Guilt? Living in a Van - CFI/Redwall Live Event

Oh, eek. I feel a teensy bit of guilt. Leading up to this Community First Initiative/Redwall Live event, in talking with people I know, I mentioned - well, more than mentioned - that it would be funny if the weather turned cold and snowy. I wanted Darren to feel a little pain. I guess my mercy heart went MIA. Careful what you wish for! Here we are, day one of this fundraising event, and we're looking at plummeting temperatures, expected to be in the teens by tonight, with tropical storm winds between 40-60 mph. Sorry, Daniel - I mean guys.

My boss Darren Heil (president and founder of CFI) and Daniel Herndon (owner of Redwall Live) will be camping out in a 1970s van under a billboard until they reach a goal of $25,000. Why? To jumpstart a couple of the mentoring programs CFI will be starting in January, as well as programs already in place. CFI offers these programs to schools at no cost, depending on grants, donations, and fundraisers.

Darren and Daniel will be tweeting this event and webcasting live 24/7. Take time to tune in. On Twitter: @forkout, @cfiinc. Blog: http://www.redwalllive.com/. On Facebook: check out the Fork Out page, also the Community First Initiative group.
To learn more about CFI's not-for-profit organization, check out our website at www.go-cfi.org

The Ringing of the Bells Part 2

“While women weep, as they do now, I'll fight; while little children go hungry, as they do now, I'll fight; while men go to prison, in and out, in and out, as they do now, I'll fight; while there is a drunkard left, while there is a poor lost girl upon the streets, while there remains one dark soul without the light of God, I'll fight-I'll fight to the very end!” -General William Booth, Founder of The Salvation Army

If you read my last blog, you already know how impressed I am with The Salvation Army soldiers. I had the privilege of chatting with Brent and hearing some of his story. He’s an inspiring guy.

Brent lives in Indianapolis and has been working for The Salvation Army for three years, two of which have been spent ringing the bell in front of my grocery.

This has been a tough year for Brent. He was laid off from his other job, and his unemployment is running out this month. He lost his apartment. Brent is a recovering alcoholic, and a job like this gives him hope and a positive outlook on life. It helps him to stay sober, in good spirits, and to keep his head up during hard times.

What gives him the heart for this job is when he was growing up, his family needed services like The Salvation Army provides. That motivates him to help others in need.

He feels this job isn’t for everybody but he’s capable. They work six days a week, eight to nine hours a day, and on the day after Thanksgiving they work a 12-hour shift. Can you imagine, thinking of the weather we experience here in Indiana - rain, sleet, snow, the below-freezing temps - standing out there hour after hour, the majority of the time without someone to pass the time?

And referring back to my previous blog, not all passersby respond in a cordial way. I asked him how he feels when people dodge him or don’t acknowledge him. He said he can’t make people respond, but he can pray for them.

Now Brent is no saint – we all have our moments. Sometimes he’s upset when he’s not acknowledged after he extends a smile and holiday greeting, and he really tries not to get mad. To paraphrase, he said you reap what you sow. But he’s quick to say it’s a God thing, and you can just pray for people and hope they would be less inconsiderate. If you can’t drop money in the kettle, that’s one thing, but a little holiday cheer in return goes a long way – human kindness.

I’ll close with this: Brent said this job inspires him to do well and to go down the right path, to put a smile on his face, and he knows “God takes care of the rest, especially for me.” Amen.

The Ringing of the Bells Part 1

It’s that time of year again. The decorations are going up. The Christmas music is playing. I’m a bit of a Scrooge about Christmas music. The radio stations that start playing it the day of Thanksgiving, or even earlier this year, for me it just gets old and stale. I know, I know, turn the station. I also am burned out on all of the old Christmas movies, but I quite enjoy Elf and Love Actually – how’s that for some new Christmas classics! And I’m not much of a shopper. I love spending time with my family on Black Friday morning, but I ride on their coattails, socializing with them while using their expertise on bargain shopping.

