When I started this blog over a year ago, I didn't have a specific purpose in mind except to do a little writing and maybe meet a few people along the way. Recently, I have felt as though I am being 'prodded' to take my blog in a different direction and use it as a platform to help those in need. Honestly, I feel rather un-knowledgable in the area of how to specifically go about this and ill-equipped when it comes to ministering to those in need. And while I have big doubts about my own abilities in starting something like this, I know that the circumstances surrounding the initial idea of The Hope Road Trip and the people that have been put in front of me who need help are not of my own doing. I don't know how this whole thing will unfold or how long it will take, but in the meantime, I am going to follow my heart on this, obey what I believe God is asking me to do, follow where He leads and learn from the large doses of humility that it appears are much needed in my life.
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After arriving at work the other morning, I opened up my email to find a message that had been forwarded to all of the staff. It was from the friend of a local family who have been a part of this community for many, many years and are in need of financial help for a severe illness their daughter is dealing with. The greeting read,
"Hi to all... This is a request for help."
Sherm and Janice Hess are friends of ours who retired after teaching many years in La Pine. Their son Steve and his wife Tammy graduated from Bend High. Steve and Tammy's daughter Keshia Cramer (husband Aaron) is being treated at Sacred Heart in Springfield, where she's been in ICU since July 5. A U of O student, Keshia was pregnant, contracted Swine Flu, and then developed severe pneumonia. Keshia is now a mother--though she doesn't know that yet--to baby girl Presley, who was about two pounds when delivered. Both are making progress although I'm sure you recognize the journey is difficult--and costly. Your donations, as well as your positive thoughts and prayers, are appreciated.
As of yesterday, the update on Keshia was:
It has been a blessing to finally have Keshia back! She was able to talk yesterday for the first time! No one can even explain how good it was to hear her voice. It had been over a month since the last time we had heard her talk! She is still on the vent when she needs to rest, but when the mask is put on over the trach; that is when she is able to talk. Her voice is still scratchy and she gets pretty tired from talking easily. She is working so hard with physical therapy and doing a great job! Hopefully today at six she will meet Presley for the first time! We are all just waiting for that time to come now! Keshia still has a lot of work ahead of her, but she can't wait to get started! Thank you for all the prayers and great thoughts!!
While Keshia is on the road to recovery, it is a long one and will continue at great expense. The exciting news is that after a month, she is finally going to meet her little baby girl who is a huge blessing amidst the incredible trial this family has been facing.
If you would like to make a donation or send a word of encouragement to the family, please contact me at buzzbyannies@gmail.com so that I can share with you how to do so.
If you would like to visit the website that has been set up for Keshia and Presley, you can do so here. It does require you to log in, but I'm sure the family will appreciate any words of encouragement you may want to leave. And of course, your prayers are greatly appreciated.
Showing posts with label The Hope Road Trip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Hope Road Trip. Show all posts
Monday, August 10, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
A Girl Rejected: The Hope Road Trip Part 1
Most days, the young girl sat alone at the edge of the grassy field. On occasion, some of the girls would allow her into their small circles of friends during the lunch recess, but only until the bell rang, summoning them to their afternoon classes. She knew she didn't really fit in anywhere, but desperate for friendship, she was willing to take what she could get.
Class was her safe haven. A refuge from the halls where other girls drifted to their friends lockers to catch up between classes, gossip and share the notes they received from 'that' boy. When the bell rang, she rushed to her locker to exchange the math book for her social studies book, and then slammed the locker door nearly running to the next class.
Lunch was even worse. Finding a table with room next to someone who was a remote acquaintance was all she could focus on. And then the dreaded lunch recess. Losers sat by themselves. And she knew she was one.
As long as she could remember, she was the chubby kid that others teased and poked fun of. And it was an extremely deep wound that she kept well hidden.
It was about this time that she befriended a few girls in her youth group that attended the same school as her. And they were in with the popular girls. Slowly, she began stopping by their lockers to chat, sat at the next-table-over from them at lunch and even attended a few of their birthday parties. But lunch recess was still off limits. You see, nobody got to hang out with the popular girls at recess unless they invited you in. And man, did she want to be invited.
