I want your pop tarts

 Wednesday, right before Thanksgiving and I am thankful that we are closing at noon. I am expecting an easy day. I have plans with my honey and that is all I can think of. That is until my first family arrives.

 As I enter the lobby,  I am surprised to see little ones present. No noise usually means no children. I smile as I see four little visitors. It doesn't take long to decide that my office is too small  for so many young guests. Together we venture out and begin to hunt down a larger office. We march down the hall with a purpose. We are on a mission, we seek more room. Finally we conquer new territory and the children seem delighted. We are situated and I begin to ask the parents some questions. They are homeless and desperate to get out of this situation they are in. They speak of their troubles and it doesn’t take long before the children catch my undivided attention. Eventually I stop listening to the parents, as I notice  no words have come from these children. I pay close attention as one of the little girls approaches me. She gives me a hug and I tenderly hug her back. I have a document in front of me and I hand her a highlighter so she can draw. She gently looks up at me and all I see is her innocence. My heart instantly hears her without her saying a word.  I ask her if she is hungry. She replies, “Yes”. Oh such pain as my heart listens to this uncomfortable truth. She acts like this is normal to her. Hunger seems to be normal to this six year old baby. 

This is not normal to me, this will never be normal to me. It should never be normal for any child to be hungry. I cry inside and I want to just take them home with me. I want to take them to Chick-fil-A and feed them everything off of the menu. I want to let them play and be children. I want to remove them from this uncomfortable truth they live in. I want  more for them. I want more than this normal they currently live in. This should not be normal for anyone.

 The little boy wanders towards me and he reaches for my leg.  I sit again paralyzed with pain for these babies. I have four children too and I can’t imagine them hungry. If you know me you know I eat five times a day. Where I am, food is there also. As I now have the attention of all four children, I begin to hand out pop tarts. They are so hungry. I watch and I am witness to those babies taking only two bites to finish their food. What can we do to change this?

 I say give me pop tarts, so I can share them. After all it is my Birthday and all I want is pop tarts. Give pop tarts to Snack Pak 4 Kids, Dyron shares them with many hungry children. The office is now a wreck, crumbs of pop tarts everywhere. They depart with a full belly, at least for now. We begin the clean up and it doesn’t take long before it’s all cleaned up. The only evidence that they were even there is the pain I still feel in my heart.

Ten till closing and we are counting down for the Thanksgiving break. A mother walks in and speaks of her daughter’s abuse, softly she tells her daughters story.  The daughter still to shaken to speak. They have just left the police station where she explained to the police, how she was beaten by her husband. She tells her story; she explains exactly how she was holding her 10 month old baby during this abuse.

She is also hungry. Lucky for us a wonderful Chick-fil-A angel brought us a fully cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I was given strict instruction, to give this meal to a family in need. I believe I followed through on those instructions.

Today all I want is POP TARTS so give me your POP TARTS!

Be a Dreamer

I wake up at 4:00 this morning and as much as I try, I have no luck falling back to sleep. Finally I start to doze off and wouldn’t you know it, it’s time to start the day. I am tired and the last thing I want to do is get out of bed. Not that it matters but I’ll tell you anyway, I feel lousy. Times like this I wish Poverty would catch the flu but it doesn’t it catches people instead.

I sit down at my first meeting, open my lap top and commence to perusal my emails. I sit in this room full of leaders. The topic of the day is Transfer of Wealth; we participate in an exercise where we are asked to dream a little. We are told “assume your community was given 1 million dollars per year forever to use to make your community great”.

For someone to ask me to dream is probably unwise. I am a dreamer and I live in a fantasy, I dream all that my heart affords. One by one they speak up and announce their dreams. Dreams of a revitalized town square, creating places for entertainment and other things that would increase the desire to live in their community.

I say nothing but all I can do is think of my families. I think of my single pregnant student, I dream of food for her empty cupboard. For my mother of one with one on the way, I dream for a roof to shelter her and a place for her to lay her head.  My mother of three, all of them boys, I dream of a safe place for them far from their abuser.  My momma of one, I dream that someday she may see what I see. My heart sees a person of value, integrity and a person that has so much to give. She has so much to offer this world that has been so bad to her. Helping families will make any community great.

I receive this email and my dream begins to disappear.

