Nesting, Grooming & Other Mammalian Intincts

Some days are more conducive to being kind than others.  Not necessarily because I am in a bad mood, or because I am a hate monger. I mean, sometimes that's it.  But, it can also be plenty of non-hateful reasons.  For example:

• There are sometimes whole, entire days where I do not leave my house at all.  I am a shut-in and I'm fine with it.
• There are days when I am non-stop, no room for anything extra, completely chaotic busy.  I hate these days, and I usually over-correct by shutting in.
• Then, there are days when you start packing suitcases because your maybe-baby's birthmother is starting to have contractions.  Ahhhhhhh!

Yep.  You read that right.  Nothing is ever for sure in this thing called adoption, but as it stands... we are just waiting for a call to head to Manhattan to GET OUR BABY BOY!!!  The birthmother will be induced by Saturday at the latest, so that means it will literally be any day.  My heart is simultaneously full of joy and breaking from sadness.

I am beyond excited about the possibility of this being our "mistry baby," and on the the other hand I am thinking of this young woman who is experiencing all of the labor pains and fears and concerns... and will ultimately walk away without her child to make it all feel worth it.  I have the utmost respect for birthmothers and I know that I can not undo the pain that this separation will bring to them both.  I am amazed at her tenacity and her fight and her stubborn strength so far... and I am so afraid that if I get the chance to meet her, that I will totally blow it.

Needless to say, I spent the day doing mostly household kindnesses.  I don't know how to cope with all the maybes... maybe this will be the one, or maybe not!  Maybe she will change her mind when she gives birth, or maybe she won't!  Maybe you will have the baby for a month and then she'll change her mind, or maybe not!  Maybe I will say the wrong thing to her, or maybe I won't get to meet her at all.  Maybe, maybe, maybe... It is just enough to make you snap at your husband all day for no reason.  Not that I have done that, I am just saying that I could see how an otherwise lovely gal, could get a little sass to her in such a situation.  

For Day 16, Tom mowed our neighbor's yard.  Not the swearer, but the other neighbor, who actually works third shift, and I don't really know what hours those are, but I don't think he comes home during mowin' hours.  Sure, the yard is teeny tiny, and he did it while looking like a mad scientist, because his hair was completely out of control... but he got the job done and it is gonna have to count because Mama was a crazy lady today.  Which leads us to my family-focused kindesses:

1. Haircuts all around.  Tom honestly looked like Sideshow Bob, so I de-Sideshow Bobbed him and he is looking fresh and handsome.  I gave Harper the sweetest "mowhog" he ever saw, and he couldn't have been happier.  Well, that's not true, he actually would have been much happier if I had acquiesced to his demand that I shave off his eyebrows.  Still, he is also fresh and handsome.  Marlie got a trim in time for picture day.  I got rid of London's Beatles mullet and Annalee is currently growing out, and passed on the trim altogether.  I also trimmed my own hair.  Since I have always cut all 6 (almost 7!! maybe.) of our hair... I will save our family about a quarter of a million dollars in hair grooming services over the course of our lifetime.  That is very kind of me, thank you very little.
2. I did 155 loads of laundry.  I am nearly caught up.
3. I started PACKING A SUITCASE!!  Bottles, onesies, bibs, burp rags... all the stuff I forgot about completely.  

Okay, I realize that I was hardly Mother Theresa today, but I am under a great deal of stress...and c'mon... I am preparing to retrieve an orphan.  Does that not count!?  If that doesn't count, then I should show a before picture of my husband's hair.  You would realize the great kindness I have bestowed upon the general public just by removing the wild Mufasa mane that was Medusa-ing directly outward from his temples.

Coffee and C.P.F.D. (Care Package Flashback Disorder)

We are halfway through this month people.  I know it sounds like doing 15 kind things isn't that big of a deal... and you are probably right.  Except that you're not right, you're wrong, and it is a big deal.  And why do you have to be so negative about it anyways?

Here is how I know that it is a big deal.  Today, Harper (5) and London (2) were playing in the yard and they went over to the shed, knocked on the door and shouted "Is anybody home!?  Open up!  We have your kindness!"  My kids are playing kindness!  In the almost nine years that I have been a mom, I have learned that kids often use play to act out what they see happening in their daily lives.  I have seen my kids chastise, feed and rock their baby dolls, and put their "awesome football guy" in a time out, and London has covered her stuffed animals' eyes with their little fluffy paws so she can have "pwivatesy" in the bathroom.  They play what they live... and I think it is a big deal that they are playing kindness.

Then again, their random act of kindness was delivering three shovels to the empty shed... which was even worse than offending those ladies at the bus stop with all the delicious donuts.  Harper and London got about as much eye contact from the shed as I got from those ladies.

So, Day 15, the halfway point.  I bought coffee and delivered it to the wonderful teachers who get to shape and teach my two precious girls everyday.  Annalee had gotten the inside scoop (not so subtly) on her teachers' dream coffee.  The two little ones and I delivered those coffees first.  The teachers had been following along on the blog, so they already knew about the 31 days.

Problem #1:  If your children's teachers are reading your personal blog, then they know that you are a crazy person.

Problem #2:  If your children's teachers are awesome, they will overlook said craziness and invite you to help lead a children's writing workshop.

Problem #3: Said crazy person will likely agree impulsively  though she has absolutely zero credentials or legitimate experience in writing and/or workshopping.  

Next stop was to deliver coffee to Marlie's teacher.

Problem #4:  I do not know how this man takes his coffee.  In fact, I know very little about this man, except what I can get from Marlie which is that "He is a man, and he always has a little chest hair peeking out."  This tidbit was a great image to have, but not helpful in determining his coffee order.

