Elvis liked steak. Maybe you should be like Elvis.

I know, I know. You can't be bought with promises of yummy food. Or can you?

I figure I should use this posting to plug something important...not that every post isn't important. It is. That's not me being arrogant. I'm not saying I'm important. But what I talk about is. The people I meet are. The people I'm trying to get you to help are. And, because of that, the topic of this post is to.

Before I move into it I should tell you to stop judging my use of a connective conjunction at the beginning of that last sentence. You can thank the Anglo-Saxons for my laziness. I already have. Tell them I said, "hey." And go ahead and ignore the misuse of a comma immediately following. In fact, forget that whole sentence.

Moving on...

We're in the final stages of planning our annual banquet. You may have heard about it. I've been talking about it pretty non-stop for a while now. For reference, please read Mother is the name for God and It's all in the paperwork. Basically it's an annual event where we get all of our donors, friends, family, affiliates, partners, and volunteers in one room and celebrate the positive change we've helped affect in the last year. It's also an opportunity for us to make some money.

I'm not going to lie to you. We need it. Unlike a lot of other charities, we run ENTIRELY off of donations alone. No government assistance here, thank you very much. It's kind of incredible when you start looking at expenses. It costs us a little more than $15 per homeless person, per day to make our shelter run. That doesn't include repairs, staff, insurance, campaigns, and a lengthly list of other things that I NEVER would have thought of if I didn't do this stuff every day. It's one well oiled and EXPENSIVE machine we've got goin' on down here. So I have no problems being shameless when I say that we need donations.

It's a big plus that we have gone out of our way to entertain our guests at the banquet. In fact, we are often asked what kind of differences we have made in the lives of those we serve.

This is the part where I tell you to come to the banquet and see for yourself.

We'll not only have rehabilitated graduates from our LifeChange program, we'll have our current students in attendance as well. If that isn't enough, Kito Cinj will be performing. He's one of those incredible success stories we like to share. He went from the streets to our program to a successful, independent, functional life. He's pretty amazing, actually. Nicest guy around! Outstanding singer!

If I haven't convinced you yet I'll leave you with this last card at the poker table:

Cheesecake.

::steps back, feeling accomplished::

Head on over here for details and to register:

Bread Of Life Mission 2011 Annual Banquet

Go ahead. You know you want to.

It's all in the paperwork...

I think I mentioned in one of my first few blog posts that we have our annual banquet coming up and, as the Marketing Director, most of the planning and preparation falls on me. This year's theme is "One Passion, One Vision, One Purpose... Rescue Them."

I wasn't here when they worked that one out but I have to admit, I like it. It's a bit dramatic. But I like it, nonetheless.

A big key to any major event like this is to make sure it has a fluid, consistent theme or "brand." So you have to identify what the "heart" of the event is. For me, in the planning phase, I really gravitated to the "them" part of "Rescue them."

Who is "them?" What do they look like? Where did they come from?

If the purpose of the event is to encourage donors to give, who are they giving to? What's the end point of that dollar amount?

So I decided to interview clients. And by "clients" I mean homeless people. It became important to me that our donors "meet" these people and understand what they have struggled with. I'm not talking about the typical things that everyone can count on their fingers. We ALL know that homeless people struggle with finding food and shelter, getting clean, seeking medical care, being safe, etc... As important as those things are, they're just the surface.

I wanted to show our donors Rebecca, who struggles with bipolar disorder and has attempted suicide more than 10 times. Her mental illness has nearly debilitated her and, because of the state of our healthcare system, there's very little help she can receive to live a functional life.

I wanted to show them David, who's son died tragically in a car accident and it sent him into a downward spiral of addiction to soothe the pain he felt.

And Kenneth who's father beat him so badly that he ran away and has been living on the streets ever since.

They're not just clients or wallflowers. They're not these fixtures you get used to seeing on certain street corners. They're real people who hurt just like you do.

I have 36 transcribed interviews and photos sitting on my desk. That's 36 of the 8,000 "clients" in Seattle. And when I thumb through them my heart breaks because each one of those pieces of paper is someone who is worthy of love and NEEDS our help. Each one of those pieces of paper is a face that smiles at me when I leave every night, or greets me when I arrive, or wishes me a good day.

When I was a little girl and my mother and I would drive through the bad part of town I used to tell her that, when I was all grown up and rich, I would paint every single person's house and make sure they all had a nice place to live.

I wish the ideals that spring from the innocence of adolescence would bleed into adulthood a little more often.

Tom Hanks, you're a smooth talker!

"A WHOLE WEEK SINCE YOU POSTED?!?!? WHERE THE $#!! HAVE YOU BEEN?!?!"

I imagine these are things you have been screaming out of desperation or madness at my week long absence. In my head you shake your fists at the sky and cry like a small, disturbed child.

