Last year we raised $1,200 USD. It was a tremendous feeling to be able to give back to so many people who are less fortunate than we are. I remember that day very well, Yuki and I woke up early and ran off to the stores purchasing whatever food, clothes and clothing we could to drop off to the South Jersey Foodbank. We felt proud as we unloaded the car, taking bag after bag of our efforts into the building to be weighed on the scale.
It really did feel amazing to accomplish so much in the little time frame we had. I couldn't believe that our efforts would pay off in the way they did, bringing some much needed supplies to a community of people that were down on their luck. The director of the food bank came out, strung a banner across our donations and Yuki and I felt we did our job well. We were even able to leave a $300 check with the leftover donations.
Last night before bed, I checked our total donations that neared $900 USD, I went to sleep feeling excited to do my first ever REAL life interview for the Milk N Kookies show. I never did an interview before where I got to look someone in the eye. I got there early and sat in the car to finish up my cup of coffee and feeling confident, I grabbed my laptop, desktop microphone and prepared to meet with this years recipient of the SL Kids for RL Kids Fundraiser- The Church of God, a local church that runs a food pantry feeding 3,000 families a month. So how did I end up walking in smiling and leave feeling totally helpless, in tears and overwhelmed with emotions? Read on.
Despite getting there early, the place was bustling with activity as volunteers prepared to pack up food for families who would be arriving at noon. I introduced myself and enjoyed a cup of coffee while they lined up grocery bags and talked about how many they would need for the day.
(These pics are taken directly outside of the church before I went inside)
This picture is shows Flossy Siegal (dressed in white) along with volunteers as they work for the day. I noticed that people start coming an hour before the scheduled food pickup time to wait in line for groceries for the week. Out of respect, I did not photograph anyone who was there to pick up food. Those you see in the pictures are volunteers.
She gave me a quick tour of the church, which was very similar to a rancher style house, except few the pews, altar and the food storage area that held very basic staples like powdered milk, canned fruit and vegetables and boxes of dried pasta.
Wow look at all that food she can give out!
She asked me if I would mind giving her a hand packing up some grocery bags and moving canned goods from the pantry into the front room which I was happy to do. Just being there and watching the lines of dozens and dozens of families leave with groceries and observing how grateful they were was an immensely positive experience. I was still feeling good, smiling and breaking a sweat lugging heavy canned goods. I was nearly bursting with pride, feeling like somehow I was apart of something greater. I was on top of the world until a single Spanish mother and her 8 year son Hunter entered my life.
The shrill sound of Hunter entering the Church broke my concentration and I nearly dropped a can of peaches on my foot. When I spun around to see who was making such a fuss, I caught a glimpse of a wide eyed boy about 8 years old wearing a green hoodie and running up and down the isles of the pew asking everyone a million questions.
"Can I climb on the chairs? Can I carry the box to the car mom? I am real strong!"
I stopped working for a moment and went out to the front room to watch this boy with boundless energy making his very presence known to everyone there. His energy brought smiles to everyone in the room. He was not only charming but demanded to be the center of attention!
He approached a volunteer and asked if they had a sammich for him like he had received last week on the families visit. As the man hobbled off to the kitchen, hunter exclaimed, "I like cheese!" When he got his sammich he sat quietly for a change, nibbling carefully at the corners before settling to eat in a circle. His mother made a comment to him in Spanish and I watched him sigh before sticking half of the eaten sammich into the front pockets of his green hoodie. I didn't need to understand the words she speak, the context was quite clear "Save some of that for later"
I felt my heart break inside my chest. Just a moment before I was filled with happiness watching a childhood unfold before me and now the awful reality of life struck me hard and knocked me back into the reality of the situation. The only thing Hunter ate today was half of that sandwich and I knew he badly wanted to finish it, I could see with my own eyes the hunger inside of his. I walked away than, unable to contain what I just witnessed with my own eyes. I couldn't come back out until after I heard Hunter and his mother leave, nothing inside of me could summon the strength to look him in the eyes again. I felt ashamed of my own full tummy.
People came and went that afternoon, I saw many kids and families, it wasn't long until those full shelves became bare and the families stopped coming.
As things slowed down I began talking to some of the volunteers who shared with me sad stories of families who lost everything in life and depend on this food pantry to make ends meet. "Without us and our food donations" She said. "These people would go to bed hungry". As I digested those thoughts further, she explained to me that mothers and fathers often go days between eating so that the children have enough food for meals. They work as much or as often as they can to provide for their families but the little money they earn is keeping the heat on and and a roof over their heads. I needed some air and suggested they come outside for a fast group picture.
They reminded me another group of people would be in shortly for the next roundup of donations and if I wanted to get this interview done we would have to start moving quickly. After the picture we went inside so I could begin testing my sound levels and get setup.
A few minutes passed by and I notices several of the volunteers huddled around a middle aged woman in a ripped denim jacket, they were praying for her and her family, as she would be going into surgery the next morning. Respectfully, I bowed my own head and stopped working and just listened and felt the strength that a group of strangers were bringing into this woman's life. When she left, her eyes were wet with relief and after the doors closed, the volunteers eyes were wet with sympathy for her struggles. I heard them whispering how much they wished they could do more and I silently nodded in agreement as I wiped my eyes, swallowed hard and called the director over for her interview.
The interview, which after editing will probably be under 10 minutes long felt like an incredible painful lifetime. I listened to her stories and answers and looked at her tired, sad expression throughout. I have done well over 30 interviews for the Milk n Kookies show, and while each experience is different this was the only time I have ever stopped an interview because of my own inability to continue, it was humbling because I felt no shame with my lapse of emotional control but rather understanding of the importance of what they do each and every week.
After the interview was over she handed me a list of 833 families consisting of 1,759 adults and 1,473 children.
As proud as I felt when I walked in, I walked out with that list and a giant welt on my heart. These families, these children, all of them in need and all of them reduced to a name on a list. The list is in my hand right now and part of me wonders where is Hunter and his mother? I want so badly to help him, to find his name on the list and run to his front door with a Transformer and a big sandwich with all his favorite things. But it can't be this way, the cruelty of poverty doesn't just lie with those who are hungry, it always breaks the heart of those who strive to help. Because now, with this list I have to pick 10 families or so that will be given a definite Christmas with toys and dinner. I don't want to decide, I don't want to play God. This isn't what I signed up for. I wanted to give some kids a Christmas and feel good about it and now all that echos through my soul is the 823 other families I can't do anything about. I guess that it what it feels like to make a difference, you have to separate yourself somehow. The wounds are too raw for me to deal with right now, those faces of the families are still in the shadows of my memory, their faces too clear for me to wipe away. I do feel angry, I can't pretend that emotion doesn't exist for me because it is there and I am doing my best to admit it because it is easier for those reading this blog post to understand what I do now, to feel what I felt.
We all do what we can in life to help others. Throwing a dollar in a donation bucket, loose coins to help find missing children. We do it thoughtlessly everyday of our lives and yet we all are disconnected from it somehow. We see the cause but not the point, the means but not the end. We are all soldiers marching through the battlefield of life, some us us march on when someone has fallen and some very special people stop and pick up the fallen to carry them home.
Please help Milk N Kookies this year, and give kids like Hunter and his family a Christmas this year.