Problem #5:  If said crazy person delivers coffee to a teacher while the kids are in art class, he is likely making copies in the copy room.  This is not the time to say his name, or he may jump and squeal like he was poked in the side with a little spear.

After the yelp, he acknowledged that he scares easy (as do I) and he thanked me genuinely  for the coffee.  When we were leaving the school, Harper asked, "When is it time for our kindness?"  I reminded him that our kindness was bringing coffee to all those teachers.  He clarified that he meant, "when would weeee get a little of that kindness??"  Just as I am finishing the sentence, "I think we are plenty kind to ourselves."  I open the car door directly into London's forehead.  She falls on the ground holding her injured "eye-bow."  Harper looked at me like "That was not exactly what I had in mind."

Since crunching the children with doors was the kindest thing I had done for them... it was a nice surprise to come home to these on my porch:

As I shared previously, my mother sends the worst care packages in history, so this was simultaneously exciting and terrifying.  One package was from my friend Julie, and was full of all these great things for our maybe baby:

And just to drag up all my childhood baggage, my friend Julie threw in this almost used stack of sticky notes:

The other package was from my mother.  The mother of the worst care packages in history.  In case you didn't believe my post about this.  Here is photo evidence:

And if that picture of me in that hat isn't hideous enough, she finally sent gummies. In rat form.

 

So Day 15 was a day of giving and receiving, agreeing to shape the young minds of children at a workshop I am not qualified to be a part of, crunching the baby's head with the car door and eating a rat. All in all, I would say that is a pretty solid halfway point.  I think that my brother would be absolutely delighted that my mother is still terrorizing us via care packages, and I think that this half-month of kindness has been the best way to honor the boy who broke all of her wooden spoons so she couldn't whack him for being irritating.

Kindness is a Gamble

I ain't usually a gamblin' man.  I mean, I'm not a man at all, but if I were, I wouldn't really be the gamblin' type.  But I got a cute idea from a friend about anonymously giving a lottery ticket to a stranger with a note that says "hope you win!"

I planned to buy five $1 scratch off tickets and hide them in random places.  I put my twenty dollar bill into this lotto machine:

Then I saw this sign:

Problem #1: THIS MACHINE DOES NOT GIVE CHANGE. (Esta maquina no da cambio.)

Problem #2: I needed so much change.  (Yo necessito mi dinero back.)

Well, that wasn't going to happen, so I had no choice but to buy so many lotto tickets.  I attached each ticket to a note like this:

And I placed them in random places for random people to feel randomly kinded.  I put them here:

And here:

And I threw one in here:

I tried again to be kind here at the bus stop where I struck out days ago:

And I even threw one in here:

Problem #4: If a gal like me walks into a public restroom, closes herself into a stall and starts taking cell phone pictures... it freaks people out. I think the sound of the tape dispenser just before the picture taking really threw that poor lady for a loop. (For future reference, I will turn off the clicky "chk-chk" sound next time I am using my camera in a public restroom for any reason.  We really don't need anyone speculating...)

I did play and win big myself... two whole bucks back in my pocket.  

Problem #5: When one accidentally and significantly overspends on lotto tickets, one may be insulted at such small winnings.

Well, there you have it.  Day 14.  I may be out $13 more than I planned... but, I feel just a little richer for it.  I sincerely hope that some stranger wins big and that the story will remain that the kindness of an anonymous stranger led to some Average Joe becoming a very Rich Joe who is known more than anything else for being a very Generous Joe.

What if you don't love your neighbor?

The Bible says to love your neighbor as yourself.  First of all, I would never wish that on anyone.  I tend to be self-critical, a tad condemning and typically lack self-compassion... so, I strive to love my neighbor as I should love myself and I am also hoping to be a little kinder to myself too.  I truly want to live out this Biblical command in a literal and tangible way...but I caught myself today, Day 13, dragging my feet on my act of kindness for the day because I do not really loooove my neighbor.

Since nobody really speaks hypothetically, I am just gonna shoot ya straight.  My neighbor swears all night long and she drove her car into her own house, hypothetically speaking.

I so desperately want to be the kind of woman who can't help just lovin' on people.  I try, I really do.  I am friendly and I try to have conversations and I have offered to help with her son when she is running late getting him off the bus.  But, if I am being really honest... I judge her.  I am so ashamed to admit that, but I do.  I judge her parenting style, her phone conversations (which I can hear loud and clear 22 hours a day) and I judge the number of horrible things she says in front of her child.  I am not the kind of woman who just loves on someone until they soften and change... I am a wicked, judgmental woman.  Surprise.  It's so sad.

I have this internal battle with people like this... I genuinely want to love them and soften them and I want to walk through life with broken people, ministering to their souls.  But, on the other hand, I also kinda want to slap broken people, because they are usually breaking someone else in the meantime.  Sometimes I wonder if I had a bit more self-compassion, and was less critical of myself, and if I chose to view myself through the lens of grace... that I just might be a little less judgmental and more gracious toward others.

So, I brought some apple crisp.  I brought it over to my neighbor and it was well received and that's really where it all ends.  I hear no swearing tonight, so I am gonna believe that my apple crisp was ministering to their marital souls and that they feel loved by the wicked witch to the west.
 

