Love on accident.

You're probably already doing it.

Hey hi. Welcome to Small Affairs. This week I have a good story, a fall-ish cake, and a cathartic book to share with you.

Yesterday, I was reminded - disturbed, really - of how striking it is to spot kindness out in the wild, the accidental type we sometimes bump into. The more intentional “random acts of kindness” thing became sort of trendy, but to be honest, I can’t maintain the energy for it. I don’t remember to pay for the person’s Starbucks in line behind me. I don’t have the time to be continually creative about paying it forward. It’s just not realistic for me to be present to all the opportunities.

But I do sometimes love on accident.

The young girl in front of me in line at the grocery store looked new in town. I could tell because I live in a college neighborhood and we’ve been recently flooded with a September’s worth of students. But this one looked flustered, uncomfortable in the setting. The checker kept saying, “I’m sorry, it declined again.” The girl had long, red hair; she could have been my daughter.

Apologizing, fumbling with her phone and debit card, she nervously laughed that nothing was working the way it should.

I inched closer to her, looked in her eyes as graciously as I could and said, “How about I just pay for your groceries, and you can Venmo me?” She resisted for only a second, realizing I was the singular path out of her payment crisis which was holding up a long line. I didn’t tell her I was zero percent surprised that her consecutive attempts to use Apple Pay were unsuccessful. I was right; she was a freshman, from a big city, and had landed in small-town Montana, ill-prepared for our primitive point-of-sale devices. I’ve been that woman before. It’s so not fun.

But what was remarkable to me was the number of times the checker behind the plexiglass shook her head and gushed on about how nice I was. At least ten. When it got excessive, I finally stopped mumbling deflections and barked, “I’m not, really. I’m just treating her like I would want my own daughter, new in town, in need of a friend, to be treated.” To my surprise, a tiny, whirling cloud of anger had taken shape with each compliment; I thought, why on earth is it so shocking to see people treating others as if we are in fact interconnected beings?

I judged us all a little right then, particularly myself. Why aren’t we doing better than this? Why isn’t this normal, expected, even? I took a deep breath. My heart hurt.

We hustled hands through all the plastic sacks and shuffled outside. I turned back to the red-haired girl who was following and genuinely grateful. I asked her if she knew anyone in town and she said no. Not one. So at the edge of the parking lot, she handed me her phone; it was open to a new contact page, blank.

We are all sisters. All daughters. All neighbors, all of us fellow wanderers far from home. Turns out, she had just moved from the town adjacent to mine in Southern California. We had once lived about three exits apart.

Consider the glory you already carry. Consider the ways you’re filling the world with beauty without even trying. Just by being the person you were created to be, doing the things you were created to do, you are cultivating goodness. You always have something to offer, to hold out to someone. I know a woman who places twenty dollar bills inside books at Barnes & Noble every year on her late husband’s birthday. I know a three-year-old who picks up trash on his street because he cares about the earth. I know a dog who snuggles as close as she can to your body when you’re feeling blue. They are responding to their unique heart-callings.

Do I believe in some mystical plan like a God who placed me behind that young girl because my calling was to befriend her? Abso-freaking-lutely. Thank that same God I even noticed. That I wasn’t on my phone instead, impatient and annoyed like I sometimes am.

These accidental-love stories humble the heck out of me because it’s truly what brings me life; I want to be caught up in the constant intertwining of lives, the entanglement of humanness and hope.

Let’s not overcomplicate things. We are already wired for love; we are already resourced with blessings. You already have it. You’re already doing it. Melding the glory we carry, our unique heart-callings, with an awareness that those around us need the very things we have to give is all we need to do.

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make this.

Life-hack Apple Cake

This is the cake you need to bring to the class party, the Friendsgiving, and the fire station to thank those hardworking souls. It’s very simple and quite a crowd pleaser. Preheat oven to 350*. Use a well-buttered 9x13 baking dish or pan. It’s pretty sweet. Feel free to reduce the sugar in the topping if desired.

Ingredients:

1 box yellow cake mix (I KNOW: why it’s a life-hack cake)

1 C sour cream

1 stick (8T) softened butter

1 egg

3 C peeled (or not?) apple slices

juice from 1 lemon

1/2 C sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 C oats

STEP 1: Combine the cake mix with the sour cream, half the butter, and the egg. Spread it into the 9x13 dish and bake it for 10 minutes.

STEP 2: Toss the apples with the lemon juice. Lay these neatly in rows on top of the cake.

STEP 3: Combine the sugar, cinnamon, and oats. Sprinkle onto the top of apples with a spoon.

STEP 4: Dot the cake with the rest of the butter and bake for another 30-40 min. Do not open the oven to peek. Cool for at least 20 min. before serving.

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read this.

The Midnight Library is in the running for my favorite fiction read for 2021. Although, technically I didn’t read it; I listened to the audiobook, which was extra-incredible because it is fully acted by one of my favorites, Carey Mulligan. She plays Daisy in The Great Gatsby, and she’s also married to this legend.

But more importantly, The Midnight Library is written by Matt Haig, and he is a beautiful human. During a particularly dark bout of depression, he nearly took his own life a couple decades ago. One of my current favorite follows, he writes with an awe-inspiring balance of deep compassion, courage, and humor on his Instagram account.

In light of September being Suicide Prevention Awareness month, I wanted to share The Midnight Library with you. We are introduced to the heroine when she is in much the same place Matt Haig found himself in several years ago. Though in the book, Nora is offered a fantastic choice in the midst of a library chock full of stories of her life, paths she could have taken but didn’t. Paths she can choose to try out, if she wishes. If you’ve ever wished you’d made a different choice, or simply wondered how your life had turned out if you’d had done one thing or another differently, you may enjoy this. It’s an easy read (or listen) and the ending was poignant and memorable. You can check out my review here on GoodReads.

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I’ll close with something Matt Haig says often on his Instagram account: stay with us. If you’ve struggled with depression or thoughts of self-harm, please tell someone. We want you here, with us, humanness and hope intertwining.

Your heart is good.

You are the beloved,

Leslie

“It’s easier to learn to be soaked and happy than to learn how to stop the rain.” - Matt Haig

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