Plasma

I woke up with no desire to run and I have felt guilty all day. So I begin my work day by
running to pick up a donation way across town,
only to find that I am not quiet dressed for the occasion.
I return to my office empty handed but not before I get a lunch meeting in.

My next appointment is a conference call. I serve on a Peer Learning Group
and today is our first visit on what we are each doing to help young adults
earn a post secondary education. I dial in and sit quietly as the others chime in.
I listen and share as we speak of engagement and effectiveness.
We talk of sustainability and multisector initiatives.
An hour into the phone call I begin to day dream. I am not good at sitting I am better at
doing. I don't want to talk about things I want to do things, although I understand
dialogue is necessary especially if we wish to create lasting change.

I am ready to receive my first face to face for the day. She is eager to live in
her own place. She is eager to be self sufficient and I am eager to help her.
We go over her plan. She has an Associates in Business but working in
a warehouse because she can not seem to find a job in her field.
We begin by going over the many barriers we must overcome in order to get us to our destination.
Just talking about it makes me feel overwhelmed. 
Not her she is focused she has 5 little reasons that keep her that way.

I am interrupted by someone handing me a note. It reads "Jane Doe is waiting in the lobby."
I ask the family in front of me if I can have a few moments with the lady in the lobby.
They graciously agree. I escort the family I am working with to the lobby and call the other family in.

I greet and ask them to come in. As they sit I ask who referred them. The mom replies
" We went to a church for help and they sent us here." I smile and quickly begin filling out my form.
I ask for her needs. She states she is in need of help paying her rent.
I ask what has caused her to fall behind. She tells me "I was sick and so was my three year old. I
wanted to go to work but the daycare wouldn't let my baby stay because he was sick."
I ask her "Will you be able to pay your bills next month if we help you this month?"
She replies "yes."

I ask for her income just to make sure she will make it. She makes 900 and her bills are 1000
and that does not include food or hygiene.
I tell her she is still going to be short and she replies "No I sell my plasma,
I just couldn't sell my plasma last month because I was sick."
I then ask "Can you pay your bills without selling your plasma?"
She softly answers "No."
I tell her "I am sorry." I'm stunned I don't know what else to say.
She sees my sadness and responds with "no that's ok, I'm ok." 
I tell her "no that's not ok. It's not ok with me."  Through broken words she speaks again
 "It's ok, my head hurts for only two hours but then I am fine."

I gasp for breath and tell her "Together we will figure out a way. A way where you and
your baby can eat with out you selling your plasma." I get up to hug her and she is
shocked that I would care. Why would she be shocked that a person in "Social Service" would care?
She pats me on the back and tells me "thank you." I will never forget that gratitude.

I've only been doing this for a very short three years and I don't know that I will ever be okay with people suffering.
When it no longer breaks my heart to see people suffer I will find something else to do.
I want to be driven to help each person as if they belonged to me.

We are never so defensless against suffering as when we love.
Sigmund Freud

My heart hurts

 I arrive to a stack of folders, emails and messages. All from people seeking a better way of life. All searching for an opportunity to earn a living wage. Education is what they are in search of but they just can't verbalize it yet.

 Later that day I have lunch with a new friend. I met her when she started contributing to our cause. I arrive late and she doesn't seem to mind. While enjoying our meal we begin to converse. I notice that she seems uncomfortable. I would even say embarrassed. We continue our conversation and I sense she is becoming more uneasy by the minute. My heart takes hold and I begin to understand what it is, I have seen this many times.

 I change the conversation by sharing my story. I speak of the times I was in need and she begins to cry. I know it is not my story that brings those tears. I am certain now that need is present. I ask how I can help. She begins to tell me that she is a proud college graduate and she is certain that no one else has gone through what she is facing. I assure her she is wrong.With much shame she speaks of her need and I assure her that there is other proud college graduates that have been through the same thing. I tell her those other proud college graduates will answer her cry for help.

 On my way back to my office I make a quick stop at one of our local Life Changing churches. They truly practice what they preach, "to do unto the least of these". I stop to thank them for funds and like always take the time to share a story. I tell them of our single mother of three. I explain that she was abandoned by her husband. I mention how well she is doing in school and I thank them for providing the funds that will reinstate her electricity and water. Before I leave I assure them that they are building capacity for those in need.