But, alas, I have no idea who "you" are.

So, moving on...

This last week at work has been challenging. I don't remember the last time I felt this tired, this mentally exhausted, this emotionally worn down. It seems like every single time I start to get my head above water in regards to my outrageous list of deadlines and "to-do" items, something else is added to the pile that needs to get done "right away!" I'm not saying I mind. I LOVE what I do. Am I sleeping at night? Notsomuch. Am I happy? Heck yes, gosh!

Today we had a code red in the building during our staff meeting. It's only the second time that's ever happened while I've been here. Basically it means that there's a thunder down under and the desk staff have barricaded themselves behind the glass and are dispatching for help asap. Today it was two clients in the day shelter who had a disagreement and that disagreement quickly escaladed to the brandishing of cutlery...and I don't mean they were sitting down to a jolly good meal together. Well, they probably did later because it was during the lunch hour. But what I mean was, one guy was about to get shanked for rlz.

So all of the male staff went hauling out of the conference room lightning fast while us girls (there are 3 of us) locked ourselves in the room and felt our hearts palpitate.

Bet that hasn't happened at your office has it?

Everything turned out alright in the end but I can't help but think to myself, "Srsly?!?!? It's only Tuesday."

I feel like Tom Hanks' voice should enter into this part of the movie of my life:

"You have to keep going...because you never know what the tide will bring."

Isn't that the truth!?!?

If only I had a glass of ice to wonder and marvel at.

I am just like you.

Every single day of my life I'm blessed and every single day I'm grateful. But today I feel guilty.

The charity I work for has these little vouchers that we give to the homeless to tell them about our services and let them know they have somewhere to go. I keep them in my purse and have annoyed the crap out of my girlfriends on many occasions by stopping and chatting with a homeless person who's passing us by. One time we were all having cocktails and dinner after work and I carried on a 20 minute conversation with a homeless man through the restaurant window. My girlfriends were not thrilled. It's not that they don't care. It's just that they're not used to it. And I suppose my actions kind of bring it front and center without giving them time to acclimate.

I've said it before and I"ll say it again: you don't have to give them money. You just have to acknowledge them. I acknowledge them by having a conversation, letting them know I care and giving them somewhere to go and get a shower, a bed, and a hot meal. That's what the voucher is all about.

This last Friday I was so lucky to have some girlfriends come in to town to take me to a concert. I love Adele and my friend Piper was sweet enough to get tickets. As we were walking up to the Paramount for the concert we passed a homeless man on the street. While I would normally stop, this time I didn't. Something tugged at my heart as I passed but I didn't stop. I turned and looked behind me. I saw that his sign said he was a veteran. I still didn't stop.

I don't know why I didn't stop. My heart told me to. I KNEW I needed to. But I didn't. I did what everyone else does and that makes me a hypocrite. I feel incredibly guilty. We were rushing to the venue and that took precedence in my mind at that moment. What should have been important was the well being of another person. I failed myself that night.

Our charity designates 6 beds a night to veterans specifically. He could have been in one that night.

I feel like a horrible, selfish person.

And I feel like crying.

So today I'm saying this to you as well as myself (if anyone is reading this): Don't assume you need to do it all to make a difference. But do what you know you are capable of and no less.

Actions speak louder than words.

"You don't have to be a preacher, a teacher, a missionary or an evangelist to have compassion for people."

The charity I work for isn't just a mission or a shelter for the homeless. It's so much more than that. So many shelters only work to maintain the stasis of a community; the ratio of homeless vs. the self sufficient. What are they doing to help the community? What are they doing to help people?

Compassion is a tricky word and a tricky emotion and, in my experience, has often been confused with guilt. We feel guilty that we see someone who's hungry. We feel guilty that we see someone who's dirty. We feel guilty that we have so much and they have nothing. What we're REALLY feeling guilty about is that we are doing NOTHING to change it. We create our own guilt. And our society is drowning in it.

What is it that this charity does to affect change? What makes us so different?

We offer an opportunity for change. Those words are important so let's say them again: an opportunity for change. We have this one year program that focuses on identifying the underlying crisis that is causing the dysfunction. And there is ALWAYS a crisis. Look at the last two posts. These are men who lost their mother and their son. Despair is hard to cope with. Of course they struggled. It makes more sense to counsel the crisis than to counsel the issue of homelessness. So we bring men into a residential, structured setting for a year. They go through a process that works on addictions, emotional instabilities, dysfunction, irresponsibilities, etc. We HELP THEM CHANGE. It culminates at the end of the year with practical work experience in our side business, a catering company that donates 100% of the proceeds to the program. We do this so that, when they get out and get a place (we pay their deposit and first month), they have a resume and can get a job. We work hard to move them through the ENTIRE process.

