindness Activist funds used: $51.95 (and enough leftovers in the freezer to host another popsicle night)

Magic spread: impossible to measure, but I for one feel a bit better about the world tonight.

#KindnessActivist #MeetYourNeighbors #Popsicles

A Hot Meal (But No Bed)

Was it how I PLANNED to spend a chunk of my Wednesday evening??  Well…  No, not really.

And yet – here I am smiling and glad that I did.

I finished work today and as I opened the front door to go out and get some sunshine and fresh air, I saw my friend, the pantry guest who cries so easily and “knew my mother” (in his mind, though in my reality the two of them could never, ever have been in the same place at the same time).  I rushed out to greet him – had to hurry as he was walking his sky blue bicycle away from our house (having already stopped by the Little Yellow Pantry to pick up some food).

I hollered his name and said, “Come on back – have a seat on the steps.  I will make you a hot dinner!  You hungry??”. 

I have been working on how I speak to him.  In our interactions, I have come to realize that my “need to be polite” leads to me asking a lot of questions.  And questions are something that my friend cannot handle.  Even what seem like a simple question – “Hey there!  Which would you to eat tonight – chicken noodle soup or chili with beans??” presents an overwhelming choice for him.  So, this evening I carefully just put it out there – dinner would be served soon, come sit (though I fell back into my old questioning habit with, “Are you hungry??”.  That damn midwestern female need to be polite…)

I rushed inside carrying a pantry donation that had just been unpacked from one of five or six huge Amazon boxes that got delivered today:  a Velveeta cheesy chicken alfredo dish.  I bunged it in the microwave (“bung” is a term of art that only refers to microwave cooking, isn’t it?  I like it) and ran downstairs to the pantry storage area to get his favorite – a fruit cup – and a Gatorade (courtesy of the amazing mystery donor who is so, so, so supportive of the pantry).

When the food was hot I went out to deliver it and sit with my friend as he ate.  He deemed the meal “very good”, and I bragged about my excellent cooking skills. 

He and I had a meal like this yesterday, too.  Same location:  our front steps.  Different main course:  hot vegetable beef soup.  Same dessert:  fruit cup.  And same conversation – about how “things are different” now, about how he “has he had a car…”  The same conversations we have each time.  And when I chime in a point that I know about his stories, one he hasn’t gotten to yet, he looks at me with sheer confusion and said, “How did you know that???”.  Ahhh sir, because you have told me this story 300 times…

His friendship has taken on more of a sense of urgency lately, as I have learned that he is unhoused…  He told me when we first met (when I asked “where are you staying?”) that he was sleeping at a friend’s house.  It seemed factual, not like one of the confusing statements that he makes.  I was relieved to know that even though he seems to wander the community all day on his blue bicycle, at least he had a couch somewhere to sleep on (and a blanket, I hoped).  But a different friend told me the other day that she really thought he was homeless.  I begged to differ (I wanted it not to be true), but have driven by the little spot where he snuggles in for the night 3 or 4 times now and he is there every time.

Tonight he and I had a long conversation.  We talked about the usual stuff, and we even got to laughing.  He remembered some new details tonight!  He remembered that his father worked in a store in DC, and that if someone got caught stealing from that store, the security guards beat them up.  He has mentioned his father before, but never his mother.  So I broke my rule of not asking questions and said, “Hey, do you remember your mother??”.  That stumped him.  He thought and thought and couldn’t for the life of him recall his mother.  (Odd, isn’t it?  His memory can serve up images of my mother quick as you please, but ask about his own mother and he draws a blank).  “Maybe she died when you were young, and that’s why you don’t remember her,” I offered. 

He talked again about how he used to sleep in the basement of this house, the one we call The Big Yellow House.  He was stumped by that…  “Your mother…  Why?  Why did your mother???”…  He had us both laughing at one point when he decided that the reason he knew my mother was because she sold him marijuana.  “What????” I guffawed, “MY MOTHER SOLD YOU MARIJUANA???  I don’t think so!!”.  “Well, it wasn’t COCAINE…” he stated. 