One of the things I do love leading up to the Christmas holiday is the ringing of the bells – that’s right, it’s Salvation Army time. And in particular, outside of my local grocery store are two guys who are the epitome of the Christmas spirit, showing the love of Jesus every time I walk in and out of that store. And I don’t often carry cash on me, so even when I don’t donate, they still treat me with a whole lot of kindness.

I’ve studied these guys (and not in a stalker kind of way!) to see how they react to different customers coming in and out of the store, customers I would describe as the dodgers, the cordials, the suddenly unawares, and the glancers. I've seen the soliders react to each type of customer in the same way: they smile and give hearty holiday wishes. It just blows me away. This is my interpretation of how Jesus calls us to be like in the Bible. They are showing the face of Jesus.

I took the opportunity to interview one of them which I’ll share with you in my next blog. I hope you’ll take the opportunity to read his inspiring story.

The New Girl

So there’s a new girl in town named Shelley. Shelley was born in Oregon but moved at an early age and spent the majority of her life in Arizona. I haven’t been there (or the southwest for that matter) myself – it’s on my list – but from what I’ve gathered, while the desert does hold its own unique beauty, there is not much in the way of color or change of seasons. Oh, and the heat, I’ve heard her mention the heat.

Although I don’t know Shelley all that well yet, she is my Facebook friend. I’ve been noticing her status updates, especially over the last month. The reason I bring this up, I’m from the Midwest. I’ve had the opportunity to do some traveling and I always marvel at how stunning nature is at the different locations I’ve visited.

The last time my family came home from a trip, I mentioned to my husband that we need to find something beautiful about Indiana (aside from the people – I love my peeps) that we’re just missing because we’re too familiar with the scenery. Of course, he scoffed. He’s a lifelong resident of Indiana. He’d move to Florida in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for his family living here.

Back to Shelley’s updates. She seems enthralled with Indiana’s weather. For example, we had rainy days; she loved them. Last weekend we had frost. Her post? “We are so excited to wake up to the first frost! It sparkles!” She took lots of pictures of trees and bushes changing colors, commenting she’s soaking it all in. And get this, her friends were excited right along with her. I’m assuming these friends are also from Arizona.

I enjoy the changing colors, but I’ve been paying more attention this year.
Shelley’s opening my eyes to that something beautiful in nature I’ve been craving here in Indiana. I hope her enthusiasm for that first snow will get me through the icy temps and slush that inevitably follows. Shelley, will you invite me to go sledding?

Memories of a Mentor

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~Maya Angelou

Do you remember two adults, excluding your parents, who made an impact on your life as a young person, positive or negative? I participated in a mentor training class over the weekend and that was a question the trainer asked. I remember one of each.

Let’s get the negative out of the way first. My high school guidance counselor was reviewing some test results and told me I was not college material. I left his office feeling stunned, later angry, and still later wanting to prove him wrong. So even though the guy was a jerk, it pushed me harder to succeed.

Now for the positive, Mrs. Sepich, my typing/shorthand teacher. When I first met her, she seemed a bit grouchy and intimidating. From what I remember, her mouth was set in a frequent frown, and her classes were run in a no-nonsense style. This is my perception - I could be wrong on that frown memory - because as I look through my yearbook, I see a beautiful smile. But I vividly remember I was going to mind my Ps and Qs. Thankfully I loved typing and shorthand classes so no trouble was coming out of me.

She wasn’t a grandmotherly/soft-spoken type of mentor. Being on the receiving end of a smile made me feel I had achieved success. When she gave me assignments from the school office, like typing up the rosters for the basketball home games, it made me feel competent and trusted. Getting involved in a regional shorthand/typing competition at her prompting helped me build confidence in my skills.

Mrs. S helped me by submitting my name for a scholarship, as well as helped me get a job at the courthouse in the city where I would be taking my classes. When I decided not to continue my education (I had this new job after all), the next time we met, she urged me to stay in school. When I traded in my goal of becoming a legal secretary for a court reporter, again, the smile. Her support instilled that I-can-do-anything-I-put-my-mind-to feeling.


