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Renee Dubeau

Creative Nonfiction & Inspirational Shit

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acts of kindness

Kindness Kits 101: How to spread love around your city and beyond.

When we see a problem too big to fix, we often throw our hands in the air and say, “Somebody should do something about this!”

Maybe, we do this because we want our government, world leaders, big corporations or other “powers that be” to take care of it. Maybe, we feel like we’re too small to make a difference, or don’t have a solution for the whole problem. Or, maybe, we’ve forgotten that we are somebody.

We don’t have to be wealthy, or hold a position of authority, or have a large platform of influence to make a difference. Maybe we can’t change the whole world all at once. But, small acts of kindness can change the world for a one person- and the ripple effect of that positive change can start an avalanche of other good things we may never even realize were due in part to our willingness to do something, anything to make things even just a little bit better for someone.

I started making Kindness Kits a few winters ago, when we had record cold temperatures. It absolutely broke my heart to think about all the people right here in Nashville who didn’t have a warm bed to go home to at night. People were literally freezing to death in the streets. Our streets. My streets.

I felt totally helpless. There were so many of them, and just one of me. There are resources here, sure. But, they are limited. I spent some time thinking about what I could do to help. I went to the store and gathered all the handwarmers I could find. The idea grew from there, and I started assembling bags of toiletries, hand warmers, gloves, and snacks. The icing on the cake was adding a little love note, because some warm fuzzies on the inside certainly couldn’t hurt. I wrote “You Are Important” on an index card with a little heart. The rest, as they say, is history.

Since then I’ve delivered hundreds of bags of goodies to people all over Nashville and beyond. I’ve had lots of help from my kids, friends- even my bridesmaids came over to make Kindness Kits with me! At the end of the night, we split them up, and everyone takes a supply to keep in their cars. It’s a fun, easy, inexpensive way for us to do something helpful. It’s a small thing, but the reactions from people who receive them range from smiles to tears- and that feels like a big thing.

If you’d like to join me in spreading some love, here’s how to get started:

Step 1: Gather Supplies

KK2

Each bag will require a quart sized zipper bag, a 3×5 index card, and an assortment of personal care items, seasonal supplies, and snacks. Be as creative as you want with your bags- they are your gifts to offer to people who might need them.

Suggested supply list: (Think travel sized items and individually wrapped stuff.)

  • quart sized zipper bags
  • 3×5 index cards
  • markers, pens, stickers
  • hand sanitizer
  • hand warmers
  • facial tissue
  • deodorant
  • flashlight/batteries
  • first aid kits/supplies
  • crackers
  • trail mix
  • granola/protein bars
  • baby wipes
  • travel toothbrushes/toothpaste
  • note pads
  • sunscreen
  • puzzle books
  • lip balm
  • bug spray
  • pens/pencils
  • hand/body lotion
  • comb/hair brush
  • candy/gum/mints
  • feminine hygiene items
  • fast food gift cards
  • cash

Step 2: Write Love Notes

KK1Use your markers, pens, stickers and anything else you’d like to write an empowering message on your index cards. My go-to message is, “You Are Important”. I write it in big, bold letters so it’s the first thing the recipient sees when I hand the bag to them. Grown men have shed real tears on the side of the road when given these words- they are very powerful. Sometimes when making bags with friends, everyone will choose their own word to complete the sentence “You are _____________.” Some good ones are: worthy, loved, beautiful, strong, brave, resilient… anything that speaks to you will work just fine.

Step 3: Assemble Kindness Kits
Fill your zipper bags with an assortment of personal care items, snacks, treats and the messages you wrote. I like to use items that are practical for the season, like sunscreen in the summer/hand warmers in the winter, for example. Include anything you feel might be useful and appreciated.

Step 4: Spread Some Love!
Keep Kindness Kits in your car so you’re always ready to deliver them. Don’t look away from those in need. Acknowledge their humanity- look them in the eye, engage in conversation, use your words to inspire hope and extend genuine compassion- this is more valuable than anything else you could give someone. Truly, this is what people crave even more than a warm meal or shower. Human connection is vital to our health and happiness. Just a few minutes of connection can make a huge difference for someone who might otherwise feel isolated and alone.

Step 5: Pass it on!
Why not give your tribe an opportunity to spread the love, too? Have a Kindness Party! Invite your friends and family to make kits together. Play some music, make some snacks, and ask everyone to bring items to contribute. Write your love notes together, make your Kindness Kits, divide them up, and keep spreading love around your city and beyond.

Love is a very powerful vibration. When we put it out into the world, it amplifies, multiplies and inspires. Anything we can do to put more love into the world is a step in the right direction. Making kindness kits is a fun, easy way to spread a little love to people who need it most. It’s also a way to get people engaged and inspired to help those in need.

Please, share your photos and stories with me when you host your next Kindness Party! You can connect with me on Facebook  or Instagram to show me how you share the love. I can’t wait to see what we can do, together.

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Where did “You Are Important” come from?