I’m frustrated! I’ve been trying to find dental assistance for Ann.  She has another major infection.  She went to the ER on Saturday and they gave her an antibiotic.  It is still really swollen and painful.  I encouraged her to go back to the ER because she says it is worse than what it was on Saturday.  She can go to AC and get x-rays and cleaning for only $30, but they don’t have any openings soon.  The very nice receptionist encouraged us to call each day and see if they have any cancellations.  I tried calling another Health Network, but it will cost $127.50 just for the screening, which she can do at AC for just $10 (then $20 for a cleaning later). 

I quickly begin my beggin and here is my response.
Elia,

Dr. D
All is right in my world, once more and hey maybe Poverty did catch the flu today. Poverty is losing his confidence. I think maybe some fear has been established.

 Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.
Harriet Tubman

Lyrics

I want to share some lyrics from a song that truly inspires me. Today as I work on getting caught up on hundreds of emails, I am quickly overwhelmed. I probably should of paced my self because I was soon buried with an abundance of need. For a moment I am of the impression that I can do no more. It doesn't take long before I am sweetly reminded that I am not alone. When things seem overwhelming and things seem impossible, again I am reminded that it is not me but we. Something always happens and the need is always met.


The song goes like this "Surely children weren't made for the streets and fathers were not made to leave". This line makes me want to retreat to the world I live in, where children are wanted and cared for, where fathers are the ones caring and wanting their children. It shouts what I feel "surely this isn't how it should be" and my heart hurts as he sings "Surely nations were not made for war or the broken meant to be ignored". What if we showed value to our broken and our ignored? How much time does that take anyway?  When you have time read my "90 Second Rule" and you will learn how long it takes to impact someone.

I was the lunch speaker to a group of student leaders at AC on friday. As I speak of the families I serve, tears gently flow. It is clear that this message is hitting close to home. It is apparent that some of these students were or are currently living in similar situations. Because they are so young , it completely breaks me as I see their faces and I can not contain my pain. I am not use to speaking to such a young crowd. I will never forget them and although it causes me pain, I am also encouraged. I am encouraged because even though they live in lack, they are here for a lesson on how to "Be the Change". I assure you those brilliant students taught me more than they learned. "And I will live, to carry your compassion to love a world that's broken to be your hands and feet". I am certain that together  they will mend our broken world. I am certain that they will "Make Poverty History".

After I speak , it is routine for the audience to come by and shake my hand. They come with a full heart and they say thank you. I say thank you to them, I say thank you because this is what they do " I will give, with the life that I've been given to go beyond RELIGION to see the world be changed". They remind me that Hope is for everyone and not a select few. Excitement takes over and I begin to think of ways to do more. This is my favorite line, I love the truth in it. I believe it, I believe we are being the change this community needs. I have discovered that regardless of age, money or title, we are all working together.  I am convinced that all people want to do something but sometimes we just can't figure out what needs done.
"Surely life wasn't made to regret and the lost were not made to forget surely faith without action is dead"

halloween, a skunk and Victory

I rush to my car, to avoid being late to my 10:00 meeting. On my drive there I grasp for notes and  sing at the top of my lungs.  I arrive at the local coffee place and park to take one last look at my appearance.  I take a second look and pull the mirror close, close enough that my nose touches it.

This summer my daughter Christian had practice early in the morning. While she ran I put in my own four miles because of that I was sporting a bit of a tan. It is now November 1^st and my tan has subsided. As I take a close look in the mirror I am thinking I should change my makeup color.  Because I was in a rush, I forgot to spread my makeup out evenly. Above my eyebrows a shade of pale skin shows right through and a shadow of darkness covers the lower part of my face. I don’t know that my great grandma would be proud of my tribal paint, as she was full blooded Indian. I probably could have pulled it off yesterday but not today.  Well at least I only went half the morning looking like a half painted clown.

I am driving down the road minding my own business and a skunk heads straight for me. The skunk jumps right in front of my tires. I hit it and he goes splat all across the road. I drive a little further and I am shocked that I cannot smell it. Then all of the sudden, here it comes that awful stench. It begins to creep in little by little and eventually consumes the whole inside of the car.

Much like words when they are spoken, it may take some time but eventually they consume our very being.