 I arrive at my office and another Neighbor is waiting for me. I inform her that a Life Changer has gifted her funds to have her utilities reinstated. She is overwhelmed and so am I. The thought of good Samaritans in this day and age caring for someone they don't know. Through her tears she says she wishes she could do something to repay us. I tell her she can. I tell her to graduate and someday she will be able to help someone like she has been helped. She assures me she will.

My heart is full. She leaves and I begin to go through my emails. I open one and immediately wish that I had not. As I read I feel as if a dagger has pierced my heart. This email is different it hurts in a different kind of way.

You have to remember most of the time I live in a fairytale. A place where people don't say no when asked to help others. A place where people care about each other just because they are people. A place where everyone I am surrounded with gives of there excess so others can succeed. A place where the elderly are honored and respected.
A place where children are feed when they are hungry. A place where "every child has the right to be prepared to go to college". A place where the battle on Poverty is being won.

Sometimes I forget that not everyone wants to be good and decent to each other. Well this email reminded me that not everyone lives in my fairytale. This gentlemen wanted me to know that not everyone wanted to help "Lazy people".

I sit with my face in my hands and I think of what I should reply. Ugliness is beginning to take over. My fingers swoosh across the keyboard and on the screen a clever reply is forming. A reply that will not only pierce this gentleman's heart but it will make him feel as if I am twisting  the dagger as I insert it.  And just when he thinks I am done I would add another small line in my reply. One that would allow him to feel as if I jerked the dagger back out only to pierce it again. Almost instantly I am reminded of grace and mercy, that is granted to me daily. I am moved to hit delete.

I try to explain to God that I merely want to share with this fellow.
I want to share with him the story of my big blue eyed curly haired three year old little girl.
I want to invite him to spend the day with me. Just one day and while in the mist of these
"Lazy People". I will ask him to pick one, just one child that he would refuse food to.
I want to invite him to go meet "Lazy Joe" a Neighbor that would wake at midnight 6 days a week to walk two hours to catch a bus to work. I will explain how on "Lazy Joes" day off he would get up early to stand at man labor to find more work. I will also mention that for two of those months "Lazy Joe" did all this with a broken foot.


I am certain that "I will do all the good I can. By all the means I can. In all the ways I can. At all the times I can. To all the people I can. As long as I can".

Do something

As I prepare to travel to San Antonio, tomorrow morning.
I am rushed trying to get my day complete.
I am gathering diapers and other things that are in need.
I am working on a "to help list" for my assistant. It is currently two pages long and
growing. My thoughts are not here they are at the River Walk.

This morning a friend calls and asks me to stop by his shoe and hygiene closet.
He tells me he wants me to meet this weeks mission group.
Its amazing to me that children will give up a week of their summer to serve others. To serve
people they don't know in a town that's not home.

It is now 3:00 and I am no where near done. My phone buzz's and its the lovely lady
that manages the front.  She rings to tell me that I have someone in the lobby.
I get up bothered that my work has been interrupted.
I walk in the lobby and see a young women. I call her name and a little one comes
around the corner. I immediately crushed because I thought of ignoring my buzzard. I smile as best I can and
say "well hello." She replies with "hello", a hello that only a 3 year old can give.

We reach my office and I say to them "please excuse the mess", as I have food stacked
everywhere. I begin to speak to the young mother as we are helping her get into a home.
She has been homeless for 3 years. This baby girl that she calls her own, is not her
biological child. She took custody of this baby from her sister, the day this precious being
was born. Her mother was unable to care for her due to her drug addiction.

As I am visiting with the mother this little girl attempts to come around my desk.
This young mother tries to stop her but I tell her "its ok".
I stoop down to make eye contact with this little girl.
I immediately notice her big blue eyes. I can barely see them through
the strands of curls hanging over her face.
I ask her what she needs and she softly speaks "I'm hungry".

I feel paralyzed. I feel as if time has stopped. I feel like a ton of bricks is sitting on my heart.
I feel like I have been kicked in the stomach. I find it difficult to speak. I can not find words.
My mind finally forms words, but my mouth does not open.
The silence is deafening. I hear nothing.