The day came when one of the girls invited her to hang out with them at recess. She was excited and nervous but after lunch, walked out to the group of girls and joined in on the games, laughter and talk. It was one of the best school days ever.
That night at youth group, one of the girls took her aside and said, "Um, some of the girls were talking and they just said that you don't really fit in right now. But that maybe if you lost some weight you could hang out with us."
********************************************************************
Last weekend, Jon and I spent the evening with a couple who are close friends of ours. In fact, one of them, I have known as far back as I can remember - we grew up together. We were talking about childhood wounds and I shared this story with them.
Wounds come in different forms. Teasing, abuse, a harsh word spoken out of anger by a parent, an insult, gossip, and the list goes on. For me, it was rejection. And the rejection I felt at that moment, coupled with the rejection of every other year spent in school would dictate how my life would play out for many years to come.
Class was her safe haven. A refuge from the halls where other girls drifted to their friends lockers to catch up between classes, gossip and share the notes they received from 'that' boy. When the bell rang, she rushed to her locker to exchange the math book for her social studies book, and then slammed the locker door nearly running to the next class.
Lunch was even worse. Finding a table with room next to someone who was a remote acquaintance was all she could focus on. And then the dreaded lunch recess. Losers sat by themselves. And she knew she was one.
As long as she could remember, she was the chubby kid that others teased and poked fun of. And it was an extremely deep wound that she kept well hidden.
It was about this time that she befriended a few girls in her youth group that attended the same school as her. And they were in with the popular girls. Slowly, she began stopping by their lockers to chat, sat at the next-table-over from them at lunch and even attended a few of their birthday parties. But lunch recess was still off limits. You see, nobody got to hang out with the popular girls at recess unless they invited you in. And man, did she want to be invited.
The day came when one of the girls invited her to hang out with them at recess. She was excited and nervous but after lunch, walked out to the group of girls and joined in on the games, laughter and talk. It was one of the best school days ever.
That night at youth group, one of the girls took her aside and said, "Um, some of the girls were talking and they just said that you don't really fit in right now. But that maybe if you lost some weight you could hang out with us."
********************************************************************
Last weekend, Jon and I spent the evening with a couple who are close friends of ours. In fact, one of them, I have known as far back as I can remember - we grew up together. We were talking about childhood wounds and I shared this story with them.
Wounds come in different forms. Teasing, abuse, a harsh word spoken out of anger by a parent, an insult, gossip, and the list goes on. For me, it was rejection. And the rejection I felt at that moment, coupled with the rejection of every other year spent in school would dictate how my life would play out for many years to come.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A Man In Search Of Hope: The Hope Road Trip Part 2
I'm not sure what I expected would happen after sharing my encounter with Jimmy* (not his real name) last Thursday, but it certainly wasn't what happened the following morning. In case you haven't read about how I met Jimmy I encourage you to read Part One.
Friday morning, prior to work, I posted a link on my Facebook of the blog post that told about my encounter with Jimmy. Honestly, I was somewhat hesitant to do so because I tend to avoid 'promoting' my blog on Facebook. But the 'prompting' I felt outweighed the hesitancy and up went the link.
Within an hour of posting the link, my phone rang and it was my brother.
"Scotty. What's up?"
"Annie. What are you doing?"
"Oh, you know. Living the dream. You?"
"I'm heading to work."
"Guess you're living the dream to huh?"
"You know it. (chuckling) I read your Facebook this morning. The story about the guy that came into your work yesterday."
"Oh, yeah. That kind of bummed me out."
"You have his name and number right?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Well, I know a gal that runs an outreach program and I'm going to send her an email about this guy. I'll include the link to your post. I think she can maybe help him out."
"Wow. That would be cool."
"Yeah. I'll call you when I hear from her."
Two hours later, my phone rang again.
"Scotty."
"Annie, I talked to my friend and she wants this guy's name and number. She said she thinks she can help him. She knows of some programs for people with disabilities and may be able to put him to work doing some things for her outreach program."