My honey and I signed up to help at our church’s fall festival. We signed up for half an hour. Two hours went by and we were still serving. We were lost in the smiles as we handed children candy. We were overwhelmed with the dignity shown to every person. We were taken by the love that was given to the group as a whole. I was humbled with the kind words spoken. I don’t believe I have ever taken part of a community effort quite like this. These people were so dedicated in making sure everyone there felt as if they belonged.  Thousands of people and even if just for 2 hours, we were all family. This is the kind of fairytale I live in, where everyone works together towards one main goal. It was fellowship at its best. Every type of person and every color of person was represented. You couldn't tell who had money and who didn't. Everyone was a volunteer and everyone was a guest. Everyone belonged.

Matthew 25:35-36  for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; 36 I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me;

What will you do ...revised

I worked late last night and I woke up late this morning. I left the house in PJ’s not knowing I would have to stop to refuel. My hair in rare form, well let's just say birds do a better job creating their nest. As I am pumping fuel I am certain that all the awkward looks are well deserved. Back at home I grab something to eat, read a little and then jump in the shower. While in the shower I wash my face with hair conditioner and well I will spare you the details. The way my day began I really have no business dressing myself. Later I notice my chosen attire includes a sweater with only three out of 8 buttons left dangling.  As the day progresses I casually pull the rest of the buttons off. 

What possesses me to get in a car and drive after that, God only knows. On my drive to work, I talk to a momma that is concerned about receiving help for her children. She fears that she will be taking away from a child that might be in more need than her own. I assure her that we have plenty and we will be able to help her children as well as every child that may be in need. Another call chimes in and help for a family with no sewer system is needed. Before I even make it in I receive word from the 20 year old aunt. She is raising her 4 nieces and nephews as well as caring for her ill mother.  She calls to ask for advice on how to juggle all that she is responsible for. I assure her I will do my part, to help her. She so desperately wants to go to school, she understands that is her ticket out. 

I remember I have a banquet I need to get to tonight and I have so much to do before I get there. I wonder if they will notice my button less sweater. My day continues with much more mayhem.

One last family stops by to pick up some necessary items. As she is trying to depart her car will not start. I go in to find a gas can and drive down the street to get some fuel for my friend. We place the fuel in her car and it still will not start. We try to jump start it and it still will not start. It is now 5:30 and it is not looking like I will make it to my 6:00 banquet.

I sit to catch my breath and I begin to think about my last family from yesterday. I've been thinking about them all day,  I can’t stop thinking of that child. I don’t know about you but I’m really sick and tired of losing children to suicide. Yesterday a family calls and requests that I stop by their home. I arrive at their humble home and begin to chat with the parents. They talk about how their child is being bullied on Facebook and through texts. They are concerned and want to know how they can help their son. I speak with the child and he tells me he doesn’t want to go back to school. He tells me he doesn’t understand why he is even on this planet. I am talking to a child with out hope. I don’t quite understand that and I'm thinking I don't want to. My heart hurts and at the same time it is filled with anger. Angry that children have to endure such hurt.

I don't know perhaps its his fault, he should of been born to a family with status, money and education.

I start to think of my day and recall how I was treated. I go to the register at Wal-mart and the cashier that is approaching,  sees me standing there but she keeps walking. She hesitates a little and returns to her register. She does not look at me or even say hello, she acts like she's disgusted with me for standing there. Later in the day I call a place where you can rent furniture and appliances. I am trying to help a family so I ask to speak with the manager. Again I am treated like I don't deserve the time of day.

If I am treated this way being an adult, I can only imagine the treatment this child endures. He doesn't live in the right house, wear the right clothes or belong to the right crowd. He is devalued daily, he is made to feel as if he is deficient. He is impacted by words and just as impacted by no words.

I will do whatever it takes to connect this family to the help they need. I will not shrug it off as something insignificant. I will use words to empower and I will use love to create hope. I will love this child without judgment. I will not allow him to become a statistic.

What will you do to make sure that we don’t lose another child to suicide?

* I went all day with my dress inside out maybe that's why I was treated so rudely.

How to be a friend

I hurriedly work on closing out my day. Happy knowing many families are tasting hope again. It is 5:12 and I suddenly become uneasy, I sense a cloud of nervousness take over. My stomach becomes queasy and I dash to the ladies room and desperately try to keep it together.

