This story was previously published by 83 Degrees Media.

Just before dawn the street in an established, tree-lined neighborhood of Tampa is quiet and dark until you come to the home of well-known Tampa surgeon, Dr. Sylvia Campbell. Ablaze with lights and abuzz with activity, the scent of freshly baked muffins wafts out the front door. 

The kitchen is filled with Dr. Campbell’s daughters, friends, and former patients, many of whom are breast cancer survivors. Forged into a unit by their feelings of gratitude and a desire to pay it forward, they named themselves “Kindness Matters”. After what they’ve been through and what they’ve seen, they know how much it does.

One Saturday a month, they gather in Dr. Campbell’s kitchen to assemble “care bags” for the homeless filled with water, fruit, and freshly made peanut butter sandwiches. The bags are placed in large wagons, along with picnic thermoses of steaming hot water to make instant coffee and hot chocolate.

Matts woven from plastic grocery bags by members of Dr. Campbell’s church are tightly rolled and placed in the wagons next to small fleece blankets. Even in Tampa, one needs protection from the damp chill of night air when the ground is your only bed.

The assembling and packing of the wagons complete they are placed into a caravan of SUVs that heads toward Bay Shore Boulevard where the process is reversed. The wagons are checked to be sure each load is secure before being pulled away by a Kindness Matters volunteer.  Their rumbling on the pavement is the only sound to be heard while the first light of dawn appears over the bay.

As the sunrise turns from an orange slit in the darkness to a horizon-spanning display of brilliant red and gold, the group stops to appreciate the splendor before continuing north on Bay Shore, where they check each bench overlooking the water to see if anyone is sleeping there. On this day, there is no one. Dr. Campbell says that is the likely result of an increased police presence in advance of the Gasparilla 5K run scheduled for the following weekend.

The group exits Bay Shore where they discover a woman lying on a concrete walkway under a bridge across from a Publix supermarket. Shoppers bustling around laden with grocery bags starkly contrast with the still figure in the sleeping bag. 

A Kindness Matters volunteer quietly leaves a care bag and bottle of water by the woman’s side and the group moves on.

Their arrival at Curtis Hixon Waterfront Park causes a small crowd to gather. “We’ve been looking for you”, one man says as he accepts a hot cup of coffee, “You’re looking good today”, comments one of the volunteers. I got a haircut yesterday”, he says, adding with a sly smile, “I kept my beard because you said you liked it”.

There’s an easy rapport between the giver and receiver. Many of the park’s occupants are known to the volunteers even as their stories remain a mystery. When asked their name the reply is often a street version of a nom de guerre. Family identities like the families themselves have faded into a murky past.

Sitting close, holding hands, on a bench looking out at the river, “Maggie and Cowboy” agree to have their photo taken. She smooths her hair; he adjusts his hat; they smile and strike a pose. Seeing them at that moment, they could be any couple enjoying a Saturday morning in the park…if only all their worldly possessions weren’t in bundles beside them.

“Got any books”, one man asks. He chooses a romance novel from the Kindness Matters “traveling library”. Dr. Campbell remarks that books are one of their most requested items. Escaping into another reality must be very appealing when the one you live in poses so many challenges.

As the group leaves the park, they pass an older woman on a bench. “Oh it’s Diana”, one of the volunteers says. Diana’s face lights up in a warm, sweet smile, the kind of smile Madison Avenue uses to show grandmotherly love. She looks through the care bag and nods approvingly at its contents. Sitting atop her belongs is a stuffed bear wearing a hat that says “Smile”. The volunteers comment on what a cute bear he is. “Oh, he sings when he’s happy”, Diana says. The group pulls away to the sound of a bear serenade.

Heading for their next stop, the volunteers encounter a woman on Zack Street. Unlike others, she does not acknowledge their presence. Her head is down and she doesn’t look well. There is a nasty bruise on her cheek. Dr. Campbell leans toward her to get a better look, a move that elicits a defensive pull-back and a stern “Don’t touch me”. After a moment she says, “Someone pushed me”.

“There’s nothing we can do in these cases”, Dr. Campbell says. “We can’t touch them or even offer medical advice. All we can do is tell them to go to a clinic”.

It is late morning. Kindness Matters has been walking and ministering for many miles and many hours when they arrive at their last stop, Gaslight Park.  

As soon as the wagons come into view a line forms. The care bags and water bottles are nearly gone; there aren’t enough to go around. The hot water is running low. One of the volunteers ducks into a nearby deli where a young man behind the counter offers to fill up the thermos saying he’s happy to help.

Despite the disappointment of low supplies, there is no hint of anger, in fact, the opposite. Each cup of coffee is met with a “Thank you, ma’am”, or “May I please have some sugar?” Looking over the scene, one man says wistfully, “I bought my son a wagon just like that”. It is hard not to ask, “Where is that son, now?”

Today’s Kindness Matters mission is complete. Leaving the park, Dr. Campbell points out pieces of cardboard scattered on the ground. “That is where someone sleeps”, she says.

There is no way to know how someone’s baby ends up with a piece of cardboard as a bed. During our outing, no visible behavior indicated the influence of drugs or alcohol. There was more a feeling of Peter Pan’s Lost Boys: Lives that somehow went missing and couldn’t find their way home.

Within the structure of their current reality, when weather determines where and how well you sleep, and food insecurity is a constant, Tampa’s homeless have one thing they can count on…a monthly visit from a group of angels in pink t-shirts and walking shoes who know just how much Kindness Matters.