I live in an affluent little bubble in the suburbs of Nashville, Tennessee. The poverty and hunger here are well hidden, tucked away behind strip malls and subdivisions with cul-de-sacs and swimming pools. But, if you pay attention, you’ll see it. Panhandling is forbidden in suburbia, so you have to look beyond street corners and exit ramps to find our homeless and hungry. Or, sometimes, you don’t have to go looking. Sometimes, they jump right out at you. That’s what happened to me.

I was working for a large health care company as a claims adjuster. I was a single mom with two teenagers at home, and often started my work day before the sun came up. There was a Starbucks on my way to work, where I stopped frequently before my six o’clock shift started. I thought nothing of the five dollar coconut milk latte I enjoyed several days week— a necessary luxury to begin my long day of staring at spreadsheets and medical claims. That’s where I saw him.

I was sitting in the drive-through waiting to order my much needed cup of motivation when I noticed one lonely car in the strip mall parking lot. All of the stores were closed, and would be for hours. Maybe that’s why it looked so strange there, all alone, in the well-lit space between the Starbucks and the Bed Bath and Beyond. It wasn’t the typical car you see in that particular part of town. It was older, and showed more wear.

As I examined the little, red car in the early-morning-empty-lot, I found that the driver of the vehicle was reclined in the front seat, asleep. It was strange. Not something you see every day. But, certainly, he had chosen a safe place to rest. I assumed he was a traveler who had pulled off the nearby interstate for a nap. That is, until the next time I saw him there in the same spot, sleeping in the rain a few days later.

On the third occasion I saw this stranger sleeping in his little red car, he had the driver’s side door propped open, his bare foot extended out onto the ground below him. That was the morning I made an agreement with myself: If I was going to take my privileged ass through that drive through for another latte, I had to bring him breakfast.

I had an appointment one morning, and was driving to the office late when I remembered the stranger. This was the perfect day to make good on my agreement. I drove by to see if he was there, and my heart jumped at the sight of his little red car. I drove across the street to  McDonald’s and ordered a little bit of everything. I had no idea what this man might like for breakfast, or how he took his coffee, or if he drank coffee at all. When I returned with a bag of breakfast foods, coffee and juice he was awake, sitting up in the front seat. I pulled up next to him, gathered the items, and got out of my car.

I was suddenly nervous. I felt my heart speeding up with each step I took toward his driver side door. I quickly noticed that his car was full from floor board to ceiling with clothing, blankets, trash and all kinds of things. He was talking on a cell phone when I knocked on his window.

“Um, just a second,” he said, placing his phone on the pile of items in the passenger seat. He was a young man, maybe in his twenties. He had dark hair, dark features, kind eyes. 

“Good morning! I brought you some breakfast.” I said, extending the bag and cardboard cup holder toward him.

“Thank you so much!” He took the items from my now trembling hands. “You are so kind! I don’t know how to thank you. What made you want to do this today?”

The honest answer to his question was guilt. I felt guilty sitting in that drive through every day waiting for my coffee while he slept in his car. I felt guilty for having the luxury of my latte habit, and the comfort of the bed I had just left to go to my job that afforded me a life that did not necessitate things like sleeping in my car in a well-lit strip mall parking lot. Probably, this stemmed from my deeper guilt of leaving my family behind in rural Michigan to go make a better life for myself, and being mostly absent from their daily struggles. It was like survivor’s guilt. I could’ve been the one sleeping in my car, but by some miracle, I wasn’t. I had more than I needed, and felt compelled to share my good fortune with this young stranger.

When I opened my mouth to speak, guilt was not on the list of things that came out. The words that fell from my lips were as much a surprise to me as they were to him.

“I want you to know that you are important, and your life matters. People care about you— even some you’ve never met. So, you have to take good care of yourself. Ok?”

“I don’t know how to thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. Just pay it forward someday.”

“I will. I promise. Thank you so much for breakfast. This is really nice.”

“You’re very welcome. Have a great day,” I said, turning to get back in my car.

I felt the lump in my throat growing. Where did that come from? By the time I closed my car door tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“You are important. Your life matters. People care about you- even some you’ve never met. Take good care of yourself.” I repeated the message.

I was sure that something bigger than me had spoken those words. I was so shaken by it, I forgot one very important thing: I didn’t ask the kind stranger for his name- the one way for me to really acknowledge his existence, his humanity- and I forgot to ask. I made another agreement with myself- next time I would bring him a meal and ask his name.

I looked for my friend in the little red car every time I stopped for coffee after that day, but I never saw him again. I never had the opportunity to ask his name or bring him another hot breakfast, but our relationship was far from over.

On my way to the Starbucks, when I looked for the little red car each morning, I had to drive by a large construction site. At first, I thought it was going to be another strip mall. I watched all the trees vanish from the lot, which made me infinitely sad as I thought about all the little creatures who were pushed out of their homes. When the  building began to take shape it was massive- definitely not a strip mall. Then, a sign went up, advertising a new mega church. If there was anything we needed even less than another stupid strip mall, it was another stupid mega church.