As I am reentering my office, I notice my phone lighting up on my desk. I glance at the screen and my 16 year olds quirky picture is gazing back at me. It flashes 5:15 and I answer knowing I will be asked for money or a quick stop at Wal-Mart before I head home. “Hello” I mutter as silly as I can possibly speak.

“Mom I am ok but I just had a car accident “my worst night mare. She begins to cry and I realize I am 27 minutes away, from holding my baby. I dial my honey and frantically explain that he must reach her. With absolutely no assurance, in his voice he agrees. I run out the door and fumble to get to my car. I sit not knowing how to drive. I can’t remember where the key goes and I can’t even remember where I am. I sit with my head in my hands and weep for just a brief moment.

I reach for my phone but I can’t recall how to use it. I snap out of it, if only for a while. I drive what seems like an eternity and finally get half a mile from the wreck. There is a road block and I cannot get through. They are not allowing traffic to go through on either side. I can see all the fire engines and a mound of metal. I slowly begin to lose my mind.

I motion the officer and explain that my daughter is in the accident, after a battle I am waived through. As I get closer I just want to close my eyes, I see my oldest daughter Keila holding my baby girl. I can’t reach them quick enough. Time stands still and I take in every little piece of glass sprayed across the highway. I take in every fiber of metal meshed into the road. I take in every person. I take in what they are wearing. I take in everyone’s hair color and even notice the color of their eyes. I take in every sound, the sound of wheat swaying in the wind. I take in the awful color of flashing lights. I take in the uniforms. I take in the badges and the nods as I pass by. Finally I take in her small frame and the strands of curls that touch her face. I reach for her, I touch her, I caress her face and kiss her sweetly. I take her in and hold her as if I have never held her before.

We head to the hospital and as we reach the entrance. I notice a woman standing in the door way. As we get closer we see it is no ordinary woman. We see it is a friend, today she is our peace giver. She has arrived before us, armed and ready to serve her friends. It isn’t enough that she’s worked all day granting peace to many burdened people.  

I am thankful that our community has discovered, the only way to help when someone is need, is to be a friend.

Friends show their love in times of trouble.
Euripides

Wordless Love

 Friday afternoon and I receive a call from my 16 year old daughter, Christian. Christian and her beau would like a ride to the local pumpkin patch. I smile and agree to play taxi. On my way home I think of the luxury our young people live in. All of them with dreams and ambitions, the only worries are of what to wear and of what to do on the weekends.

 I pick her up at home and travel to her beau’s home to retrieve him. I listen as they chat about their day. The excitement of life is audible through their laughter. I drop them off and smile as I notice the crowds of young people filing in. I look around and see corn mazes, pumpkins, bunnies, goats, food and enough fun for all.

As I leave, my phone rings. I am reminded of a mother of four, her husband is out of work recouping from surgery. They work the land so that others can eat and today struggle to feed their children. I stop by our food pantry and retrieve some food for this family. This pantry is full of food I would eat and feed my family, I am pleased.

Wasn’t it just a few minutes ago that life was but a fairy tale? As children somewhere dream and have vision, children elsewhere suffer and lack the basics.  

I arrive at this farm and horses meet us at the gate. I quickly forget of why I am here and begin to love on these animals. My husband reminds me of our mission. We head up to the house and look for activity. Darkness surrounds us and silence abounds. I walk up the steps and knock on the door. My enthusiasm has not allowed me to take mind of the time. It is 9:30 p.m. and I have no business knocking on anyone’s door.

She answers and I ask for forgiveness. I begin with “I’m sorry it’s so late and I hope you don’t mind that I brought you some food”. She speaks softly “oh you didn’t have to do that”. I explain “I have no desire for you to go the weekend without enough food”.

It isn’t long before a little one appears. He sees me and rushes to my side, his little arms gently wrap around my legs.  I pat his back and squeeze him with all the love I have. My heart is crushed.

I make my exit and in this darkness find my way to my car. I sit silently without motion tears running down my face. My honeys wordless love soothes me. I find comfort in knowing that 4 babies will have full tummies this weekend. I think of all the people that made this possible, I am grateful.

"If you can't feed one hundred people, then why not just one"

-Mother Teresa