How Much is That Doggy in the Window

When I was little, I used to follow my brother Adam around like a puppy.  In fact, his wrestling team gave me the nickname lil' pinner because not only did I look like Adam, but because I would follow him around at his wrestling meets, often times wearing his sweathsirt, eating Jello jigglers, and practicing my wrestling moves on the mat.  I wanted to be just like him, even in his wrestling skills... which were superior enough to earn him 2nd in State his junior year, and also the nickname Pinner.  As I shared earlier, my brother passed away on Halloween night when he was a senior in high school.  That night, I had unknowingly walked house to house, trick-or-treating on the same street that he would later be tragically shot and killed.  For my Halloween costume that night, I had dressed up like Adam.

I wore his wrestling singlet, his warm-ups and his headgear.  I was lil' pinner.

If all of my following and idolizing every bothered Adam, he never once let me know.  He tolerated my presence and so did his friends.  Only once did he ever initiate this type of behavior though, and it is one of my favorite memories of Adam.  He actually asked me to follow him around.  We had just gotten a new puppy, a tiny little maltese, named Mia, that was just big enough to stretch to the size of your palm.  I had just finished soccer practice and had gone over to the stadium to watch Adam's soccer game.  I was sitting on the bleachers with Mia sleeping inside my shinguard, on my lap.  After the game, Adam saw his cute little sister, holding a cute little puppy who was sleeping in a tiny shinguard.  He insisted that I follow him around, like a puppy... and with a puppy!  It took me a while to realize why he dragged me around that stadium until every pretty girl got a good look at him in all his tender glory with his baby sister and adorable sleeping puppy.

This memory was sparked by my friend, Chrisann, who volunteers at an Animal Rescue in Kalamazoo, Michigan.  Every year they do a big fundraising event and silent auction and she works hard to accumulate items to auction to raise money for food, supplies and medical care for lots of adorable little puppies.  This has to be a thankless job in a lot of ways, so, for Day 12, I mailed two my headbands to Miss Chrisann to go to the highest bidder.  I am sure these will bring in millions upon millioins of dollars. Each.

Actually, I have to admit that today I was a little less others-focused than I have been for most of this month. Instead I was a little more focused on the "oh boy, we are maybe having a baby any minute, which will change the trajectory of our entire lives, for the rest of our lives, so I should complete nine months of nesting in 24 hours just in case because I should be ready for anything... orrrr nothing will happen at all."  So, completing an act of kindness today was not going to happen randomly, it had to be intentional... and I needed back up.

So, I packaged everything up and sent my boys on a mission to the post office.  I handed Harper a candy and gave him clear instructions to give the treat to the postal worker and say "my family is doing 31 days of kindness, so this is for you!"

Instead, Harper said "It's 30 kindness!"

Since the postal worker doesn't speak cryptic five year old, he rejected the treat and sited "I don't eat candy" as his excuse.  Tom politely encouraged him to do the kid a solid and "maybe he could share the candy with a friend."  He accepted, but wasn't really thrilled about it.  The most shocking thing I have learned so far this month is how difficult it is for people to graciously accept kindness from a shady stranger.

I am beyond guilty of this.  I can't even graciously accept a gift (or a even a compliment) from a close friend without a stupid reaction of shock and guilt and fear.  I cannot imagine that this is the joyful response a gift-giver is hoping for.  I must have ruined so many generous moments for people.  I am learning not to rob people of the blessing of giving, because I feel guilty receiving.

I had a little practice with it today when my old friend, Julie, offered to send some baby boy clothes and cloth diapers our way.  My first instinct was to lie and say "No, we don't need anything, we have all things we need, always, everything is fine and we never need. Ever"  I tried a little of that, but she shut me down pretty quick and I am pretty sure the items shipped today.  Too kind.

I get it.  It is hard to accept the baby clothes, or the diapers, or the squashed candy from the boy at the post office.  Honestly though, just take the stinkin' candy bar already and keep your trap shut.  Act excited and blessed and maybe even kiss a lady on the mouth.  That's the fun of giving, and that is what makes it contagious.

Day 11 + Bonus Feature: ADOPTION UPDATE

Day 11 blew my mind.  What I did today was not very mind blowing... but the day itself has blown my mind.  In the interest of saving us all some precious time... I am going to neatly list the events of the day below.  Let us not forget that this is my blog, and while I am trying to act kind in the outside world, in my blog world... I get to be as rude and bossy as I like.  So, just start loving the bullet points.