At one point he lifted his pant leg to scratch, and I saw that he had a lead from the hospital stuck to his ankle.  “You have been in the hospital!!” I declared.  It felt like I was solving a mystery.  Only, the it was a mystery to us both, as he had no memory of being in the hospital.  Well, he DID tell me the story (again…) about how he was in THREE HOSPITALS, and he doesn’t know HOW he got there but he didn’t like it.  “Well yes, you were in three hospitals.  But that was a long time ago (I have pieced that together from his stories).  THIS hospital visit was recent – look – you still have the thing stuck to your ankle!!”.  Nope.  That rang no bells.  No recollection at all about having had a hospital visit recently.

Empty fruit cup, and the hospital lead I convinced him to peel off 

I explained to him tonight that I think he is not staying with a friend at night but is sleeping outdoors.  He wasn’t sure about that…  “Well, where are you staying?” I asked.  “I don’t really know…”. 

And I believe him.  He doesn’t really know.  I don’t think he is lying. When he told me he was spending the night at a friend’s a few months ago, he thought that was true (and maybe it was at the time…).  But now, now he is definitely on the street.  But isn’t it a strange trick of the mind that I know that fact but he, the person who it is actually happening to, doesn’t?

I talked with him about the local shelter and played up how nice it would be:  a bed!  A shower!  Hot meals!!  He seemed to think it sounded like a good idea, too, and asked if I could call them.  I did call but it was after hours and the staff couldn’t answer my questions of how to get him a bed.

So here is our plan:  I will call the shelter tomorrow.  I will try and understand the system and how he might fit into it.  And for his part?  He agreed to come back tomorrow after I have the information.  “What time??” he asked me 6 or 7 times.  We agreed on “oh – around 2:00 pm”.

Will he remember to come?  I rather doubt it.  But I will have the information and we will take it from there. 

Roadtrip Kindness

My partner David and I have embarked on a little ROAD TRIP!  And as fun as it is to hop in the car and DRIVE, exploring new places – it also means I am neglecting my duties at the Little Yellow Free Pantry.

Luckily, we have a crack PANTRY CREW that steps in while I am not there!! 

You see, the Little Yellow Free Pantry runs on a bit of a different system than most Free Pantries and Free Libraries.  Usually, when you see a “pantry out in the wild”, it is dependent upon community members to physically FILL IT UP.  People bring cans of vegetables and bags of rice and beans and boxes of pasta and physically put in IN THE PANTRY.

But since the inception of the Little Yellow Free Pantry two years ago, we have run it on a different model.  We treat the LYFP as more of a grocery store than a random pantry.  We organize it the same each time we fill it – 2 cans of meat on the left front corner of the top shelf, canned goods filling the rest of the top shelf.  Snacks in the small box on the bottom shelf, 2 single servings of fruit on the front left corner of the bottom shelf, rice and pasta on the bottom shelf, etc.  I like to keep the system consistent so that visitors to the LYFP have a general idea of where to find what they need.  It’s just like when you go to the grocery store – if you are there often, you know which aisle to look for toilet paper in, right? 

But to keep the pantry running with that system, instead of donors putting their items directly into the LYFP, we ask that they place items in a large bin on our front porch.  Or have them delivered via Amazon or another mail order service.  Then we (David, me, or a pantry crew member) carries all of those donations down to our pantry storage area, where they are sorted.  The storage area is quite organized – like a grocery store stockroom!  Canned meat in one area, drinks in another, cake mix in another, toiletries in another…  It is hard work carrying everything down and shelving it, but it makes it much easier when I go to fill the pantry (which is currently about 7 times per day), because I know exactly where to find what is needed.

So, while we are away, the beloved Pantry Crew takes over and keeps things running smoothly for Pantry visitors.  I am so thankful for that crew!! 

But here’s a secret:  I miss the LYFP when we are gone!  I miss the guests I have come to know.  I miss opening the boxes of donations and sorting them.  And I miss carrying out my wicker basket full of things to refill the pantry.

So, maybe that is why when we pulled into Asheville, North Carolina and passed a Little Free Pantry outside of Grace Baptist Church, my heart was happy.  Only, when we drove by a second time, I realized that it was nearly completely empty…  Not only that – it was in bad shape.  The plexiglass (maybe glass??) in the door was missing. 