"Seriously? That is awesome."
I gave my brother Jimmy's information and asked him to keep me posted if he heard anything else from his friend.
Saturday, my brother called me back to say that his friend had contacted Jimmy and was going to have him come out and do some volunteer work for her. Because she runs a non-profit, she can't afford to pay him, but she is going to contact some other organizations on Jimmy's behalf in hopes of finding employment for him.
I'm excited for Jimmy and am very thankful for people who are willing to help a fellow man. Perhaps Jimmy will find the job he so desperately desires and I'd like to believe that there is a glimmer of hope in Jimmy's eyes now.
All because someone will, indeed, give him a chance.
Friday morning, prior to work, I posted a link on my Facebook of the blog post that told about my encounter with Jimmy. Honestly, I was somewhat hesitant to do so because I tend to avoid 'promoting' my blog on Facebook. But the 'prompting' I felt outweighed the hesitancy and up went the link.
Within an hour of posting the link, my phone rang and it was my brother.
"Scotty. What's up?"
"Annie. What are you doing?"
"Oh, you know. Living the dream. You?"
"I'm heading to work."
"Guess you're living the dream to huh?"
"You know it. (chuckling) I read your Facebook this morning. The story about the guy that came into your work yesterday."
"Oh, yeah. That kind of bummed me out."
"You have his name and number right?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Well, I know a gal that runs an outreach program and I'm going to send her an email about this guy. I'll include the link to your post. I think she can maybe help him out."
"Wow. That would be cool."
"Yeah. I'll call you when I hear from her."
Two hours later, my phone rang again.
"Scotty."
"Annie, I talked to my friend and she wants this guy's name and number. She said she thinks she can help him. She knows of some programs for people with disabilities and may be able to put him to work doing some things for her outreach program."
"Seriously? That is awesome."
I gave my brother Jimmy's information and asked him to keep me posted if he heard anything else from his friend.
Saturday, my brother called me back to say that his friend had contacted Jimmy and was going to have him come out and do some volunteer work for her. Because she runs a non-profit, she can't afford to pay him, but she is going to contact some other organizations on Jimmy's behalf in hopes of finding employment for him.
I'm excited for Jimmy and am very thankful for people who are willing to help a fellow man. Perhaps Jimmy will find the job he so desperately desires and I'd like to believe that there is a glimmer of hope in Jimmy's eyes now.
All because someone will, indeed, give him a chance.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A Man In Search Of Hope: The Hope Road Trip Part 1
My office lies somewhat off of the beaten path. So, unless someone has business with my particular department, I don't see many visitors throughout my work day.
Today, as I was working at my desk, I noticed a man pull up on his bike. I vaguely recognized him and thought maybe he was one of our substitute workers bringing in a time sheet.
As he walked into the reception area, he looked at me through my office window and asked if the boss was in. I immediately knew he was not an employee but the face...where did I know him from?
I got up from my desk and walked out of my office to see how I could help this man. As we began speaking, I knew right away that this man had endured some things. You see, not only was his speech slow, deliberate and difficult, but I looked into his eyes. I think you can tell a lot by a persons eyes and what I saw was hopeless desperation.
He began to tell me that he was looking for work and even though he receives disability because of an accident a few years ago, he just wanted someone to give him a chance.
"Ma'am, I..I...I'm a h..hard worker. I c..c..can wash windows, and..and..push a broom. I did janitor...janitor...janitor work. I...(closing his eyes)...made mistakes. But I want to prove myself. I will volunteer. F..f...or a year. Please."
This is how the conversation went for several minutes. This man told me many times he had made mistakes but that he wanted to prove himself. He stumbled over his words, wiped the spit from his mouth and a few times closed his eyes as if willing the thoughts to come, and said, "what's the word I'm looking for..."
It finally dawned on me where I new this man from. Church. And at this point in the conversation, the reality hit me that most people would have judged this person to be mentally unstable or even crazy. But that isn't how I saw him.
He mentioned an accident and his actions were like those of a stroke victim. This man isn't crazy, he is desperate. And falling into hopelessness.
