That, and a Cup of Coffee Will Get You...

Sitting here a joyful little mess this afternoon, as upon my return from the day’s out-and-abouting, I came home to a note under my door that has equal parts blessed me and broken my heart…

This isn’t normally something I would share, because some of the things I do for others, I feel compelled to ‘do in secret,’ as the scriptures exhort.  I keep my mouth shut about stuff like that for the spiritual guidance, for the privacy of others, and sometimes for the protection of not having to listen to criticisms for the things I do. 

Let me start this story at its genesis on December 23^rd…

That day, as I was moseying over to Dutch Bros for my morning tea and Dutch Baby love, I began to feel this move to *do something* for the kids that work at the Eureka Way coffee stand.  My sentimentality toward the location actually started in February of 2013, the day that my son, Jesse, told me that he had asked his then-girlfriend, Amanda, to marry him.  At the point where Amanda and I wound up in the car alone that day, I took her to the Eureka Way Dutch Bros for a celebratory drink.  At that juncture in life, I was still pretty much a fan of that Seattle-based coffee place, but felt it the right thing to take the one-day-mother-of-my-smart-and-beautiful-ginger-babies to HER place. 

Since that day, I have been a fan of the tea there, and the location has stuck as well.  When I got divorced the following year and moved myself and my business to my current downtown location, I became a daily regular-- sometimes in the mornings, to get my day started, sometimes in the evenings after massage class, or after a long evening of working on clients.  This past year—a year emphatically punctuated by horrific loss and grief for me—there were days when a smile, a hug, or some other measure of kindness from one barista or another, was the thing that got me through the day, or one more client, or one more afternoon trying to make sense of a lot of senselessness in life. 

It was these things, and a general love for a bunch of 20-somethings who serve up coffee and tea like they are on a mission from God—consistently, like it’s THE most important thing in that moment-- that made me want to do something for them as a token of my gratitude, and well, my love for them.  So, while I was waiting for my tea that morning, I asked one of the Dutch Babies to make me a list of everyone who worked there.  Twenty-three names in hand, I pondered that day what to do for each of them that would just let them know that I appreciate them. 

After much contemplation, I finally settled on getting each of them a gift card to the movies.  The gal at the theater got a pretty confused look on her face when I asked for twenty-four gift cards.  It was a chunk of change that left my wallet quite a bit lighter.  But considering everything that’s happened since, I’d have spent ten times as much and considered it an incredible investment.

The next thing I did was sit down with all the gift cards, and put each one in an envelope with a personal note—as personal as I was able to make it, based on how well I knew the recipient.  A few of them were more or less just, “Thanks for the awesome tea!” but some of them contained inside jokes, references to ways each had personally touched me over the year, or things I sincerely value in them. 

It took me almost two hours to work through the entire list.  When I was finished, I felt like Christmas was “finished” for me.  I’m not much of a shopper, and aside from this little project, I can count on one hand the number of gifts I purchased this year.  I generally try to just spend time or engage in a loving act of service for people I care about, rather than prop up the retail economy for the holiday. 

I dropped the cards off the next day, on Christmas Eve, when I got my daily dose of Dutch, and then went on my way. 

What has happened since has blessed me and humbled me immensely.  In the past four weeks since Christmas, I’ve received kind and heartfelt thank-yous from most everyone, along with stories of the movie they went and saw, who they spent time with as a result, and/or a general recounting of how nice it was to go to the movies, since to kids that age, newly on their own, movies are sometimes out of reach financially.

I’ve had the most incredible conversations about the notes. 

I had written to one girl, “I am in awe of how smart you are…”  Her response to that was to hug me and thank me, tell me that she has grown up her whole life in the shadow of the family billboard that her sister was The Smart One, and that I am the first person she can recall ever noticing that she is a Smart One, too.

I had written to one guy that I appreciated his tea deliveries, and that I am so thankful for the occasional chore he offers to do for me, because my own kids are variously MIA.  The next time I saw him after the holiday, he hugged me and told me that his mom passed away when he was in junior high school, and that he secretly “pretends” I’m his mom. 

I hugged him and told him he doesn’t have to pretend any more.

And these stories go on and on in such a vein.  Today, the note under my door was from a Dutch Baby I just met in person this morning.  At the drive-thru, when one of his co-workers introduced me, he said, “Are you the Movie Card Lady?”  I nodded yes, he politely said thanks with a winning smile, and we each went on about our day. 

The card, as I now understand it, made its way to my door with help from a co-worker, and read, “I started work at Dutch the week you gave me the movie card.  On more than one level, that card WAS CHRISTMAS for me.”