• I attempted to bring donut holes to some ladies at a bus stop, because it was about 47 degrees and for me, that's quittin' weather.  I brought them over, briefly explained what I was doing, and they refused to even look at my face.  They just said "no thank you, ma'am."  After rethinking the situation, I fear that they think that I thought that they were homeless.  My bad.
• So, I took my donut holes over to the guy who wears the Cash for Gold sandwich board sign.  I just gotta believe that that is a horrible job.  Who ever said "Ya know, I was on my way to some place else, but that sign just drew me right in and I couldn't help but bring you all these gold watches."  Who has gold they no longer want, on their person?  I understand a sign that says "Stop here for a delicious food item!"  Because in the impulse of the moment, the sing might actually work.  But nobody in the history of the world has impulsively exchanged precious metals for cash money.  So, he gets donuts.  He was happy to look me in the eye and was even so thankful that he offered to pay it forward by taking me to "a nice dinner and a movie."  I pulled out my go-to response when a situation like this comes up... I say something along the lines of "Yeah, that sounds like fun... but, I would have to check with my HUSBAND to see if he will babysit all FOUR of our kids."  (Insert good-natured chuckle.)  He no longer wanted to do dinner and a movie and thought that Tom might "come after him with a hammer."  Which I would pay good money to see.  But, I'll have to convert all my gold first.  
• I went to the post office to mail more M&M's to my pregnant stepsister, because she saw that picture from my blog and gave me a facebook message that was the equivalent of puppy dog eyes.  Plus, she is building my niece or nephew from scratch... so she gets candy.
• I bought five more stamps to leave at the register for the next stamp-needer.  The post lady almost wouldn't let me do it!  She was very leery, asking if it was some kind of chain letter and "what does it all meeeean anyway?"  I couldn't understand how it could possibly have anything to do with a chain letter, but I assured her that no curse would come from anyone not willing to participate... but that I did hope that it had a chain reaction type of effect.  She did not seem to think it would, but I think she secretly loved me for it.  
• THEN.  This has nothing to do with random acts of kindness... it has more to with our current adoption process.  I got a call from our social worker and she gave us some information about a birthmother we have been praying for since July.  She had chosen our profile (which means that of all the families whose information/photo books she saw, she chose ours!)... but later had fallen out of touch for about a month.  Eventually, after a long time with no contact from the birthmom, the social workers decided that it wasn't fair to keep us waiting for a situation that was obviously not going anywhere... until TODAY when we learned that this baby is coming any day and (at this point) the birthmother still wants us to parent this baby.  Nothing is set in stone, clearly, but we are potentially going to get a call any time saying to go to Manhattan to pick up our baby boy!  
• Tom is in a catatonic state, there was even a low hissing sound at one point.  I'm not sure where the confusion came in... I know that he filled out the paperwork and went to all the same interviews that I went to.  He has saved money and raised funds like a champ... but, somehow he forgot that all of this results in BABY #5!!  Welp, surprise!  He'll get on board soon enough, and maybe then I can take the bib off him.  Just kidding... he isn't really that bad.  He's just a little stunned at how quickly things turn around in this journey.  I am a little stunned myself.  But even at my worst, I would never, ever hiss.

To support our adoption, consider doing a Random Act of Kindness by making a donation... 

or stop here to buy a shirt.

YOU get a car, and YOU get a car...

Since there seem to be some readers who are joining this journey a little late, I will make it easy to catch up here:  Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day Six, Day Seven, Day 8, and Day 9.

Now that you have the whole picture of how this month has gone... you may be wondering about Day 10.

I fell asleep in the rocking chair and just woke up in the shape of a question mark.  So, I am tired and sore and really want to go back to bed.  But, as my one last act of kindness for the day... I will not leave my millions (handfuls) of followers hanging.

So, today might seem a little anti-climactic, but it was the best reaction I have gotten from someone yet.  I have discovered that people are very suspicious of you when you randomly behave kindly.  They look at you with a lot of suspicion, like you are about to yell that they just got punked.  To be honest, the first reaction a lot of people seem to have is anger.  I mean, I get it, nothing ticks me right off like a bunch of kindness, right!?  I don't think people are actually angry, I think they are just afraid to get excited because even the smallest act of generosity from a stranger seems like an internet scam in on the horizon.

So, I had to get a few things at the store, and when I was in the checkout line, I bought three Snickers.  I paid for all my items, and the cashier was probably a 15 year old kid.  He bagged my items and handed me the receipt.  I thanked him and said "Oh, but this is actually for you."

I handed him the Snickers and it was as if I gave him the keys to a brand new car.  Ha!  He just keep saying "No!  You serious?  Really?  Naw, I can't accept that.  Really!?  It's for me?  You can take it, I can't take that from you.  Really!?  You serious?"

I mean, it got to the point that I felt like I had to tell him that he didn't win the sweepstakes, it was just a candy bar.  Then I realized that there is no way that this kid is old enough to know what the sweepstakes were!  Then I wondered, what in the world was the sweepstakes!?  Now THAT was a random act of kindness.  Anyways, so I told him that it wasn't a new car, it was just a candy bar, but that he was doing good work and to keep it up.  He really didn't seem like he was going to recover.  I pictured the ladies on Extreme Home Makeover that faint when they "move that bus," and then re-faint in each new room.  He woulda been a fainter.

The other two Snickers weren't as exciting.  I was going to give the second one to a mom with a lot of kids.  Mistake #1 in this scenario, never give a single candy bar to someone with many children.  Mistake #2, probably shouldn't give it to someone with a peanut allergy.  Woops, and woops.

So, I chase this lady down in the parking lot, she has a cart full of kids and she is yelling at one of her kids "Well, if you can't hold on to the receipt, then you can't be my receipt holder anymore!"  I know this mom-moment, when you are to the point in your day when you are so frazzled that one more infraction - from your trusted receipt holder, no less - is just enough to push you over the edge into public hysterics.  So, I gave her a Snickers.  She told me about all the children and their peanut allergies... I felt dumb and said "Welp, are you allergic to peanuts because it was for you!  You do all the work right!?"  She did not have an allergy to peanuts, and concurred that she did in fact do all the work.  She took that candy bar with just enough vindication to take a little edge off her impending insanity.

The third Snickers delivery was a little more work.  I was insistent on giving the third one to the grocery cart collector guy.  This is a horrible job because 1) it is freezing for most of the year in this part of New York.  2)  You have to wear a neon yellow vest for absolutely no reason that I can possibly ascertain.  I know that it is a reflector vest, and some will argue that it is for safety... but this is broad daylight and I don't care... I would rather get run over time and again than always have a bulky, neon vest on.  The man deserves some candy.

I drove around 'til I caught him, and as soon as I hopped out and started toward him, he zipped away in a motorized cart.  I got back in the van and chased him down again.  Then I had to go a good bit on foot before I finally gave it to him.  He was unimpressed and shoved the Snickers in his hideous vest and peeled out as fast as the motorized cart would take him.

