One of the best things in the whole world, for me anyway, is giving to those who have nothing, no way to repay a kindness. Sometimes this takes the form of buying breakfast for an unhoused person, sometimes it’s five bucks to get someone home on the train.
When I’m feeling down, I seek out someone who needs something I can provide. But it is important to me that I don’t just hand them a cup of coffee. That isn’t where the kindness lives. It lives in listening to their stories, in letting them talk if they want to. It’s in sitting on a curb sipping coffee with them.
Yesterday, my mother and I spent the day putting together care packages for the homeless. We got a hygiene kit together (toothbrush/paste, wet wipes, hand sanitizer, lip balm, etc), added a hat and gloves, a pair of socks, then we packed some food in. A mandarin orange, peanut butter sandwich, some crackers, cookies, trail mix, and some holiday cheer in the form of candy.
We ended up with twenty care packages that are currently in my car. On my way home, I stopped twice to hand out bags to two gentlemen I see fairly regularly. One of them wanted to give me something in return. He was sweet, and told me a long, rambling story of how he got the piece he was giving to me, and how special it is. Doesn’t matter that it’s just a bit of plastic that broke off of some decorative thing. It was about him feeling like he had something to give me in return.
Today, Mom and I are taking the packages to an encampment of homeless folks, along with some blankets. It is starting to be cold here, especially at night, and while we don’t get snow and all that, the cold can still be deadly.
Kindness matters. Spread some around.
Photo by Adam Nemeroff on Unsplash