A snack with a side of virtual hugs

Some afternoons I can hear them through my front door; a delivery driver, talking to himself while going through the snack box that I leave out, trying to decide which to choose. It has become one of my favorite sounds. 

I struggle these days with all that is going on in our country and in the world. We hear so much about cruelty, division, seeds of hatred being sown, people being pitted against each other.

I also see and feel the resistance to all this and am grateful to see, feel it, and be part of it where and when I can.

 I look to what I can do in my everyday life to help sustain me and possibly offer a bit of kindness and hope to those around me. I am committed to being rebelliously kind. That does not mean that I don’t set boundaries and am not angry when it is called for. Kindness has mistakenly been associated with weakness for too long. It is the opposite, I think. Kindness takes courage in the face of all that is going on, kindness with limits and boundaries. 

Aging has taught me the lesson of the importance of boundaries, that kindness can still be ferocious, that I can have a kind heart and a warrior soul, spirit, and stance when needed. My youth wanted to simplify and easily categorize things; my elderhood now appreciates the complexity of life and how we are able to hold different, sometimes opposite, stances simultaneously. Life is not simple, but oh so rich. 

One of my small pleasures that I started last holiday season was to leave a box of goodies at my front door for the delivery drivers. It brought me such joy to do this that I decided to continue it all year long. Some drivers take several, which I delight in. Some, being used to cameras, yell out thank you before they leave. Sometimes when I step outside to pick up a package left, I run into the drivers as they are leaving (they turn their vehicles around at the top of the street where I live) and they smile, wave, thank me, and we connect for a brief moment. I think I get more pleasure from this than they do. 

Recently, I had one driver ring my doorbell. She thanked me for the treats and asked if I needed help bringing in a heavier package. Another driver left me a note thanking me for the snacks. Another told me how much he loved chips and happily took some on his way when I encouraged him. Some take a moment to sit in their truck, open the treat and enjoy it as they take a small break. 

My neighbors tease me about this, especially when they see me quickly replacing any snacks taken. I really do find such joy in these moments. When I come home and see the box having been rummaged through as they have searched for their favorites, I cannot help but smile. These drivers work hard, are under pressure to deliver as much and as quickly as possible. I want them to stop and take a breath. I want to stop and give them a little message of seeing them, appreciating them, acknowledging them on their busy day.

I even had an unintended guest visit the snack box. My neighbor across the street had been watching a scene playing out at my front door. Apparently, a neighborhood dog, Rosie, had discovered the box and that day decided to help herself and took one of the snacks to enjoy. You never know who might appreciate something that you do!

I think that a moment can change someone’s day. I know that a random smile from a stranger as I go about my errands can lift my spirits. A hello with eye contact can help me feel a bit less alone. A kind word can bring me out of whatever I may have been ruminating about back to the present moment and back to whoever may be in front of me, sharing that moment in space and time. 

I need these moments of connection with others, these random moments of humanity reaching out to itself, encouraging the best of who we can be. I like to think that maybe I can make a difference, however tiny, in someone’s day, that I can help them slow down for a second before continuing on their way. 

So, the box will remain by my front door. It’s only a handful of snacks. But in a time of so much cruelty and division, it is my small stubborn act of resistance…snacks with a side of virtual hugs.