It was nothing remarkable at all.  It cost me about $2.50, tops.  But, I noticed that I skipped back to my car, and my guess is that the fainter had a pretty good shift after that, too.  Not because it was that big of a deal, but because even a small deal can lift our moods and our hearts... and it is so easy, I really do not understand why I haven't been doing this all along.  People have paid big prices for our comfortable lives in America, and it just seems silly to be anything but randomly, unnecessarily kind and generous.  After being a Christian for most of my life, I hate that I am just now starting to see how simple it is to love another person. I have always thought of myself as someone who would lay my life down for another... but, maybe God doesn't always require us to die for someone else.  Maybe, sometimes, He just wants us to buy them candy.

The Mother of All Care Packages

My mother used to send me the world's stupidest care packages.

Before you feel bad for her, and think badly of me for trash talkin' my mama... let me explain further.  The first one I ever received was when I was away at a college for a sports camp.  All my friends got care packages in the mail, and I was hoping that I would get one too.  When I finally saw mine arrive, I was beyond excited!!

Would it be chips?  Would it be cookies?  Pretzels?  Wait... could it be gummies!?  Oh, yes, please let it be gummies!

Nope.  It was not gummies.  It was a pen that didn't write anymore.  It was the last four sheets of a pad of post-it notes, the kind where the sticky strip isn't sticky, but is kinda brown.  A crumpled receipt and a crushed mint covered with bottom-of-the-purse mung.  There was also about 40 pamphlets from the bank about how to get the most out of your home equity loan.  If I was really lucky she would throw in an old coaster and a fridge magnet (right from our own fridge.)

If you are a normal person, you are thinking:

• A)  "Oh, maybe they were poor.  That sounds like something someone would do if they were really, very poor."
• B)  "I know, her mother must have had a severe mental illness.  The poor thing must think that these inedible pieces of garbage were treats!  How sad!"
• C)  "That sounds like one cruel, sick woman."
• D)  None of the above.

The correct answer is D. none of the above.  (Welllll... and maybe just the tiniest dash of the other three.)  The true story is that nothing made my mother throw her head back in a maniacal fit of laughter like a haphazard and pathetic care package.  If there is any question about the origins of my twisted sense of humor... here you go.  Enter, my mother.  I picture her like a mad scientist, releasing a low Cruella Deville laughter with each new addition to the box.

"Oh, and this half a frisbee will be perfect!  MwAhahAHaHAHAhaHAhahAHa!"  

Since I am using the next 31 days to be kind and focused on others instead of myself... I thought for Day 9, I would send care packages to a couple of totally unsuspecting friends.  I didn't think anyone on this planet (save my sisters) would understand or appreciate a traditional Provencal care package.  So, I opted for actually sending something nice.  Less twisted, less funny, probably way more kind.  

So, two friends who are living away from home, will be receiving a little something in the mail.  They will absolutely never see this coming.  I feel very excited because:

1. Even if they hate the contents of the package... they will still get that feeling of excitement of discovering a package just for them on their front step.  Trust me, that is where the excitement ended for me on care package day, so I know that that is enough. 
2. Even if they hate the contents of the package... they will maybe read this and know that I really did my best given what was modeled for me.  (As long as I am not sending whatever trash is under the back seat of my car, then I have improved upon the family legacy.)
3. Even if they hate the contents of the package... they will know that I tried. :)

While at the post office, I paid for five stamps and asked the postlady to keep them at the register, so that the next five people who came to buy a stamp would get one for free.  I piggybacked on this idea from my friend Sam who left half a roll of bubble wrap at the Post Office for the next fragile-gift-sender, and my mother, who bought an extra movie ticket and left it at the register for the next person who came to buy a single ticket. 

You've come a long way since those care package days, Mom, I love you.  Ya jerk. xoxo

Go On and Kiss the Girl...

You know that really old, crabby guy that lives down the street from you?  Well, he is the lovechild of Mr. Rogers and a Care Bear compared to my old, crabby guy that lives on my street.  I don't care how grouchariffic you think your old man is, mine is grouchier.  Mr. Al is not your run of the mill, neighborhood meddler... those guys are nosey, sure, but Mr. Al actually trespasses, peeps, spies, swears in front of the children and just plain makes stuff up.  

My two best pieces of evidence that Mr. Al is the worst neighbor in history are these:

1. When new neighbors moved in across the street, Mr. Al told them that I had just gotten out of the hospital because I have an eating disorder.  This is categorically untrue.  I had just gotten out of the hospital because I had surgery.  (I had a "floating kidney" which basically means that one of my kidneys totally hit the fan, lost composure and started bobbing around my torso like an apple.  This left my kidney dangling below the protection of it's ribcage home, which is dangerous.  Plus it was really weird to have my kidney on the loose like that.  And painful. So they stapled it to my back muscles. True story.)  So, yes, I had been in the hospital, but it was in no way related to an eating disorder.  Mr. Al thinks I am too skinny.  I think that he and I could probably share pants, so he can stuff it.  But, whatever.
2. When I was suffering from the world's worst pregnancy (think dehydration, home IV's, home nurses blowing all my veins trying to get some electrolytes in me...) Mr. Al would stop anybody who came over to help out with the kids or bring a meal, and he would fish for information and then tell my helpful guest that I should just have an abortion. 

