On the trail near my house there is a wooden box with books in it. For passing along. No library cards, or fines if it is not returned. Just take what you need. By the pastor's office there is a small food pantry. Anyone is welcome to help themselves to a can of tomato paste, or a jar of smooth peanut butter. People put them in. Others take them out. 

 

There are a medley of groups on social media for sharing. One is called Heavenly Hand Me Downs, and is a platform for offering shoes and pots to our neighbors. Sometimes they are free, other times there is a modest cost. It is charming to notice when the interested party lives quite close. Next door, even. It is a form of generosity, and a way to keep things out of the landfill. There are also posts by people seeking a specific item. I did this myself when I wanted a pool noodle for wet felting. The other day a  teacher asked for donations of children's books. 

 

I recently joined another group called Buy Nothing. This is a marvelous way to gift strangers with the scented candles and plastic tubs I no longer use. It gives me a chance to offer the half full shampoo bottles that the local thrift store is not interested in. My daughter moved to Alaska, and it is my task to rehome the contents of her apartment. Perhaps you would like some tea?

 

I enjoy the absence of any judgment around what people exchange. Well, one of the selling groups denied my offer of knives. They have a policy against weapons. The stethoscopes too, were banned. Maybe I can give them to a nurse I know. But for the most part people can express a desire for bookshelves, or a yoga mat without being cross examined. 

 

"Why precisely do you want couch pillows?"

 

There are times when people I love want affirmation. Or comfort. Or a slice of my time. It can be a healthy step for a cranky child to be able to articulate the reason.

 

"I'm lonely."

 

"I feel left out."

 

"My head hurts."

 

Yet in my experience those details were not always forthcoming. Often the child didn't understand the root of their feelings either. 

 

It can be healing to at least have the request acknowledged, even when it cannot be fulfilled. 

 

"I hear that you want to stay at the park longer. That would be fun! But it's time to have supper and baths. I'm sorry."

 

Grown ups too feel the invisible tug of lack. My husband knows many thing, like why water bubbles up above the rim of the glass, and which noises in the car are perilous and which can be ignored. But some days he is not privy to the origins of his own disgruntlement.

 

I wonder how things might smooth out if I had less resistance to offering them. Or at least believing they have value. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love, 

 

Lori