Big Day?

Back in August I contacted the hospital to see about volunteering.  Per instructions, I went online, read all the material, completed an application and took a required test.  I heard nothing.  Naturally, I assumed I had been rejected and decided it just wasn’t meant to be.  In fact, I made initial contact with another agency that could use bilingual volunteers.  You know what’s coming, right?

Last week I received a call from the director of volunteers, the one with whom I had originally spoken and who had told me how to initiate the process online.  Was I still interested?  I should have received a call within a week but somehow the computer system had not worked as it should.  In fact, they could not find the test I took.  A tech person should be able to retrieve it, not to worry.  Bottom line, I go today at 1:00 for an interview.

When I first spoke with the woman weeks ago she had asked where I might be interested in helping out.  The Betty H Cameron Women’s and Children’s Hospital.   Why, she wanted to know.  I explained that I wanted to work with children and/or families whose children/babies were there.  I didn’t care if I carried coffee, brought them a blanket, whatever.  I wanted to do that because we had lost our little granddaughter Natalia there and I would know how people might be feeling. 

She immediately wanted to know how long ago this had been.  Four years.  Her surprising response?  If it has only been four years there are going to be things you are not yet ready for.  She went on to say that she had lost a daughter 7 years ago; that people who have not been through that kind of loss do not understand.  Seven years and every day you miss your child; every day you carry on but you are thinking about and missing your child.  She repeated that I might not be ready for the very things with which I wanted to help; that in addition to living it, she had seen it a few times in her position as director of the volunteers.  We would have to see; we would discuss it further at an interview.  I found that was okay with me.  Somehow I found that reassuring.

I do not know if I will be told today if I am accepted, but I am anxious to find out.  At the same time I am afraid to hope.  The nice thing is that my friend Lynette and I are taking Naazneen to the beach tonight to celebrate her birthday.  So, regardless of how it goes, I will have something to look forward to and will be with friends.  That’s always a good thing, right?

A Meaningful August 28th

It never occurred to us until this year!  Maybe that’s because it was a particularly significant anniversary, the 50th.  Fifty years since the peaceful March on Washington of a quarter of a million people.   Maybe it was because some of the fog of the day lifted and we were more aware of what was happening in the world.  I don’t know.

 But we finally realized that Natalia died on the same day, August 28^th, that Martin Luther King gave his “I Have A Dream” speech.  Somehow that was meaningful to us.

I have always loved his speech.  I have loved not only the content, but the eloquence.  In addition to the more famous lines, I love his declaration that he had come to Washington to “cash a check”.  He maintained that when the Declaration of Independence defined life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as the unalienable rights of all men, it was, in essence, a promissory note – a promissory note for these rights, given to all Americans, black as well as whites.   What a powerful analogy!  Particularly when he went on to say that America had defaulted on this note with respect to its citizens of color.  Further on he stated his belief that the bank of justice was not bankrupt.  He was more hopeful than I often feel. 

Interestingly enough, Trista and I came to the realization about the date independently of each other.  While riding to the Zumba class she teaches and I attend, she asked if I were by any chance writing anything about slavery.  Before I could respond she went on to say that she had just realized that Natalia’s date of death corresponded to Martin Luther King’s speech. 

I find it fascinating that she asked about slavery, not Civil Rights.  You’ve guessed, haven’t you?  I was writing something about slavery. 

What follows is just something that came to mind when I was thinking about Martin Luther King’s dream for his children: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”


(Note:  I made aboslutely no attempt at historical accuracy.  I just wrote.)

I have no choice.  Her cruelty is eating at her just like the fleas eat at the field dogs.  Those poor dogs scratch until they have patches where their hair is gone and the flesh underneath becomes a raw, nasty looking sore.  The fleas do not stop.  It is as if they have the ability to think and plan to torment the dogs without end until all of the dogs’ fleshy tissue has been laid completely bare.   

I am no longer able to calm her when she flies into her rages. Her rants do not allow her to hear my voice, my attempt to help her calm herself. Anyone in her presence at the time suffers verbal lashings.  Of course the verbal castigation is nothing for them to withstand.  They have been trained since birth to accept whatever is said to them, without reply.  Unless that is to say “Yes’m or “Yes Sir”.