I don’t even know what exactly that means, but all that matters is that it meant something to him.

I am as guilty as anyone for taking people I care about for granted, for not speaking positive truths to them, or about them.  I am purposing this year to do a better job of that—family, friends, random people… and I’m sharing this, I guess, so you can, too. 

Sometimes, more than we might think, without realizing the consequence, kind words empower, they heal, they change lives in unimaginable ways. 

Playing Social Hookey Today

At the moment, I am sitting in Starbucks, bottom resting comfortably in a chair, taking advantage of that post-workout boost of creativity that seems to come from putting my body in motion.

In twenty minutes, there is a town hall meeting across town to unveil the Public Safety Blueprint.  I won't be there.  Because honestly, the costume change required almost doesn't seem worth it with everything else I have going on today.  Also, I'm pretty much losing my normal optimism for what we can collectively get accomplished in Redding.

Let me start by saying some positive things:

It's GREAT that city council members Brent Weaver and Kristen Schroeder heralded the charge, and that the Redding City Council moved the concept of a blueprint forward.  Without a vision, little can be accomplished.

It is important that dialogue continue among community members, leaders, agencies, and others.  We can't continue operating in silos and expect positive, realistic outcomes.

These things being said, I've lost patience, and I've lost hope.  Here's a slice of why:

In a nutshell, we continue to throw money at the wrong pieces, the wrong planks, of the problem-- even at the community, philanthropic levels, the place where the grassroots girl inside me thinks the best stuff gets accomplished.  Remember a few months ago, when there was a big push in the community to collect blankets for the homeless? In the past few weeks, I have picked up more than a dozen filthy, wet, damaged, unkempt, covered-in-God-only-knows-what blankets in the twelve-block area that is my 'hood.  I have heard other friends complain of same in other parts of town.

While I know that some of the blankets are actually assisting people who need them, it seems a significant portion have become another part and parcel of the symptoms of the mental health problem that is a foundation of what ails our town.

Another similar aggravation of mine is the folks that are digging around in dumpsters and trash cans, seeking whatever treasures they may find.  Yesterday, I helped put trash back into a large dumpster behind Sherven Square (the building next to mine).  Someone(s) had taken out all of the trash from a nearly-full dumpster, took what they wanted, and left the rest of the trash scattered about the ground.

Later in the day, on a quick walkabout between clients, I found an abandoned shopping cart with, among other things, a cardboard box addressed to one of the businesses in the Sherven Square building.  The cart was nearly full with an odd assortment of stuff-- boxes, plastic bags, recycling, two wet and broken-down blankets, and what appeared to be possibly stolen items, including electronics, make-up, and food items.

I reported all this to the proper authorities.  Not that anything can be done, but at least it's statistical data as to the problem.

My car has been broken into a total of ten times now since December 26th of 2013.  My suite has been broken into, and even though I had $600 in cash taken, it doesn't amount to a 'crime' under the guidelines of Prop 47.  It wasn't until added to the theft of rent checks (and actually, the entire drop box) from my building a week later, that the potential to capture the suspect was a reality.

I receive an online alert from businesses in town who share information about thefts and other crimes to businesses.  Multiple times a week, the folks at the Ace Hardware Express on Eureka Way are reporting thefts or vandalism in their store.

What I keep hearing at these community meetings is that there aren't enough law enforcement resources out on the street.  But even if there were enough cops or community service officers, there's not enough space in the jail to put 'real' offenders, and thanks to Prop 47, many of the property thefts, damages, etc., are no longer crimes the courts will consider.

It reminds me of that song we all sang as kids, "'Round and 'round the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel..."

If we aren't going to address the mental health problems in a legitimate way, i.e., more court-ordered, community-based drug rehabs, in-patient facilities, and other programs; and we aren't even going to prosecute crimes in the community, it really doesn't matter how many Adopt-a-Block programs there are, or how many blueprints we construct, or how many "homeless" initiatives we develop.

The problems will continue to persist.

So, I made no effort to go to the meeting.  I know my friends will update me.  I've eloquently stated in public meetings what I feel the problems are, and what could and should be done.  Instead, I wrote (this blog, and another hilarious piece I'll be sending along to an editor by the end of the week), and now, I'm going to go to the market and pick up the items I've pledged for supper this evening with My Guy, My Bestie, and Her Guy.

And to be honest, an evening with friends is really part of the answer to the problem.  Stick together.  Socialize.  Live life in a way that trumps the negative things in town.