It was a two hour trip to DC. I was just praying we would narrowly miss the Friday commuter traffic. It was a cousin weekend and the kids could barely contain their excitement because we all know, there is nothing better on the planet than cousins. They are like siblings but with out all the drama and everydayness. Not to mention the meet up and drop off point was IKEA, this meant meatballs and gravy while watching School House Rock and sitting on a bright green ergonomically correct chairs.

We rolled up to the family parking and started to pile out of the car. Jack hopped out with no jacket on and hands dug deep in his pockets, it was about 38 degrees.

“Jack! Where is your jacket buddy?” I asked. There was already that tone in my voice.

“I don’t know, I thought I brought it!” he responded acting shocked.

I don’t really know exactly what happened after that moment but a rant of sorts started. It wasn’t really yelling, it was the kind where I  made him feel  like total crap for this forgetfulness. I knew it was not just about this moment. It was the four jackets lost before, the four Columbia jackets I had so proudly found at the thrift store, the 57,000 reminders to put on a jacket, to pick a jacket up, the pleading to hang it on the perfectly designed mud room/station hook to make it easy, it was the whole entire spring when this child was three and jumped in every puddle known to man, it was old…and A LOT.

As it was happening, it was almost as if I was out of my body looking down on myself.  I knew it was wrong, I could feel it…but I just could. not. stop. This may have only been about 4 minutes of ranting but it felt like 100 minutes or maybe a 1,000 to Jack. I muttered something about everyone getting back in the car and we were going to buy a new jacket.

And then she spoke. That Lucy girl.

“Mom, I am gonna tell you something right now.” Her voice calm but firm.

“Mom, we are a family of love, and you are being too harsh on Jackie-boy right now, and it hurts his feelings mom, it is just a jacket mom, just a jacket. …and jackets don’t matter mom, love matters and I just gotta tell you that.”

And I turned around and looked at Jack, his eyes watering, having just been rescued and righted by someone so small yet so wise, and said,

“You are right Luce. You are right. I am sorry Jackie-boy.”  *big sigh* “Oh dear.” and that was all there was to say.

And I felt like a total jerk and so proud at the same time…because on some level there was space with these dear souls for rants, love and truth telling.

We bought a new jacket and I held it as he slid his arms in.

“Maybe you guys are so good, all that is left to complain about is stupid jackets.” I said while I hugged him so tight. He hugged back even tighter.

And two days later, he opened the car door at the car pool line and said, “Oh mom, I know it is some where…” his brow furrowed and eyes wide. I sighed and half smiled, because there is this sort of surrender and calm that comes after the freak out has finally been released.

and because…

We are a family of love, and lost jackets.

What do you think the most thankless job in America is? I had my own idea but decided to take an informal poll among friends, family, and of course Facebook. It turns out, garbage collectors won by a landslide. I can’t say I was surprised. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, we create an additional one million tons of waste, which is a whopping 25% more that our collectors have to pick up and haul away.

These are people that are part of our lives, in our backyards or front sidewalk, taking away all our decay, the stuff we don’t want or no longer serves us. Yet even though these guys are in my living space every week, I really had no idea what they might look like or what their names were. I started to wonder so I woke up early one Friday morning and waited for them to roll down my alley.

I must have looked like a total loon waving my hands and carrying my camera but they stopped the truck and hopped out at my back gate. I introduced myself while Vejay, Lionel and Joe pulled off work gloves to shake my hand. We chatted for a moment and I told them I was interested in doing a kindness project for garbage collectors. I asked them what kind of kindness they thought was needed.

Joe leaned against the garbage can and said, “You know, we just need a little respect.”

“Yep, pretty sure everyone needs and deserves that, huh?” I replied.

“Yes, they do. Yes they do.” Joe said.

The kindness mission was sparked. What could be a more lovely and simple message of respect than saying, “I see you, I value your contribution to my community and I thank you.”?

Sometimes it is the smallest act of kindness that makes the greatest impact on a person. Meeting a basic human need may be all it takes to make a change. All I could imagine was Joe lifting can after can with notes of gratitude attached, throughout an entire neighborhood, maybe even a whole city.

So I asked the kids in my daughter’s kindergarten class if they would like to join me in writing thank you notes since they had just been learning about community helpers. The kids were stoked to take the mission on and the kindness started moving. Word traveled and seven more schools wanted in.

awesome thank you note from the kids at Patrick Henry School of Science and Arts

Here is the kindness mission, if you would like to join us:

1. Write a note of thanks to your garbage collector sometime from now until February 3rd.

2. You may want to include a gift card for coffee from your local coffee shop or gas station.

3. Attach it to your garbage can on pick up day for your collector to find.

4. Take a picture and send it to patience@kindnessgirl.com or upload it to our Guerrilla Goodness Flickr pool.

5. Tell us in the comments what city you are from so we can see how far our garbage gratitude is traveling. If you invited your school to join us, let us know the school too. Some schools are including their custodians in on the thank you note kindness too!