I googled the church and found that it came with a price tag of twenty-two million dollars. Less than two miles away from the twenty-two million dollar mega church was the parking lot where the young man in the red car slept. The juxtaposition of these things infuriated me so much, I had to write about it.

I had been blogging for my own personal entertainment for several years. I had just started a little series on my blog called “Buddha Girl in Jesus Town” where I  talked about my personal spiritual journey, and how strange it was to live in the Bible Belt as someone who does not identify as Christian. I began writing a piece I thought I would add to the series, called, “Why Mega Churches are Mega Bullshit”.

As an existentialist, I am always looking for purpose and meaning. As I wrote about the new twenty-two million dollar mega church, I was filled with indignation. I could not fathom how an organization that was supposed to be based on the teachings of Jesus could justify building an arena to honor him— something he would not have wanted according to the teachings in the new testament— instead of feeding our hungry, and housing our homeless. It was a shining example of the kind of superficial, misguided, self-serving hypocrisy I had come to expect from modern Christianity- and the epitome of everything I hate about organized religion.

In the article, I broke down twenty-two million dollars into the number of meals our local homeless shelter could provide. I truly believe this would have pleased Jesus, who taught on hillsides and in the marketplaces, and did not need a temple to make himself look important. As I finished my little rant, I felt a nudge. It was a gentle, familiar push. I had been flirting  with the idea of sending my work out to actual publications for some time. Before clicking the “publish” button on my WordPress site, I went to Elephant Journal’s homepage to read their submission requirements, again.

The toned-down-a-bit version of my piece, “What Mega Churches are Missing” became my first published article on Elephant Journal. When the editor sent me my published link, she said, “This is great writing. I can’t wait to see more from you. Congratulations!”

I cried tears of joy for about three days after the article went live, as people read it, sent me notes, commented, and shared it all over social media. The article was read over five thousand times, and even people who identified as Christian reached out to tell me how much my words resonated with them.

This opened the door to my writing career.

 Over the next 3 years, I would go on to publish more than one hundred articles. My face was added to the Elephant Journal homepage as a Featured Author, and stayed there until I decided to branch out and send my work to other publications. I self published my first book on Amazon- a collection of short stories from my first little blog, Dysfunction Diaries.

That first article about the man in the red car and the bullshit church changed my life in ways I never imagined. It gave me the opportunity to share my personal story. I wrote about mental illness, sexual abuse, feminism, parenting, relationships, and all kinds of current events. I wrote about all the things you’re supposed to avoid in conversation- religion, politics, sex and death. I wrote little love notes to people I had never met, reminding them how perfectly wonderful they are.

I was amazed at the ripple effect that happened as I shared my story. Strangers reached out to tell me how much my words helped them. People who had carried their painful family secrets their whole lives shared those secrets with me. For the first time, I saw the purpose for my suffering, and how sharing my painful past could help other people. I watched as people I loved began to open and share their own stories, many of them even started blogs, and some began submitting their work to Elephant Journal. I felt incredibly humbled and grateful to be part of each journey that intersected mine.

Sometimes, I wonder if the man in a little red car was an angel, sent here to help me find my voice, purpose and power. Sometimes, I wish I could share with him how my life changed after meeting him. Sometimes, I wonder what became of him, and send love into the universe with wishes for his comfort, peace and prosperity.

That was four years ago, and the words are still with me. I still make bags to keep in my car for our local homeless population with hand warmers, toiletries, snacks and a note card with “YOU ARE IMPORTANT” written in big, bold letters. Sometimes, when handed a bag of treats with this message inside, grown men put a hand to their chest and ask, “Me?” It brings me to tears every time, and I say, “Yes. You.”

I thought I was delivering a gift to someone in need that fateful morning. As it turns out, I was the one receiving a gift. This work is my way of paying forward the incredible inspiration and healing that began that day. 

You Are Important is now the working title for my current work in progress. It’s a book about how to overcome our circumstances and create a life we love. It all begins with realizing that we are perfect just the way we are, and that we deserve to have all the things we might think are outside of our reach. But, it’s more than just a book- it’s a call to action. It’s a little push to get uncomfortable and look at the things we may be avoiding so we can resolve them once and for all. It’s a reminder that we get to choose who we will be in this life, and create our experiences through the things we do every day. It’s my challenge to everyone who’s ready; to live authentically, leave our excuses behind, and become who we were born to be.

Most of all, You Are Important is a message of hope and universal love. Our worth is not determined by our bank accounts, job titles, clothing, zip codes, or any other earthly measure. Our worth is inherient. We don’t need to earn, prove or beg for it. It’s woven into the fabric of who we are. We are important because we exist- all of us. When we begin to look at ourselves as worthy, we open up to new ideas and opportunities. When we recognize that all humans are worthy, we might begin to see people differently- we might even treat them differently.

As I work to complete this project, and seek publishing opportunities, I’ll be sharing some little nuggets here to get us thinking about how to make our lives, and the whole wide world around us, even more amazing. Please, join me.

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