Service without Human Contact

D'you suppose going to the dentist, opening my mouth, allowing the picks and brushes, and even the jaw-widening x-rays to intrude, counts as an act of service?

Following this early-morning visit with the dental hygienist, I went looking for a small act of service to perform today. Small, because I have many concerns and preparations of my own to deal with today. Books and materials to gather, gifts for a niece. Piano books for my sister. Black suede furry slippers for the son who moved to Arizona in the hot summer. Slippers left behind, unneeded in the heat. I'm really sending him a little bit of home. I'm wishing him home. Car to pack.

Amazing pumpkin cheesecake to create. Celebrating a 75th birthday for a mother who we weren't sure would see her 45th. Cancer, long ago, and beaten. Pumpkin cheesecake better be amazing, outstanding.

Oh so tempting today, just for today, to focus inward, to my own extended family. So, a tiny act of service; fulfill the obligation. A quick drop-off at the Food Bank, and the Busy Hands volunteers there. Some cloth, a bit of ribbon. Small offerings. And a mistake, for the Food Bank. Labels ordered to organize my own well-stocked pantry that can feed us for weeks. Labels I hope will fit the shelves of the Food Bank. Quick drop-off, never communicating with another human, even. Something is missing then.

A new rule:  An act of service must involve contact with another human being.

Living with Open Hands

Day 2: Donating to Goodwill

I'm a regular at my local Goodwill store donation drive-through. The workers are used to seeing me show up a couple of times per week, with my white laundry basket full of donations. As soon as my basket in the hallway is full, I prefer to drop it off instead of waiting for a whole carload. 

Pros: I get unneeded items out of the house quickly, don't have to have as much stuff setting around in the house, and I have no chance to second-guess my choices to donate. 

Cons: I get one tax receipt per donation, and have to file all the receipts in the Taxes 2012 file drawer. I try to list all the donated items before I take them. I make a Google Docs file, and list the items on there. Ideally, these lists would be printed out and stapled to the receipt from Goodwill, but as of now, I don't have my laptop set up to print on the printer I have available, so I'll be facing a backlog of printing out lists at the end of the year. It will be worth my time, since I am doing so much donating, to set up my laptop so it can easily print. Fortunately for me, the Goodwill Donation Drive-Through is near the shopping area where I am often going anyway. I never drive to Goodwill unless I am already doing another errand in the area. 

There are many options for getting rid of items one doesn't need. I have tried holding a garage sale with a friend before, but felt the amount of money we earned through the sale was not really worth the time to prepare and hold the sale. 

So to streamline this process for myself, and to try to limit the agonizing over what to do with each item, I've been more inclined to just donate as much as possible to Goodwill. We are able to itemize the donations, and in 2011, we donated enough to get quite a break on our taxes. It's simpler than donating items all over town, or trying to match up each item with exactly the right person. 

I still do a bit of donating items to other causes, too. Any medical, such as crutches, ankle braces, or walking casts has been donated to the Sister Maura Brannick Health Center, which is a clinic for low-income people who do not qualify for Medicaid. Cloth, ribbon, and yarn are donated to Busy Hands, a group meeting at our local Food Bank. Busy Hands can use all types of cloth and sewing supplies. Their volunteers sew items for people in need. And once in awhile, there is an item I have trouble letting go, but if I do know someone who can use it and appreciate it, it helps me to open my hands.

But for 95% of the items I am ready to let go, Goodwill is my destination of choice. 

I'm learning to live with open hands.

LB

Finding My Vision

After 2 months of Empty Nest Life, I'm still working on finding my vision for the rest of my life. I've made more progress in the "What I am NOT Going to Do" category than anything else. Time for some positive direction. What I keep coming back to, is the idea that only serving others is going to help me feel fulfilled for the rest of my life. Yes, I have some other personal goals, family goals, and home-related goals to accomplish. But to feel and maintain a sense of worth, I feel called to reach out to others, and help others outside of my own family. For the past 17 years, I have devoted myself entirely to my family, to raising and educating our 4 children at home. I have poured out my heart and soul, my mind and body, to this endeavor. Not only am I somewhat drained from this experience, I feel it is time to look outward now.