6. Hit the Facebook or Twitter button below to share or like…we all know Facebook and Twitter rule the world!

Can you imagine if there was a wave of gratitude across an entire nation? Garbage collectors may get kicked off the top of that most thankless job list. I imagine Joe would be just fine with that.

I am kind of in love with strangers, the conservative business man in the three piece suit on the metro, the old lady who cuts my fabric at the craft store, the traveling hipster kid dressed in skinny black jeans with the straggly dog.

On any given day, I have at least three memorable stranger experiences. I am not sure why or how, it may just be in my genes. My childhood was filled with memories of my mother having heavy, deep and real conversations in three minutes flat with the checkout girl and toll guy.

 
Maybe it is the allure that we are connected for just a moment with no past or future to hold, or realizing that there may be less danger in “stranger danger” after all. The simple idea of breaking social boundaries to reach out or offer something to people we don’t know often reveals all kinds of things about humanity we never imagined…

you can read the rest here.

in 2012…

may there be…

more living room dance parties

more couch diving

more hiking

more sunshine in general

more pie

more produce picking

more art (lots more)

more learning

more dog piling

more quiet moments being held

more kindness

feel free to ask the universe for more and add your list in the comments…because more is more.

I have never been so clear as to what a year should hold. I start every one with a, “I think 2011 will be even better than 2010…” and some years this was true and others, well, not so much. I never exactly have any idea how they will be better, I guess I just hope they will, that I will not repeat mistakes, or that I may be another year older, or that I have some new hope, idea, or plan brewing…

but this year, I know I am walking straight into a learning year. Not the the intuitive, slow, safe kind that I really love and live by but the down and dirty, LOTS of work, putting it out there, taking risks, pushing past kind of work. In some ways I get this sort of invigorating and dread feeling all at once…it’s probably exactly where I should be. In the middle.

…and the beautiful part is, I don’t think I’ve ever been this brave to take it on before, and yet I am still scared shitless- I am fully aware the suck part is coming too and well, there is no other way to go- except through, suck and all…but here I go.

Chances are, I will discover kindness, in a new place I haven’t been, hiding in a crevice somewhere, or keeping me afloat.

Care to join me?

What learning would you do if you could find the courage? or I wonder if the courage is already there, waiting for you.

I watch this, almost every other day to keep me going…oh, how I adore Ira.

Merry Christmas to you all…hoping a kind light finds you and those you love this night.

I am so very grateful for your care, joy and love for me and my family this year, your kindness changes everything…may it be returned ten fold.

love,

patience

I love to sing…I have just an okay singing voice but I don’t even care. When I was a little girl, I sang for hours with my my grandfather, mostly from old hymnals. I have spent days, maybe even years singing the Sound of Music, pretending to be Julie Andrews. If you invite me to a sing-a-long, I will just melt.

When I hear other ordinary voices of those who love to sing like me, I feel this sort of kinship…like we must be soul siblings. I felt this with my best friend, Jennifer Lemons, (a.k.a. The Checkout Girl) from the moment we met, even before our many shared obsessions were discovered.

And then she played the ukulele at her show…the everyman instrument…and all I could think about was what that did to my soul, the strumming, hearing her voice. I thought the whole thing was magic. I thought about it every day for a week.

at the end of the week, I got a text from Jen- I think we should go caroling, with the ukulele.

And that was it- it was all I have wanted to do, all Christmas season long.

Because Christmas is so hard for so many, (jen and I included)… it’s hard because everything, your whole life gets compared to something during this time, our memories are on the big screen, or you are stressed figuring out how it will all get done, or because you want to be close to someone, or hold tight to something during this time, you miss your family, or the idea of family, or your family is broken, because all the holes feel bigger, because you wish you had something to give the people you love, or you are aware just how broke you are, or you feel sort of desperate, or you are just trying to keep it all together, or trying to awkwardly love people by not being all of yourself, doing the family dysfunction dance, or are sort of lost or holding loss… and we do our damnedest to shake it…and I wish this wasn’t all true or I was just being dramatic, but I am not.

And we find our way through this season, we do. We see all the beauty we have, we try not to think about our pain and hardships, we give, find a way out of ourselves…we press on. But there is something real and true in simple things, and simple invitations of love, of old songs being sung to you.

So here is our offering of holiday love to you, especially to those who need some soul care right about now:  Jen and I, along with our ordinary voices and her magical ukulele would love to come to you, on your doorstep and sing to you.

(or maybe there is nothing heavy at all and you just love a good round of jingle bells- we’ll take that too!)

We will carol to the  first 8 friends from Richmond, Virginia that e-mail me at patience@kindnessgirl.com at an undisclosed time in the next 24 hours. I will let you know when our quota is filled! Don’t worry if you don’t live in RVA, there will be something for you too in the next few days!

Much love to you from Jen and I…all of you!

“No matter what the world, cruel world does to you, never lose your faith. If you don’t know what you believe for your self you’ll be what every one wants you to be. God bless you. “-JS

given to me by a very, very kind drunk boy (stranger kindness) in a bar years ago…