The silence is broken and I ask "what do you want to eat". She speaks again "cereal".
I grab a bag of cereal and I hand it to her. I tell her I have more food and I tell her
to take what ever she wants.
I bought this food a couple of weeks ago in hopes that I could bless someone with it.
After a week of it sitting in my office I began to wonder why I had bought so much.
I guess I know why now. It was for this blue eyed, curly haired, three year old little girl.

I am so thankful I didn't ignore the buzzard. I am so thankful I decided to give those 90 seconds to
this blue eyed, curly haired, three year old little girl.

I have a friend that buys hygiene, when its on sale. She makes care packages to put in her car.
When she sees a homeless person in need of help she gives them a care package.
We can all do something or we can all do nothing. 

 Sometimes we impact others by doing something,

and sometimes we impact others more by doing nothing.

Elia

I asked him

My vanity wakes me, it wakes me early. I rise ready to defeat the world.
This summer, I am tasked with the chore of taking my daughter to early morning workouts.
 It is brisk out and we are on our way to practice. I look over at my daughter and
 tell her "this old lady will out do you today." She smiles and responds with a "mom!" 

I barely survive the workout and get ready to head to work.
On my drive in I stop and get my dreaded addiction, Chick-fil-A.
I am feeling good about myself.  I love the feeling of accomplishment so early in the morning.
It brings on an extra dose of cockiness. Head high, shoulders back, I commence my stroll into the building. I am busy thinking about me. Cup in hand and tummy full, I straighten my hair.
I look down to admire my perfectly painted toes. Vanity is present. 

I barely make it in the door when I am brought to a hault, by our lovely receptionist.
She informs me that the gentlemen using the phone needs some help. I wait till he gets off the phone and then I ask him, how I can be of service. He tells me he is in need of a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. I ask him to wait in our lobby as I run to our hygiene closet, to retrieve his request.
 I run back into the building, as I reach him I hand him the bag. I ask him to follow me to my office. 

We reach my office and I ask him to sit. I notice how clean he is. I notice there is no vanity there, he is humble and meek. I begin to lose interest in my self and my vanity quickly leaves me. Ephesians 4:2 Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.

I begin by asking him his name and he gently replies. I ask him about his educational background. He softly tells me "I finished the 7th grade." I ask him what his current struggles are. He takes a moment and then he speaks "I just finished serving 15 years in prison." I pause for a moment, I look up and his gaze is to the floor. My heart aches as I see shame in his posture.
My next question is if he is employed. He reply's with "No one will hire people like me."
I continue to ask him questions. I ask him if he has any type of income. He answers "no".
I ask him where he stays and he quietly responds "my truck."  I ask him where he eats and his voice cracks as he speaks  "I don't like crowds, because it brings back memories of prison."
  He looks up at me and I can see his pain. He speaks again "When I get really hungry  I go to Salvation Army, but most of the time I just don't eat." I observe his sunken cheek bones and his thin stature.

He leaves and I go about my day. All day I am troubled about this one man that will not eat today. I am reminded that many veterans in this business often tell me I can't help everyone. That is not what my heart saids. My heart reminds me that this man is someone's father. This man is someone's child. This man is human. Who am I to deny food to a human. 

It is 5:00 and I go to Wal-mart. I buy some pop tarts, peanut butter and other things that require no cooking.  You could say I made an adult snack pack. I go back to the office and I call him. He answers and I ask if he is near. He tells me he is across the street at the park. I ask him to swing buy and pick up his dinner. I meet him at the door and hand him his goods. He smiles and I feel his spirit.   

 What does that mean any way, "people like me". I want to be a "people like him."  
 

“Do all the good you can,

 By all the means you can,

In all the ways you can,

In all the places you can,

At all the times you can,

To all the people you can,

As long as ever you can.”  

John Wesley

Keynote

We had another successful Opportunity Conference.
I had the opportunity to witness a Neighbor win a $50 gift card and because there
was someone at her table that was in more need than she was. She gave her gift card away.
It was a wonderful day with many of the community present. It we will be my

pleasure to  help these families daily and see them succeed little by little.