As we talked further, I encouraged him to talk to our Human Resources department.
"I...I...I've d..done that. They..they, w...won't talk to me."
"P..Please, can you t..t..talk to your boss. I..I..I will work hard. I c..c..can do lots of things."
I realized that sending this man elsewhere was not what he wanted. What he wanted was to know that I was going to talk to my 'boss' and put in a good word for him.
He then asked me if he could give me his name and number and would I please, just talk to my boss and put in a good word for him. As I mulled over what to say next, I looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes. I will talk to my boss."
A glimmer of hope crossed his face, and he asked if he could give me his name and telephone number in case we would be willing to hire him to work for us. As I handed him some paper and a pen my heart felt heavy because the reality of the situation was that his hope was very, very temporary because most likely we could do nothing to help him.
Tomorrow, I will talk to my boss because I gave the man my word. What started out as hopelessness and turned into a glimmer of hope will end in one more frustration and perhaps add another notch of desperation to a man who just wants someone to give him a chance.
It seemed to take some time for him to write his name and number on the paper I had given him. As he handed me the paper, he smiled and said, "I'll work hard." I returned the smileand said, "I believe you."
He said 'thank you,' and turned to leave. As I watched him walk out the door I looked down at the paper.
Written below his name were the words,"Please give me a chance."
Today, as I was working at my desk, I noticed a man pull up on his bike. I vaguely recognized him and thought maybe he was one of our substitute workers bringing in a time sheet.
As he walked into the reception area, he looked at me through my office window and asked if the boss was in. I immediately knew he was not an employee but the face...where did I know him from?
I got up from my desk and walked out of my office to see how I could help this man. As we began speaking, I knew right away that this man had endured some things. You see, not only was his speech slow, deliberate and difficult, but I looked into his eyes. I think you can tell a lot by a persons eyes and what I saw was hopeless desperation.
He began to tell me that he was looking for work and even though he receives disability because of an accident a few years ago, he just wanted someone to give him a chance.
"Ma'am, I..I...I'm a h..hard worker. I c..c..can wash windows, and..and..push a broom. I did janitor...janitor...janitor work. I...(closing his eyes)...made mistakes. But I want to prove myself. I will volunteer. F..f...or a year. Please."
This is how the conversation went for several minutes. This man told me many times he had made mistakes but that he wanted to prove himself. He stumbled over his words, wiped the spit from his mouth and a few times closed his eyes as if willing the thoughts to come, and said, "what's the word I'm looking for..."
It finally dawned on me where I new this man from. Church. And at this point in the conversation, the reality hit me that most people would have judged this person to be mentally unstable or even crazy. But that isn't how I saw him.
He mentioned an accident and his actions were like those of a stroke victim. This man isn't crazy, he is desperate. And falling into hopelessness.
As we talked further, I encouraged him to talk to our Human Resources department.
"I...I...I've d..done that. They..they, w...won't talk to me."
"P..Please, can you t..t..talk to your boss. I..I..I will work hard. I c..c..can do lots of things."
I realized that sending this man elsewhere was not what he wanted. What he wanted was to know that I was going to talk to my 'boss' and put in a good word for him.
He then asked me if he could give me his name and number and would I please, just talk to my boss and put in a good word for him. As I mulled over what to say next, I looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes. I will talk to my boss."
A glimmer of hope crossed his face, and he asked if he could give me his name and telephone number in case we would be willing to hire him to work for us. As I handed him some paper and a pen my heart felt heavy because the reality of the situation was that his hope was very, very temporary because most likely we could do nothing to help him.
Tomorrow, I will talk to my boss because I gave the man my word. What started out as hopelessness and turned into a glimmer of hope will end in one more frustration and perhaps add another notch of desperation to a man who just wants someone to give him a chance.
It seemed to take some time for him to write his name and number on the paper I had given him. As he handed me the paper, he smiled and said, "I'll work hard." I returned the smileand said, "I believe you."
He said 'thank you,' and turned to leave. As I watched him walk out the door I looked down at the paper.
Written below his name were the words,"Please give me a chance."
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