The beatings are what worry me, as it most certainly does them.  The anger of her soul gives her uncanny strength, not usually found in a woman, much less one as small as she.  She is unfulfilled unless she sees the blood spread of the one being flogged, until the black skin she so despises is covered over with the bright red of fresh blood.  And if that blood oozes from the body of a child, it makes no difference to her.  Her hatred does not see child versus adult.  It does not see male or female.  It does not see culpable versus innocent.  It sees only black.  Sadly she sees nothing of the inner blackness that is her heart.  She sees only the black that is another’s skin.

Until recently they understood there was no hope their children would escape a life sentence in the prison called slavery.  But they did have hope that the children would live; even though they might be sold at auction and would be lost to their parents this side of heaven, they would not have to watch them be randomly maimed and/or killed in their childhood.  It was the loss of this hope that drives me and them.  It was, at first, an unspoken realization, a common bond, a collective goal of saving children’s lives, something that needed no words. 

Thus I began to consider and quietly learn how to try to help some safely reach a northern state where slavery does not exist.  They will take the journey other runaway slaves have traveled.  If they cannot go together as family units, I will find a way to send the children.  I have to.  I just have to.

More accurately, we have to.  I will do this with and for my black male friends with whom I played until about age 12.  Their mothers helped care for me, as much as Mother did.  I grew to love them as I loved her.  I grew to love my play mates as I would have loved the brothers I did not have.  I did not understand when I was told I could no longer be Jim’s friend; I was to consider him my personal slave.  I would forget and do things for myself, or even for both Jim and me.  That would particularly draw her wrath.  I was to remember that I was Jim’s master now!  Did I understand?  I had best not forget again! There was no allowance for my being solicitous on Jim’s behalf.  Perhaps if I had had siblings I might have felt differently.  But Jim was my brother, along with several others our same age, although I was closest to him.  We were a family, much more so than my “real” family, meaning my parents.    

It will be especially difficult because their master, my father, was not known to be an unfair or harsh man. And I believe help is first extended to those whose masters are merciless.  What people do not know is the control some women of the plantations hold over the affairs of the slaves.   And my mother’s society friends never see the heartless woman who is mistress of this plantation.   She is careful to hide her true nature.  (I suppose she does so in the same way Jim and the others have learned to conceal their intellect, their ability to think, to reason, to listen and to learn.  Not that they have found it to be so very challenging.  After all, Mother considers it absolute truth that they are inferior intellectually and therefore fails to look for the possibility that she could be wrong about their abilities.)  Given the opportunity, Jim is only one of many of them who could have been my fellow classmate. Being innately more intellectually gifted than I, he would have been the better student.  Should Mother hear me admit such a thing, there would be no sparing my black family and friends from her brutality.  I sincerely believe that, in her mind, I could more rightly curse God Himself openly than to even think such a thing. 

And poor Mother; would it not be her very undoing to know that it was at the northern university she and Father sent me where I learned there were others who felt as I did.  I was free to not only have my own opinions about my black family/friends, but to give them voice.  I could express my deep hatred and complete lack of understanding of this institution called slavery.  I could denounce my birthright to hold slaves; my right to prosper from their unending labor.    

It was my plan, upon returning home, to begin to work alongside Father, to encourage him to allow the Negro children to attend a school here on the plantation.  I had other grand plans, but Father up and died suddenly, necessitating my immediate and permanent return to the plantation.  It was obvious within the first moments of my homecoming that any good once evident in Mother’s heart was completely gone.  In addition to the underlying need for a feeling of superiority she now had self-pity to add to her self-aggrandizement toolbox, used so skillfully to fulfill her desire to control all matters. 

Therein is my problem.  The widely held opinion is that females are the gentler sex; that they hold in check the callous vindictiveness of males.  But it has been my experience that hatred and evil are not constrained by whether or not one is man or woman.  Rather, very ironically, they are bound only by an open heart!  A heart that is more selfless than selfish.  Such a heart allows no access.  It is safeguarded by a tendency and/or willingness to submit to compassion, to kindness, to benevolence.

The heart of anyone at any point in history can be wholly filled with, and consumed by darkness; the darkness that fights against a spirit of generosity, against caring about and for others, against living life without the presumptions of superiority and special favor bestowed by God.  Should Jim and I, and our other co-conspirators succeed in sheltering the children, in helping them to survive, it will be in spite of such hearts.  And it will be wholly dependent on humble hearts uncluttered by such malice; hearts willingly made vulnerable to hurt on behalf of another.  I pray for enough such hearts, both during this perilous undertaking, and for future generations of children I will not live to see.  I pray for hearts that see slave children in the same light as white children are seen.  Were we to be surprised and find many, I still have to wonder just how long it will be before hearts like Mother’s can be changed.  If ever. 