Hence the commencement of my Serving Everyday project. I've been noticing that the best days I've had, are the days when I can point to what I did that day to make a difference in the world. Or at least a very small part of the world. Or even to just one other person in the world. I have to do something. Daily. And write about it.

So here goes:

Day 1: I drove my friend Becky to our church's Bible study. I enjoy Becky's company; she's got insights that are keen and sharp, honed by what she calls her "Ghetto" upbringing. Today Becky chatted the ENTIRE way to the church. I really had to focus hard to make sure I drove the right way, amidst stories of whoredom of the 1970s, "bad new strains" of VD, and her friend being dumped unceremoniously over the state line by the police and told NOT TO COME BACK. Just the thing to accompany our drive through the wind and rain to Bible study. I felt just middling about this service, though, as I think Becky wanted to arrive earlier at church. When I arrived at Becky's house to pick her up, I sat in the car, putting on a bit of makeup to cover up a breakout, not realizing she didn't get my text saying I was out at the curb. NOTE TO SELF: Always go up to the door when picking up someone. It's nice, and I could have helped her better to carry the delicious treats she was bringing.

My second serving experience of the day was visiting my friend Elsa in the nursing home. Today found Elsa is good spirits, and looking freshly showered. Thank you oh-gosh-what-was-her-name-the-CNA who managed to get Elsa to shower and get her hair washed. Arriving just as Elsa finished her lunch, I immediately coaxed her into a tour of the building, and headed for the elevator, pushing Elsa ahead of me in her wheelchair. Upstairs, she suddenly remembered where the hair dresser was, and she consented to a trim of her white locks. Elsa ended up with a cute bob, taking at least 3 years off her age of 87. We had good conversation all the way through the haircut, and even while Elsa was under the old-lady-style hair dryer. Her hearing is quite intact! Debbie did a cute simple cut on Elsa's hair. I just wished Debbie wouldn't say "Alzheimer's Wing" so many times. The euphemism "Auguste's Cottage" (named for the first woman diagnosed with Alzheimer's) goes over better in front of Elsa, since she has no idea she might have Alzheimer's. She certainly has some type of dementia, but she doesn't know that either.

YOU'VE GOT MAIL: Heading back into Elsa's room, surprised by the best of possible presents when you are 87 and living in a nursing home: a handwritten card and note from an old dear friend, age 92. Nothing could make Elsa happier, except the unlikely prospect of a face-to-face visit. I think Elsa and I will have a new conversation pattern now that will run something like this:

Elsa: Shirley lives in Texas.
Me: Yes, Shirley used to live in Texas, but now she moved to Vancouver, Washington.
Elsa: I think she sold her house.
Me: Yes, she sold her house a few years ago.
Elsa: She lives with her son Fred now.
Me: Well, she did live with Fred. Now she moved out to Vancouver, WA, to an apartment near her daughter's.
Elsa: Shirley is a very independent person.
Me: Yes, she is living in an apartment for senior citizens.
Elsa: Shirley lives in Texas.   (Repeat)

There are several conversations Elsa and I have had. Over and over. Each time, it's like a new conversation. It used to frustrate me a little. Under normal circumstances, this behavior would be a bit exasperating. But as I've learned to live in the moment with Elsa (because that is mostly what she has, the present, and the way-long-past), the frustration and exasperation has melted away. It truly does not bother me not to have the same conversation each time. NOTE TO SELF:  Live in the moment. Be fully present.

I did not provide World Peace today. I didn't even do anything to help all the people out East, feeling the effects of Hurricane Sandy, except pray, and keep in touch with my son whose college lost power. I watch helplessly as the scenes of flooding, fires, and destruction pass by on the big screen. But for today, I think I made one elderly woman's world a little bit better place.

LB