Blessing Box - in need of repair, but more than that, 
IN NEED OF FOOD!

We don’t have the tools or supplies with us to replace the plexiglass, but we COULD stock the pantry!  So we took a trip to Aldi!  It was so fun to fill the cart with a wide variety of items (and because it was Aldi, we got much more for our money, they have great prices!).

 

Cart full of food for the Blessing Box

We took our haul back to where we had seen the pantry (which they called a Blessing Box), and the situation was even worse than it had looked from the road.  The Box needed the plexiglass repaired and a good cleaning.  And the only things on the shelves were 2 cans of food and a single tea bag…  Sad. There seems to be a lot of need in that community.

 

We carefully filled the shelves while we shivered in the cold.  Tiny snowflakes were even falling!  Even without a cleaning or new paint, the Blessing Box looked much happier just being filled!

 

MUCH BETTER!!

I hope that members of the community who need the food find it.  And I hope that members of the community who have more than they need will fill that box up again and again. 

 

Because everybody deserves good food.

 

Please seek out Little Free Pantries or Blessing Boxes in your community.  Donate an item or two.  If everyone pitches in, the shelves stay full, and neighbors do not go hungry.  If you would like to donate to the Little Yellow Free Pantry, our Amazon wishlist is here:  LYFP Amazon Wishlist

Kindness Activist funds used:  $88.26

Special Delivery - YOUR DINNER! (Kindness Activist Funds Update)

Ready for another report on how some Kindness Activist funds have been used??  Let’s do it!!

 

One thing we have been doing lately is treating people to dinner deliveries!  It’s been really fun. 

 

The idea started one evening when we had to go out after work and do something, even though it was cold and really dark.  I didn’t want to go out, but we had a commitment that we had to follow through on.  Well, I figured it I wasn’t in the mood to go out, there were likely others in the same position…  And since we were out anyway, we might as well fill some dinner orders!!

 

So, I posted in a neighborhood Facebook group that we would pick up dinner for someone and drop it off to them.  I gave a choice of some fast food restaurants in the neighborhood (Wendy’s, McDonald’s, and Burger King).  And I specified that we were not necessarily going to pick the first person who responded (because, you know how it goes, some people are fortunate enough (or addicted enough…) to be on their phone 24/7, and they respond first to everything!!

 

For two people who eat fast food only a handful of times a year, we sure have bought a lot of it lately!

The first time we did this we bought and delivered meals to a single mom and her 2 kids and boy oh boy, were they excited!!  The second time we delivered meals to a mom of one who was also babysitting a niece, and to another woman.  And tonight we made 3 deliveries – a woman who just had hand surgery and her husband, a family of 4, and a woman who was in the mood for fast food!  We did all of the orders one at a time tonight (we only have 2 cup holders in the car and we don’t want to spill…).  By the third time thru the Wendy’s drive-thru the man sort of recognized us 😊 .

 

I share this idea with you because it is so easy and it has brought so many people such joy!  It is a fun use of Kindness Activist funds.  It nourishes people and makes them happy.  And hey, we had to be out in the cold anyway!!

 

Total Kindness Activist funds spent on getting and delivering meals to people:  $168.73 (fast food has really gotten expensive!)

 

Yesterday I saw this message posted in a different Facebook group: “Hi neighbors who would like to support our neighborhood Title I school, Hoffman Boston elementary.  Our school and school community does not have the resources to pay for the teachers to have dinner today, parent/teacher conference day. Teachers will not have time to pick up dinner themselves and will be working around 12 hours today (after teaching our children all morning and early afternoon).

If you would like to contribute, consider bringing a dish by between 3-4 PM to the school or alternatively (and preferred) you can use the link below to donate via Pay Pal or Venmo and your donation will be used to support the school and with dinner tonight.”

 

Well, I have had a hard week at work, so making a dish to deliver was not in the cards.  But thankfully, because of amazing donors of items and shoppers at the Kindness Yard Sale and other donations that have come in, I was able to contribute money to help buy dinners for teachers.  Because let’s be honest here – teachers have some of the hardest jobs on the planet. Tiny humans are entrusted to them, and not only do they have to ensure those humans are not injured, they have to TEACH THEM THINGS, HARD THINGS!!  And teachers in America do not get paid enough for the work that they do. 