By Monday I have  recovered and I am quickly making plans to leave town for the week.

I have plans to get on a plane Tuesday afternoon but not  before I
I attend my 18 year old sons funeral.
No it was Not real, it was a mock funeral created by an organization called "every 15 minutes"

Every 15 minutes we lose a loved one as a result of an alcohol related collision.
It was not an experience I care to repeat. My son wanted to take part to help save a life
and me and my husband reluctantly agreed.
My son will graduate this year and he will pursue a life in ministry.
He is a servant and wants to help all people in need.

His death was announced on that Monday. He was taken to a secluded place and we would have no contact with him for over 24 hours.
Even though we knew it wasn't real we couldn't help think what if.  A tombstone with his picture on it was placed in the school cafeteria.
Tuesday as we walk into the school for his mock funeral, they hand us his obituary. It was the worst 15 minutes of my life.
All to show those students, that every thing we do matters to someone somewhere.

I survive and  arrive in San Antonio ready for my first key note experience. I do not use note cards or power point slides.

I prefer to stand and bare my heart to anyone who will listen, but because it is my first keynote, I was uneasy.
 Tuesday at midnight because I felt so unprepared, I decide I would work on tailoring my presentation to their theme
"Planting a Seed and Reaping Success"

Wednesday morning I wake up and run down stairs to print my notes on this new power point I have developed.
All computers in the hotels business center are busy.
I go down several times that day and each time everything is occupied.
Finally it is 2:37 and I am scheduled to speak at 3:00.
Again everything is full.
I notice a young man playing on face book. I'm instantly irritated and yes I approach him.

I ask if he would allow me two minutes on his computer so I can print some notes.
He responds with a glare. I notice a guitar sitting at his side. I ask if he plays, he
picks it up and begins to play and points out that he is missing a string.

My mind is racing and I tell him I  will make him a deal. I tell him that I am about to present to a
large crowd and if he allows me the use of his computer, I will let him be my opening act.
He agrees. I print my notes and off I go up stairs and now I have an entourage.

I stand in front of the crowd before me and explain I want to welcome them , San Antonio style.

I motion for my "band" to take the stage and the crowd goes crazy. Then I explain that I just
met the young man down stairs and the room is quickly filled with laughter.

 

After this adventure I decided I want to give opportunities when I can to every one I can.

 

 

Everything you do matters to someone somewhere somehow

   Elia Moreno

The Dime

Friday morning and I have but a few hours left before our big event.
 It has been 26 days with out a day of rest.  My list is made and we will work until its all done.

I get in the shower, only to discover the mess my daughter has left.
Apparently she took a bath last night and she didn't bother to drain her water.
Not, how I wanted to start my morning. I grab my tub cleaner and begin scrubbing.
I've lost precious time and now I won't have time to fix my hair.
I decide that will not be a problem, I will put it up in a pony tail.
I reach for my hair spray, in hopes that it will keep my hair in place.
I spray it on thicker than usual. I notice a thick white foam sitting on my head.
That is when I realize that I am spraying tub cleaner on my hair.
No time to rewash my hair. I grab the bottle of hairspray and spray it over the tube cleaner.

All day I battle with getting my list complete. I hustle and bustle,  finally 8:30 rolls around.
My husband calls and asks, if I've eaten dinner. I tell him, "I'm starved".
We decide to meet at an eatery on Soncy.

I run to the bathroom to freshen up. I take my hair down and I am shocked at what I see.
My hair has an undesirable crispiness to it. I'm thinking I should of taken the time to rewash my hair.
It is 8:30 pm and no beauty salon is open. It hits me,  my husband is about to go to a barbershop.
I know what your thinking but at this point this is my only shot.
I call and ask if they will cut my hair. They agree and I am relieved.
I print a picture of a short haircut, off the Internet.

When my husband walks in I am already in line for my hair cut. He knows me o so well.
He is horrified and asks what I'm doing. I tell him I am in line for a haircut and the two men behind
him stare in bewilderment.
In a hushed voice through clinched teeth, my husband responds. "They don't cut girls hair here!"
I reply with a gentle, "Oh yes they do, I called and asked."
My husband turns around and takes his seat as I head to my "barbers chair".