Can I stop there?  Is this enough proof that he is a bit of a challenge to live by??  Now, as a family, we choose to love Mr. Al.  We have offered to bring him to church with us, we allow him to put his garbage in our bin so that he doesn't have to pay the monthly fee to dispose of the 3 ounces of garbage he produces every week.  We honor his bucket (which he keeps in the middle at the end of his driveway year round to discourage people from using his driveway to turn around.)  We have the utmost respect for his bucket.  We talk to Mr. Al, we help him with his computer problems, we unload his discount lawn mower under the most dangerous possible conditions, while he is forcefully directing, we help with his online banking password problems, we let Mr. Al tell us exactly how to vote, we patiently explain the Google, and why we are okay with "the blacks" moving in.

Occasionally I have threatened his life behind his back, but for the majority of the time... we are cordial and polite and pleasant.  Now, I already confessed that I am not really all that pleasant.  So, if I seem pleasant, it might be because I am trying not to maim someone.  In my pleasantness and civility toward Mr. Al, I have not really been loving to him at all.  Sure, we have done nice things... but I can admit that my heart has not always been loving and kind toward him.  So... I decided to bring Mr. Al dinner.  Day 8.

I kinda dread going over there because he is just so pushy.  One time I ended up in his basement, where everything was covered in plastic, and I spent two hours separating all of his Christmas ornaments and wife's old jewelry. I wanted to impale myself right there on the Christmas tree.  'Tis the season.

In hindsight, I may have overcompensated with my kindness today because I did a few things.  Perhaps I knew my heart wasn't really bursting with kindness toward Mr. Al.  So, I sent apples and pears with Tom to give to the newest pastor at our church.  He is doing an awesome job, and his family was totally uprooted and they all just jumped right in, serving and connecting right out of the blocks.  So, they get produce.

Then, I made almond butter to share with some people. 

Then, I served the kids their dinner to start letting it cool.

Then, we got their drinks.

Then...

Then I realized that I simply had to stop stalling and bring Al his dinner.  So, I did.  And he must have seen me coming because when I got to his door he flung it wide and fast and ushered me in so intensely.  He seemed like he had been waiting all day for me to get there with this dinner that I had promised him... even though I definitely gave no warning and in fact considered just leaving it on the doorstep like a humongous jerk.  

When I gave it to him, he grabbed it with a huge smile and put it directly to his face, smelled it, and then kissed me right on the mouth.  YEP.  He was so excited and thankful, and he wanted to make out about it.  Okay, not really that kind of kiss... but he really did give me a big, elderly smooch.  I tried the quick mouth twitch to one side, so he got a little lip corner and a little cheek.  But, he seemed glad about the whole interaction.  

It was the happiest I think I have ever seen him.  The kiss was a little upsetting.  But, I learned a few valuable lessons. I learned that you can act pleasant and civil, but only intentional acts of kindness are really gonna get an old man riled enough to plant one on ya.  You can twitch your mouth faster than the speed of light, and Mr. Al will still get a little lip.  And last, but certainly not least... everyone grouch on the block needs a little kindness.  And maybe a little action from time to time.

                                   

White Chili Soup for the Soul

I have to admit that week one has been hard, but awesome. I love that sense of urgency about something that actually matters. Instead of that inner alarm going off (forcing my head to pop off the pillow in a panic) because I forgot to call someone back, or buy dish soap, or switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer, or a million other things that won't really have any significant impact... It is really nice to feel an urgent sense that I need to serve someone else!

Today was one of those days, a rare day that we had a few lollygaggin' hours with no place to be, so we went to my in-laws for the afternoon. Those kind of hours can pass so quickly, and before I knew it, my kindness alarm went off! Blaring, "I have to do something kind for someone!!!"

We recently heard that neighbors down the street from my in-laws received news that their 14 year old son has cancer. He just started his first round of chemo, and bringing a meal had been on the fam's to-do list.

We brought muffins and white chili and some porch-front prayers. It was emotional and heavy, but I am so thankful that we didn't try to "protect" the kids from that experience. It was good for them to see real life and real pain, and the meeting of real needs.

I want my kids to see that in this life we will surely have heartache, but that everybody else has a story too... something they are struggling with or going through. I want them to view others through a lens of compassion, understanding that every person has a proverbial cheese vat to clean.

In an effort to give my kids the kind of life and family I wanted, I fear that sometimes their life is so charmed (not
with material things, but with security and stability) that they can't really appreciate how rough life is for some.

Don't get me wrong... I am their mother, so they get plenty of crazy in their lives! But they are blessed to have a two parent home where both of us are not only engaged in their lives, but are also relatively awesome. And by relatively, I mean supremely.

I am hoping that this month of kindness will teach them to be compassionate, but also thankful. Seeing a mother weep over her son's battle for life was a great reminder to me why I started this project 7 days ago. I saw my own mother weep for her son's life, and I remember the meals and groceries people brought to meet the most basic needs, so my mom didn't have to think about anything other than surviving.

I am really glad that my kids haven't seen the things I have seen. I am thankful that, so far, they have been spared from great heartache and they get to be on the meal-bringing side of the tragedy.

But someday, they will know that deep pain of tragedy, and they will need help. And hopefully then, London will finally understand why so many years ago, we had to say goodbye to those delicious muffins.

Where's Wanda.

I can't believe that I have only been doing this "31 Acts of Kindness in 31 Days" for 6 days! I am completely aware that I haven't done anything major or life changing... but I still can't believe the amount of effort it takes for someone as selfish as me to try to stay constantly aware of other people's needs.

Today I met a woman who is kind as a profession. I mean she is in the business of showing kindness to people who need it most. Here is how it happened...

The other day, when I was offending the pretzel makers and awkwardly explaining my mission for this month, one lady mentioned that October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. So that has been on my radar for the past couple of days, hence Day Six's project.