 

Delete

In July I received one of those “Forward this to x number of friends and good things will come to you” emails.  I hate them and usually simply push “Delete”.  Because this one came from a friend whose situation is so unique that I wanted to do something for her, I read the darn thing.  What was I thinking???

I found this particular “Forward for good things to happen” email particularly disturbing.  I can only assume that others found it acceptable because it has to do with God and praying.  And, after all, it originated with a woman who is, what I guess I would call “prominent”, at church.  (Although I do not know her, most people seem to and I know she is extremely active.)  So it is in a totally different category than all those other “good fortune” emails, right?  Not so much, from my perspective.  But see what you think.   

Hi!

Hope all is well. When you have a moment to yourself, read this, it was difficult for me to decide who I thought would DO this because many people claim to pray, but not everyone does. I hope I chose the right twelve. Please send this back to me. May everyone who receives this message be blessed.

There are 12 months / 12 disciples / 12 tribes of Israel / Jesus' birth celebrated in the 12th month. There is nothing attached. Just send this to twelve others. Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive. There is no cost, just a lot of reward. Make sure you pray, and pray believing God will answer.

May today be all you need it to be. May the peace of God and the freshness of the Holy Spirit rest in your thoughts, rule in your dreams tonight, and conquer all your fears. May God manifest himself today in ways you have never experienced before. May your joys be fulfilled, your dreams be closer, and your prayers be answered. I pray that faith enters a new height for you; I pray that your territory is enlarged. I pray for peace, healing, health, happiness, prosperity, joy, true and undying love for God.

Now, will you send this to 12 people right now, not "I'll do it later".

You will have 12 people praying for you. Remember to send it back to me...... I count as 2, you'll see why.

 

So, now, having perused the email let me share with any reader why I find it offensive.  No where do I see the email’s initiator encourage the addressees to pray for good things for others outside the groups of twelve who might potentially receive the mailing.   Rather, the prayer focuses on the recipients and all that would make their lives so wonderful.  It seems to me that is made abundantly clear when the prayer requests that our territory be enlarged.  I fully realize that “territory be enlarged” is used symbolically and does not just refer to property.  No matter; the prayer is still asking for more; be it more influence, more authority, more control.   Where we are, our position in life, is not enough.  Furthermore, praying for prosperity says what we already have is not enough.  In fact, the very meaning of prosperity goes beyond any improvement in circumstances and/or standing.  It denotes success AND affluence. 

Remember when our children were very small?  They would get one gift, one treat, whatever, and then immediately ask for something more.  I think most parents worked at curbing that “I want more” attitude.  Not only that, but we taught them to say “Thank you”.  We did that so early the little ones couldn’t even pronounce the “th” sound.  Nor could they enunciate the word “you”.  It came out “Tank ooh”.  They learned to express appreciation, without any clue of what exactly that meant.  I can’t help but wonder if God wouldn’t like to see a little gratitude in this prayer along with that request for prosperity. 

Making prosperity a prayer request seems strange to me to begin with, but when it is not sought for others that we do not know, I just don’t understand it.  At the same time we were trying to get our little ones to be polite and express gratitude, we took pains to socialize them so they would learn not be selfish. The result?  As adults, even we “Christian” adults, those of us who espouse the belief that we should love others as well as we love ourselves, all too often live self-absorbed lives.  I offer this emailed prayer as proof. 

How did we get here?  I think there are a number of possible explanations.  Let me just mention one for now, however, the prayer of Jabez.  This Old Testament Biblical character very briefly shows up in the book of I Chronicles.  He asks God to bless him, to give him large tracts of land.  He requests that God personally protect him.  As if that were not enough, he asks to be free of any trouble and pain.  Wow!  Very unfortunately, at the conclusion of his prayer we are told that God gave Jabez what he wanted. 

You know someone got a book out of that, right?  In the preface of The Prayer of Jabez: Breaking Through to the Blessed Life, the author asks “Do you want to be extravagantly blessed by God?...To ask God for the abundant blessings He longs to give you?...” (Emphasis entirely mine).  Millions of copies sold within a relatively very short period of time, of course.   Trying to be fair, all of us would prefer a life without trouble or pain.  Nonetheless, how we Christians claim, on the one hand, that the Old Testament sets the stage for the important part of the story, the New Testament and God’s Son, yet on the other hand, want all we can get, beyond what we need, in direct contradiction to the teachings of Jesus is a position that cannot be defended.  Unlike the prayer Jabez uttered, Jesus’ prayers were selfless.  

