Five Small Things
that are actually *not* small things
One // We mostly know each other through the Internet, although we’ve met twice in person: once in Chicago and once in our home state of California. Most people would consider us acquaintances at best, but I feel a natural kinship with this woman, the kind that says even though I don’t know her birthday, or her coffee order, or her entire life story, I know enough to call her a friend. And so, when I hear she is fighting cancer, again, I track down her address and send a few things in the mail—fuzzy socks, a book, some face masks and a card—to let her know I am thinking of her. The whole thing costs less than $30 and roughly 10 minutes of my time. To me, it is nothing. A blip in my day. She later sends me an elaborate email thanking me for the gesture, which apparently made her cry. What I can't get over is that you thought of me at all, she writes.
Two // Every year on the anniversary of my miscarriage, my friend Laura texts me. The first year she did this, I wondered how in the world she could have remembered the date. It occurred to me later: she must have put a note in her calendar.
Three // My yoga studio begins each class by asking everyone to “greet their neighbor.” This rhythm sticks out amid a sea of other gyms and studios where I’ve previously worked out and never known a single person’s name. You get in, you exercise, you get out. Here, though, we introduce ourselves before we do anything. Throughout class, that rhetoric continues. Look out for your neighbor! Check on your neighbor! That was really hard; give your neighbor a high five! I once saw a Christian influencer ranting about yoga in her Instagram stories, calling it “evil” and “dangerous”—ironically, both words she’s used to describe people who vote differently than her. And I guess there’s irony in this, too: while the Christian influencer continues to publicly demonize half the American population on her Instagram page, my yoga studio is the one consistently reminding me to see everyone in my vicinity as a neighbor.
Four // Over the weekend, I receive a private message from a woman who’s just finished catching up on a bunch of Coffee + Crumbs podcast episodes. I don’t know if it matters to hear this today, she writes, but what you do matters. I tell her the truth. ANY time I hear that kind of encouragement, it matters.1
Five // My friend Sarah has just finished spilling her guts on Voxer, unexpectedly crying a tiny bit at the end. Before I get a chance to reply, Katie pops on and says, “I see you. I love you. And this is really, really hard.” Those three lines swirl in my head for the rest of the night. Simple. Straightforward. Drenched in compassion. Possibly the perfect thing to say when you don’t know what to say. I see you. I love you. And this is really, really hard.
Tell me one of yours?
P.s. My Substack is always free to read, but if you’d like to support my work, you can purchase a copy of Create Anyway (currently $5.39 on Amazon 🤯 or pre-order a copy of our latest Coffee + Crumbs magazine). ❤️
Especially when, the following day, I receive a different kind of feedback. You have utterly disappointed me, a woman writes, explaining why she is unsubscribing. Good times. 🤪
Just want to say that my oldest is almost six and a half. Coffee and crumbs has never disappointed me. Not once in all of my years of mothering. Coffee and crumbs has been the mentor mom I didn't have, the middle of the night nursing session companion and the burst of encouragement while unloading the millionth load from the dishwasher (or dryer or any other mondaine but vital task) through out these years. Thank you for sharing your talents and your stories... Please don't end too soon!
I told my college best friend that we are pregnant with our third and after the congratulatory texts she adds in one line, “You are fully equipped.” Somehow that right there made me want to simultaneously bawl my eyes out and be brave enough to believe that I am indeed fully equipped.