I filled a large mason jar with small pieces of paper folded up, each paper holding a simple, but truthful message. I felt like most battered women are likely to have a disconnect somewhere that doesn't allow them to hear and receive truth... that or they don't have anyone who is even trying to get the truth into them.
So, I thought I would try.  I brought my jar-o-truth to a transitional home for battered women and children and asked if the jar could sit out for women to take a truth when they first arrive at the shelter. Wanda looked at me like I was a crazy fool.

Yes, Wanda. She is my new bff. (sorry to any previous bff's... but I like Wanda better.)

 Wanda works at the transitional shelter and she primarily runs the children's activities.  Wanda and I got to talkin' - you know how bffs do - and she asked me why I was doing this 31 days thing. I knew I could trust her (b to the f, 4-eva) so I briefly explained all my baggage and how I wanted to spend this month doing something positive and life-giving, something that would honor my brother's memory and represent the God he and I both love.

Well, can I just tell you that Miss Wanda listened to every single word I said like it really mattered to her. Then she hauled out her own baggage, carefully unpacking her story of how her brother was murdered 14 years ago.  When she said how long it had been since he had passed, she almost seemed embarrassed... Like it shouldn't bother her so much any more. She said "but it really doesn't seem like it has been that long."

I know what she means. But I also know that no matter how much time passes, that person that you loved and lost, and that person's story does not just sit on a shelf with an expiration date. The person, the story, the wound... It can stay so fresh on your heart for a lifetime.

Wanda and I dipped in to our own jar of truth today. We affirmed each other's journey to healing old wounds that still feel fresh some days, no matter how much time passes. We talked about our faith and how we both sneak it into all the corners of our life... even when we are told we aren't allowed.

It's only been six days.  I am exhausted, and  I have a lot of days to go, but I already feel my own disconnect  from the truth starting to reconnect a little. I am not a battered woman in the traditional sense, but life has certainly gotten in a decent jab or two. I can understand how the disconnect happens.  I can see how life and people can knock you down and tell you there is no hope, and maybe even steal your lunch money.  I have believed my fair share of lies, and taken a few too many hits, so I understand the disconnect between what is true, and what you end up believing.  I enjoyed Day Six, because it gave me an opportunity to speak truth to sad and broken women, and it just so happens they were truths that I needed to hear.

Nobody Ever Accused Me of Being Pleasant... except that one time.

For those that have no idea what Day Five means... catch up here: Day One, Day Two, Day Three and Day Four.  For those of you who know and have followed my 31 day journey in doing something life-giving throughout the month of October (instead of hovering just above the emotional poverty line), thank you so much for reading and supporting me.  So many people have come out of the woodwork to offer kind words of encouragement, stories about how my brother's life impacted theirs, and my favorite... some have even joined in and started doing their own acts of kindness!

My original plan for Day Five was to give a kind gift to my friend Abby.  She once asked me to go to a Starbucks and order my coffee and when they ask for my name, say "Primrose Everdeen."  Then, when my coffee is ready and they call out "Primrose Everdeen" I would yell "I volunteer!  I volunteer as tribute!" (*This is a reference to the wildly popular book/movies series, The Hunger Games.  If you do not know what I am referring to, then you should ask the google about pop culture.)

While I reeaaallly wanted to do this, I kinda came to the conclusion that it wouldn't really count because it is more an act of hilarity than an act of kindness.  See I can do hilarious.  Or sarcastic.  I can even do somber.    Maybe November can be Random Acts of Hilarity and Bitterness... but, we are still in October and I am supposed to be kind.  Not hilarious.

So, I decided that since I was meeting my friend Courtney for coffee at Starbucks that I would donate the remaining couple of bucks on my gift card to the most unpleasant customer.  Now, after the cheese vat incident yesterday... I have learned that I do not like to choose who gets the kindness.  In the future, I will either bring enough kindness for everyone, or I will make someone else the judge of worthiness.  Today's judge was the barista.  I gave her my gift card and a note that said "Hope you have a great day!  Pay it forward!" and asked her to apply the remaining amount to the total of somebody who seems like they are having a bad day.

I was only ever accused of being pleasant one time in my life.  I was actually engaged once before Tom and I were together.  (Gasp!  I know right, so much scandal!)  Anyways... I was engaged to a guy with a lovely family and I felt really sure that I should be, and could be, a very lovely gal.  I tried very hard to be lovely and pleasant and a gentle, quiet spirit.  It did not go well.  There was this one occasion, though, that I overheard one of this guy's family members describe me as "pleasant."

What!?  It was one of those moments when I realized... these people have no idea who I am.  I am a LOT of things.  Some good, some bad, some... lovely even.  I can tell you right now though, I am not pleasant.  I'm just not.  The people who know me best, who love me best, would not use the word pleasant to describe me.  It just isn't me.  I have too much heaviness in this heart and I am too honest and too sassy to ever be accused of such a thing..... and honestly I am fine with that.

So, when I envisioned the person who really needed a random act of kindness... I couldn't bring myself to wish it upon somebody who is already pleasant.  I wanted to brighten the day of someone who had some sort of crack in their day, a crack that was big enough for the patience and pleasantness to just sort of seep right out, leaving a frazzled (and maybe even crabby) customer behind.

I am not pleasant.  Maybe when I grow up I will be, but for now, I will settle for real.  So, to the man or woman who was deemed unpleasant enough to receive Day Five's Random Act of Kindness... I salute you.  You are in process, you are struggling, you are in good company!