I had a successful 20-year career as a court reporter. Now I’m moving on to try new ventures. As I write this, I realize 25-ish years later she still impacts my life. Thanks, Mrs. S.

It Takes a Neighborhood

The neighborhood we lived in until I was seven felt like its own little world. I remember playing well with my brothers, making mud pies, smuggling sugar snap peas from a neighbor’s garden, lying on the ground and trying to decipher the shapes of puffy white clouds. I learned to ride a bike in that neighborhood, as well as ride with no hands. I was quite the showoff, riding up and down the street.

I changed my dress multiple times a day, but I did not care for hairbrushes and face washing. Early one morning I could not find a clean pair of underwear, but I still chose to wear a dress. I remember shifting from one fanny cheek to the other while sitting on our frigid cement front stoop, waiting for my friend to come out and play.

The coolest kid on the block, whose first name was Kirby, came complete with leather jacket and mini-bike, and I pondered whether he was related to the Kirby name on my mom’s vacuum cleaner. I was thrilled when he came to my older brother’s pirate-themed birthday party and oh how I hoped he would notice me.

The woods behind our house was thick with sections of trees and berry bushes and was our place for adventure. We would run straight to the fort with a friend’s older sibling’s Mad magazine or comic book, clueless on what we were reading. There would be dares to try an unknown potentially poisonous berry. The real thrill was keeping an ear out for bears – an unsubstantiated rumor.

We played until dark or until we couldn’t take any more mosquito bites. My habit was scratching until they were oozing, and the remedy was cotton balls soaked in alcohol held on by Band-aids. After the initial urge-to-scream reaction, the bites quickly stopped itching and healed. I haven’t found a better remedy yet – although my son has no interest in trying this method.

These memories conjure up feelings of safety, happiness, high self-esteem, being nurtured, and I’m not talking just from my parents. Neighbors were an integral part. Neighbors looked out for each other. If a family had to rush one of their children to the hospital for an emergency, the siblings went to a neighbor’s house for the night. If a kid was down the road causing some trouble, an adult knew who the culprit was and yelled out, “I’m calling your mother.” No police, just calling the parent.

Is it any more dangerous for children now than it was then? I don’t know. We have more media coverage and awareness. But what I have noticed and have been guilty of is there isn’t a lot of neighborhood support, neighbors knowing neighbors. The neighbors down at the end of my street wouldn’t recognize my kid in a lineup, nor would I know theirs (no pun intended).

For me, this is a call to balance out my time on the back deck with some time on the front stoop (underwear included) and spend time getting to know these kids. From what I’m learning in the mentor program with which I’m involved, lives are easily touched by interactions with adults. I’m in!

TMI? I Think Not

To paraphrase Rapunzel from the movie Shrek the Third, “Everyone toots, Beauty,” and I’m going there with my blog today.

As some of you know, I was a court reporter for many years. I was setting up my equipment for a deposition one morning. There were two men in the room, an attorney and a witness. It was quiet except for the rustle of setting up my equipment. My case was on the floor, so I would bend down to get an accessory, stand back up, down and up.

Well, on one of the rotations it squeaked out - yes, I’ll say it, I farted. Oh how I was mortified. In my quick thinking I contemplated my options: Could I blame it on the squeaky chair next to me or maybe that I kicked my case? No. I saw they had looked up, and I decided to acknowledge my shame. I said it. “Excuse me.” I turned beet red, flaming red. My armpits immediately began to perspire. I still turn red to this day.

I tend to take myself a bit too seriously, take things too personally. Let me tell you, this event inspired my journey to lighten up, to try to laugh at myself more. If I don’t get the joke, I’m going to tell you I don’t get the joke. (Eeek, the “ohhh” moment years later when I figured out “what’s black and white and red/read all over.) The joke’s on me, baby. Bring it.