 

So yeah, donating to this meal for teachers was a no-brainer.  (And I heard today that enough food and funds were collected for all teachers to eat, and some even got seconds!)

 

Total Kindness Activist funds spent on pitching in to help ensure that teachers got a good meal:  $125

 

Sticking with the food theme – we paid for another stranger’s groceries at the Trader Joe’s check-out.  This is such a fun way to surprise someone!  The store was really crowded, so I just stayed at the register stand after we paid for ours (pretending to play with our bags or something…) until the cashier finished ringing up the woman behind us.  “May I pay??” I asked.  “Ummm, what?  Really???  Umm, sure!!” she replied. 

 

Her smile lit up the store, and she was still muttering to herself about the magic of it all as she wheeled her cart out into the parking lot.

Random Trader Joe's photo from what feels like another lifetime - the year I reviewed one Trader Joe's product every single day of the year and visited TJs stores all around the country

Total Kindness Activist funds spent paying for a stranger’s groceries:  $27.04

 

Danyi, a woman in our community is an amazing artist.  But she is a refugee and does not have the means to buy art supplies.  What I love about her work is that she turns anything (and everything) into art!!  She makes art out of old lightbulbs!  Art out of cardboard!  Art out of bubble wrap!  Art out of lampshades!  Art out of rocks!! 

 

And while she can and does find objects like that on the side of the road or in garbage cans, the ink and paint she needs to transform them must be purchased.  And that takes money.

 

Recently she told me that she would really like some nice INK to paint with.  She had secured some silk somewhere, and she needed good quality ink to turn it into art. 

A recent creation by Danyi, painted on part of a box

 

Because of the privilege of being the caretaker of the Kindness Activist funds, I could grant that wish!  Just a few clicks and a couple of days later, 2 jars of nice ink arrived and were gifted to her.  I can’t wait to see how the silk pieces turn out!

 

Another piece by Danyi painted on a box

Total Kindness Activist funds spent on ink for an artist:  $38.26

  

Now for the last accounting story for today.  A member of our community recently asked if anyone had any adult coloring books.  She was collecting them to give to someone who would be in the hospital a while. 

 

I reached out to see if there were other things that might be needed, and learned that the requester is a nurse in a prepartum care unit at a local hospital.  Here’s what she told me, “I am a labor and delivery nurse at VHC, I specifically take care of our antepartum patients who are high risk pregnant patients who can stay anywhere from a few days to weeks and months on our unit in this hospital.  So, this would be for a mom who we are keeping pregnant for many weeks.  I asked this mom yesterday what she would like to do to stay busy and she said she enjoys coloring. I thought we had some coloring books on the unit but found none, so thought maybe our community might have some I could use on the unit/to give to this patient.”

 

Once again, see how easy and fun it is to find ways to spread kindness???  I went to the store $5 Below because I knew they usually have good coloring books.  I stocked up on coloring books and a lot more – candies (after confirming it was ok for the mom to eat sugar), coloring pencils and pens, a journal, and lots of other goodies.  Then, I wrapped them all individually (I figured if this mamma was stuck alone in the hospital, maybe opening some gifts would brighten up her day!!).

 

But I got to thinking – imagine how hard those nurses work…  Like teaching, nursing is a tough profession and, if I may be so blunt, does not get the respect that it deserves.  So, I grabbed Starbucks gift cards for the nurses in the unit and wrapped each with a pretty ribbon and a little note thanking them for their hard work. 

 

Total Kindness Activist funds spent on gifts for a pregnant mom and nurses on the unit:  $172.67

 

That’s it for tonight’s stories.  I will update on how the funds are being used again soon.  In the meantime, I hope we run into each other in the wild!!  Maybe YOU will get surprised with free groceries next time you go shopping…  Or hey, if these examples of spreading kindness have inspired YOU (or as I like to say, have made a kindness ripple…) then perhaps YOU will go out into the world and spread some kindness soon!!  I would love to hear about it if you do!  Please email me stories of how you are spreading kindness at:  KindnessActivist@gmail.com  .  Thanks!