And the interesting thing is that Jesus left no doubt, no uncertainty about how to pray.  He told us!  He gave us the format.  We call it the Lord’s Prayer.  Given how we refer to the two prayers, Jabez’ versus the Lord’s Prayer seems to provide a big flashing arrow pointing to which choice to make as our prayer “blueprint”.  At least to me that appears true.  And speaking for myself, I do not understand how “I pray for...prosperity...” is modeled after “Give us this day our daily bread”.  

Let me set aside the fact that I am comparing two prayers for a moment.  I’ll imagine that I am comparing two life viewpoints.  Still I would prefer the philosophy that is “us”, “our” and “daily”.  It appeals to me first of all because it is inclusive.  But it goes so much further.  It indicates complete equality. In asking for our daily bread, it requests the exact opposite of this emailed prayer found in my inbox that July day.  It focuses only on a most basic human, life-sustaining need; nothing more and nothing special for some of us. 

Need I say that I did not respond to the email?  I did what I should have done from the beginning.  For any non-Christians who find this email/prayer disgusting, don’t fret.  I pushed “Delete” for all of you as well as myself.  Okay, so maybe I enthusiastically punched that “Delete” button.  Would you believe I am still waiting to feel bad about that? 

Update On Savings For The Children YTD 2013

Yesterday we sent the check to World Vision for savings from the last couple of months.  YTD, not counting the check written yesterday, our savings and subsequent giving totals $662. 

 We always try to do two things.  First, we try to give to a variety of needs, such as food for US children and families, food for the starving in Africa, medicines needed to save lives, as well as those to prevent disease, net beds for families, clothing, help for children with disabilities, etc.  Yesterday’s check, for example, we designated to be used to provide clothing and school supplies for needy children in the US.  Seemed a good choice for a check being mailed in early September.

Secondly, we attempt to take advantage of any matching grants so as to substantially increase the amount of our donation.  A grant will multiply our $134 check sent yesterday by 10!!  So our small amount will actually make $1,340 available for the children’s needs.  Pretty neat!

Wanting to see what, if any, impact we have made with our little project, I went online to review the history of our contributions.  I am well pleased.

2012    Contributions, $1,141  and that amount multiplied by grants, $6,892

2013    YTD, excluding yesterday’s check, $662 and that amount multiplied by grants, $3,125

So by simply forming the habit of setting aside any savings from sales, senior discounts, etc., we have sent $1,803.  The total impact, due to matching grants, $10,017!   $10,017 with very minimal effort on our part. 

One other factor we always investigate is the financial records of a charity.  For every dollar we send to World Vision, we know that it is allocated as follows. 

§  16 cents is used for administrative costs and fundraising
§  24 cents is devoted to securing corporate donations, large private donations, and government grants (Wouldn’t that just send some people over the edge?!)
§  60 cents goes to directly benefit the children and their families

That percentage would most surely NOT be satisfactory to me if I did not know all the numbers.   For the 24 cents dedicated to obtaining large donations and grants, World Vision receives 70 cents worth of goods, funds, and/or grants.  So, by adding that 70 cents to the 60 cents of our dollar that are specified for direct aid, the dollar we send actually generates $1.30 for children!  Where else could we get a 30% return on a dollar?  I love the fact that we can only get that kind of yield by giving to little ones.  That just seems right to me.   

I wish Natalia were here.  She could keep track with us and be learning a valuable lesson, all at the same time. I would like that. 

Of course I would be getting a world map out and we would study the various countries where some of our money goes.  We would study the foods produced in, or imported into, a country; the foods NOT  made available to the children of poverty.  Maybe we would prepare a simple recipe.  We could learn at least one word of the languages spoken by the different children.  We would learn about the places in our own country where children do not get enough to eat, and certainly lack adequate nutrition.  I know, I know, I would be obnoxious.  (I’d like to say I would try not to be, but ......really?)

Notwithstanding, I would like that and I do wish she were here to share in this project of her grandma and grandpa (her abuelita and abuelito).  But for now, we can endeavor to help see to the physical and educational needs of children.