I hand my short hair cut picture over. I sit for a very short time and as I am handed the mirror.
I notice I have just received a bowl cut slash skater boy hair cut. I am beside myself.
I am disgusted with my bowl cut, I guess the bowl on the counter should of given me a hint.
I just thought it was a candy bowl.

I arrive at home and my 9 year old runs out to greet me. He begins to tell me of his day.
I am not paying attention my focus is still on my hair. Who invented the bowl cut anyway?
He is waving papers in front of me and all I hear is "I'm selling them for a dime",
that catches my attention. I ask "why are you selling bookmarks for a dime?"

He begins to explain how he made them and took them to school to sell. I immediately
begin to think of how I will explain this to his teacher. I hear, "Mom do you know what I'm selling them for?"
I start to explain that he can't sell things in school. My baby boy responds,
"Mom I am going to take the dimes and buy food to help the poor people"
"Just like you mom." All of the sudden my bowl cut doesn't matter.

Anybody want to buy a handmade paper bookmark?

Eyebrows

Hello Lifechangers,

I am busy getting ready for my trip to North Carolina. I notice my two eyebrows
are quickly connecting and forming one. I decide that is my queue to visit a beauty technician.
I arrive and I am approached and asked about my needs. I point to my eyebrows and the kind
technician quickly grabs my hand and leads me to a chair.

We begin to make small talk. She starts by asking if I am from Thailand. I assure her that I am not.
I explain that I am Mexican. She smiles and begins to try and convince me                                                           
that I may be from Thailand. I can not seem to convince her, so I try and change the subject.
I ask her where she is from and she begins to talk of her beloved China.

What vanity would have us do. She works on me what seems for hours. The
moment of truth, she hands me the mirror. I look into the mirror and see a few scraggly strands of hair,
where my eyebrows use to be. I politely say thank you and run towards the door.  
I am convinced that this technician was desperately trying to make me look a little more asian.

I am horrified that I will have to travel with a team of leaders and I have no eyebrow's!   
I call my daughter and ask for help learning to draw eyebrows on my face.
I explain how I was invited to speak at a large church in Amarillo and after that I will travel out of state.
She comes to my rescue and begins my eyebrow drawing lesson. She also makes me promise that
I will no longer visit this technician.

So it is Sunday morning and I have to present at Paramount Baptist. 
I begin to worry that someone will notice my eyebrow less face.
I enter the church and I am greeted with undeserved love and kindness.
I am escorted through the front of the stage and seated on the front row.
My face is covered in a light shade of red. I feel like all eyes are on my eyebrows or lack there of.

At the end of service I am introduced and I stand and share my heart.
I still can't shake the thought of the focus being on my eyebrows.
I am greeted and hugged by several people. I think I notice a young woman
tilting her head at my eyebrows.
I try and shake the thought but I can't. My vanity holds on tightly.

After the first service, I am escorted down stairs to meet a class he calls Special Adults.
I walk in and I am speechless. He ushers me to the front of the class.
I stand there motionless. I can not comprehend this atmosphere.
There is joy, love and excitement all in a single breath.
I am ready to sit on the floor and sob.
I tell myself I must refrain.

My escort begins to speak and everyone faces the front.
He tells these beautiful special needs adults of what we do for people in need.
They begin to clap and some begin to stand.
He begins to ask if they would please pray for this effort.
They begin to cheer and clap with such excitement.
I am touched beyond comprehension.

I want to exit because I can no longer hold back my tears. As I am leaving a woman calls
me over and I walk in her direction. She stands and reaches for me with such love such
innocent incomparable love. I hug her tight and she tells me I am pretty. She tells me thank you for helping
people in need. She assures me that she will pray for me.

I make it out to the hall and my escort begins to speak off how this class was started. I tell him
to please excuse me as I begin to sob. I am overwhelmed by such unconditional love.
My vanity is gone and I care of nothing more than coming through for my new friends.
They are helping us with prayer and together we will do away with poverty.

 

 

 

Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful." 

 -- Annette Funicello