The joy of making a difference

Hello, friends. I know not everyone celebrates Thanksgiving—not even everyone in the US.

In truth, the more I educate myself on the colonial history of North America, the less I enjoy the holiday. But I do like gratitude, which I am working to decouple from the third Thursday in November. It’s a work in progress.

Before I get into this week’s story, I wanted to mention my Thanksgiving tradition of writing—not a gratitude list, but a gratitude letter, to someone you want to thank and tell how much they mean to you. I started this with the elders in my life a few years back, and I am tremendously grateful that I have, because some of those people are no longer with us.

It was a gift to them, but also to me, to have said thank you in the way I wanted to while I could. But gratitude letters can go to anyone, regardless of age. We all have people who have made—or continue to make—an important difference in our lives. It’s a real joy to tell them so.

I haven’t done my letter yet this year—it’s a doozy and I have been putting it off—but that is on the docket for me this evening. I know I will be so glad to have done it.

And, another reminder from last year: you can opt out of the holidays, if you want. Or opt out of parts of it.

This, of course, is easier if you don’t have children or other family who have come to expect holidays to look a certain way, but even then. The pandemic led me to rethink the holidays and change them in a way that works better for me. So, if that sounds good to you too, here’s a little support in that department.

I hope you are all doing well.

The Joy of Making a Difference

It started with grape leaves.

When a woman in my Buy Nothing Group put up a post asking if anyone had grape vines she could harvest I almost didn’t respond—my garden is very untended these days and I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone else to see it. But I do have a grape vine that hasn’t been pruned back in two years and needed all the trimming it could get. So, I sent her a note and said so.

This is how I ended up in my backyard with two women and a bunch of ladders and pruning equipment. They run a little food pantry, they explained, and one of the families they help had asked if there was any way they could get grape leaves. This family are refugees from a part of the world where grape leaves are common ingredients used in cooking; they had been having a hard time finding them here.

I’ve lived in other countries, I know how much it can mean to cook something that tastes like home. I know how hard can be to do this successfully. I cannot imagine what it must be like to do it in the context of having been forced to leave your home, of the not knowing if you will ever be among your people again, to speak your language and see your family, and live your culture and to taste your food the way it is meant to be tasted.

That afternoon we filled the back of their car with vines, and they took about sixty pounds of grapes as well, to pass on to the families they feed.

When I got a text from them the next week, asking if I wanted to help pack the food boxes, I said yes. And, apart from one day, I’ve been back every week since.

I tell this story not to make myself look good—I am but a tiny cog in a much larger machine that runs on the energy and good hearts of the organizers—but because I am truly surprised how much I love going, how much I love helping, how I plan to go for two hours but end up staying for four. I’ve tried to break it down and figure out why and this is what I’ve come up with.

• Helping feels good. It just does. But in a time when there is much that is scary and potentially dangerous and out of my control, helping feels GREAT. To make a tiny but meaningful difference in the world right now feels stupendous.

• Community is important. I like seeing people each week and doing something collaborative. Almost every week I’ve met someone new and interesting, and enjoyed getting to know my fellow volunteers and the families better. Dare I say it’s fun? It is.

• It aligns with my values. One of the things I hate is food waste and we get a lot of food that is about to expire or rot, so making sure that it finds a home and bellies that need filling is super rewarding.

I’ve even become the go-to person for the “gross” jobs—sorting through all the cartons of berries to take out the rotten ones and save what is salvageable. (The biggest waste has to do with out of season fruit, which I wish we could just stop buying all together). It may be gross, but it’s rewarding to keep it out of the waste stream.

• Another value-related point: I have been given kindness and warm welcomes in the countries I’ve lived or traveled in, and it pains me that this is not always the case here. While not all our families are refugees or immigrants, some are. Making their lives here a tiny bit easier feels important.

• I don’t have children, but I cannot imagine the agony it must be to worry about whether or not you have enough food to feed them. Circumstances can change, my city is insanely expensive now and wages have not kept up for most people, the stress on families must be tremendous. Any tiny thing I can do to help feels like the right thing to do, and a very good use of my time. Perhaps the best use.

I know we are going into a very busy end-of-year season, but a new year looms, and a new government here in the US. I suspect things that are hard are going to get even harder for many (the need at food banks has gone up tremendously since the pandemic).

If I can plant any tiny seed it would be to consider finding a way to help in your community on an ongoing basis—whatever that looks like. The people I look to for advice are all saying that mutual aid is going to be what gets through this next phase. I’m very grateful to have stumbled into a way to help.

And it really is rewarding. Every week I am surprised how much. And I’m reminded that this is how volunteering usually is—those who step up to help often take away just as much, if not more.

I hope you have a good week.

Something else to enjoy: my books!