I can't help but consider my faith in all this.  I can't separate the notion of random, undeserved kindness from the cross.  Jesus himself said that He came not for those who are well, but for the sick.  I am a sick, sick woman, and I am keenly aware of my need for the undeserved kindness of Christ's substitutionary death.  Maybe I am not pleasant, but I know the cracks in my heart that allow the joy and peace and love to seep out, and I know that they are being healed as I go through this month reflecting on what has been given to me.  Perhaps living in light of this gift, and in response to it, will, in time, make me pleasant after all.

May the odds be ever in our favor.

Soft Pretzels are the New Orange Julius

I have a friend who said that the worst job she ever had was cleaning the Orange Julius machines at the mall. Tom and I had a date night planned anyways... so for Day 4, we could head to the mall just before it closes and hit up the Orange Julius.

"You wanna clean the Orange Julius machines!?" My usually supportive husband thought that was going a bit too far. I reassured him that I had no intentions of going elbow deep into any Julius, orange or otherwise. But, I wanted to surprise an Orange Julius worker with a gift card.

We get the gift card and I write a little poem that says:

I have a friend who's worst-ever job was cleaning the Orange Julius machines...
I bet she wished someone had thanked her and said how much her work means...
So here is a little note to say thank you...
So go buy a drink and something to chew.

Horrible right? I don't do poems. And just like I don't do poems, our mall doesn't do Orange Julius.

So, I write this poem about cleaning the Orange Julius machines, but apparently I haven't been to a mall since 1987... So my poetry made no sense to the unsuspecting soft pretzel ladies. But, cleaning the vat of cheese seemed pretty gross, so I though I would randomly act kind toward them.

Problem #1: No Orange Julius.

Problem #2: Horrible poem, no longer applies.

Problem #3: TWO ladies. ONE gift card.

Problem #4: I actually ask who is in charge of cleaning the cheese vat tonight because that (in my mind) was the only way to sensibly determine who needs the kindness more.

Problem #5: When you ask a food service worker who is in charge of cleaning things... They automatically want to shove your face in the cheese vat, because it is way more likely that you are going to yell at the cheese-cleaner about something than to handsomely reward her with gifts.

After explaining it about six different times, they finally realized that I wasn't being critical of the cleanliness, but that I just wanted to thank someone who does a thankless job.  We all do things during the day that nobody notices or appreciates, and it feels good to have somebody acknowledge even the trivial tasks we accomplish.  I am thankful that I believe in a God who sees.  He actually sees us reaching out to a friend, He sees us walk our kids to school, or compromise with a difficult co-worker.  He sees us wipe our kids buns for the 48th time today, and He sees us clean out the vat of cheese.

The best part is that He doesn't just see, He promises that He also cares.  I am certain that I did not communicate any of this to the pretzel ladies...  but, I hope that they felt seen, and I hope they felt appreciated.  If nothing else, He sees that I am trying.  So, being four days in... I count that as a win.

We Put the Random in "Random Act of Kindness"

If you need to, catch up on Day One, or Day Two so that you know exactly what I am attempting to do, and why.  I must say that I have been so encouraged and excited by some of you who have pledged to join in and commit 31 random acts of kindness during the 31 days of October.  I feel blessed by how many people remember Adam's life... not just his death.  

For Day Three, I wanted to do something for the people who work so hard day in and day out to save the lives of children.  I have brought my two youngest kids, Harper and London, to the emergency room for different reasons.  Harper has pretty bad asthma and any germ he comes in contact with seems to turn into pneumonia within minutes.  To the ER we go.  London had to have a series of blood transfusions because she had acute anemia caused by a rare form of bone marrow failure.  Again, to the ER.  I know how fortunate I am to have been spared from the other possible outcomes if modern medicine had not been readily available when my kids needed life-saving medical intervention.  

The doctors and nurses in the ER don't always save lives... but, they always try.  When they can't save a child's life, they have to live with that heaviness.  And when they do save a life, they will likely never get to see that child again... so, the way I see it is that they should probably have assorted pastries on hand.

Our act of kindness today was to take treats to the  Pediatric Emergency Room staff at the hospital where both Harper and London could thank everyone and it would be a beautiful full-circle moment.  I pictured some "yes! I remember you!" and maybe a little hugging, and definitely some high fives all around.  That is not how it all went down.  

Problem #1:  London COULD ABSOLUTELY NOT GET PAST the fact that we had cookies in our vehicle.  She wanted the cookies.  Could she please have all those cookies?  Will the "hostiple" ladies share those cookies?  Will they take blood?  And share those cookies?

Problem #2:  I went to the wrong "hostiple."  All the cookie passion was heating up and I got distracted and pushed the wrong button on the GPS and ended up at an ER that does not have a pediatric wing.  

Problem #3:  I was not smooth about this mix-up.  I knew something felt "off" so I asked the security guard at the ER desk where the pediatric triage was.  He said "We don't have a peds department here.  You are thinking of Strong Memorial."  I say "Oh, well I brought you all a little something."  He calls my bluff, "Welll, you meant to bring them here or to Strong?"  I mean, what does this guy care?  So, I lie "Nope, these ones are for you guys here.  Just for anyone saving lives, really.  Lives of any age."  Oh gracious... I just wanted to  high tail it out there at that point but I couldn't because of...

Problem #4: London was face down on the ground sobbing "I will never have doze treats!"

She was right, she would never have those treats.  And the people that saved my children's lives, they would also never have those treats.  But, whatevs... the acts of kindness are supposed to be random right?  How random to end up at the wrong hospital and give a huge bag of pastries to a security guard who knew I was fibbing about who those treats were for... all with a clinically depressed toddler who went boneless on me as I was trying to get off the premises.

Day #3 was probably mostly a fail.  But, the peeps at Highland Hospital, I hope, would disagree.