We are working to not just maintain those less fortunate. We're working to help them change and, in turn, improve the community.

Every Thursday morning we (the staff) attend Chapel with the residents. Today the message was about compassion and holding steadfast in your path and your goal.

Sure, we're a Christian organization. But, what's crazy to me, is that people often lose sight of the bigger picture here. It's incredible how often compassion is connected to faith. "Of course they run a mission. They're Christians."

What an incredibly misleading statement.

"You don't have to be a preacher, a teacher, a missionary, or an evangelist to have compassion for people."

You don't have to be a Christian to help. You don't have to be a saint to help. You don't have to think that, to help, you need to donate huge amounts of time and money. You just need to have compassion. Stop putting your blinders on to avoid the guilt we all feel when we know we can do more and don't. Just DO something. Stop saying you want to or you will and do it now.

It's not hard. It's not time consuming. It's not going to break the bank.

Have compassion. Practice active love for the world around you. Participate in good works.

The loss of a child

It never fails to amaze me how many of our clients' stories are just simply tragic. Growing up I always thought that the majority of homeless people are drug addicted felons who choose to be on the streets. Really, that's the exception to the rule...at least, amongst our clientele. Every single person I've met here has been kind, grateful, intelligent, giving... They genuinely struggle with something emotionally and just need some help to break out of that and get back on their feet.

Nearly every single one of our men had some sort of major "event" that caused a terrible spiral effect on their lives. You'd have to be inhuman not to sympathize.

David
48
From Queens, NY
Loves playing the guitar, skiing, and bowling.

"Before I was homeless I had a job and a nice place to live. Things were pretty good. I was divorced and raising my 4 year old son. I lost him in a car accident and, unfortunately, that led to a depression that I covered with medicating myself with alcohol and drugs. Inevitably, I lost my job and then my home.

For a long time I wallowed in the depression over the loss of my son, covering the pain with alcohol and drugs. Today, I am still homeless and jobless, but I have learned to live with my struggles without alcohol and drugs and hope soon to get a job and a place and fully regain my life."

Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.

As part of our upcoming annual banquet, I'm interviewing homeless men who frequent our shelter to get their stories. I want our donors to see real people who have real needs and real pain and real issues. Needless to say, what I'm hearing is breaking my heart.

The theme for this years banquet is "One Passion. One Purpose. One Vision. Rescue Them."

No shock to anyone, I went in to yet another project here as a professional. I had a job to do.

The venue will house 48 tables with 8 people to table. The people at those tables include corporate heads and CEOs of some of the largest companies in Washington State. One of those tables will have one of the wealthiest men in the United States. You may have heard of him. You drink his coffee all the time.

I had this idea that each table should "sponsor" a different homeless person. The theme, after all, is "Rescue them." So what could be better than showing everyone who "them" is. Each place setting will have a picture of a real person, their name, their age, where they're from, what their hobbies and skills are, and how they got to be homeless. Inside each of these little tents is a remit device to give donations. The left side of the tent is perforated and rips off to create a bookmark the donor can take with them as a reminder of what their dollars went to.

I realized, shortly after having this ingenious idea that I single-handedly gave myself a TON of work to do. 48 homeless people need to be interviewed, documented, compensated for their time and photographed. Then ALL of those photographs need to be retouched and aged (to fit with my design concept). Then 384 tents need to be assembled with all of the materials for the 48 tables.

I'm pretty good at shooting myself in the foot. I'm also pretty good at getting caught up in the work and the details and forgetting to have a heart.

That was remedied today when I met my first client:

Adam
26
Born in Auburn, WA.
Plays the guitar and sings song about peace and social equality.

"Before I became homeless I lived in Olympia. I was doing part time work doing yard care and working full time as a care giver for my mother. She was sick with breast cancer. The cancer spread through her body and she needed a lot of love and care. I took her to her treatments and stayed with her.

My mother passed from this world to heaven on June 25, 2011. My mother was an amazing woman who always helped anyone she could even though she was living month to month. I miss her so much. When I became homeless I was sick with grief and sadness and mourning.

I became homeless because I didn't save money or prepare for what would happen after she passed. I spent most all my time with her and I didn't know anyone in Olympia who could help. I didn't think about anything else. I just wanted to be there for my mom."

After talking with Adam I thanked him. I smiled and shook his hand. So few homeless people are used to being touched. Most people don't touch them because they're dirty or, at least, they think they're dirty. It means the world to a homeless person to be patted on the back or have their hand shaken. I gave him vouchers for housing and took his photograph. And then, once again, I shut myself in my office and cried.

How can so many people in the community walk by and not look?!?! How can they put their blinders on and do nothing?!?! Adam isn't a drug addict. He's not a violent criminal. He's just a kid who lost his mother and didn't have a plan.

It just makes me so sad.

My heart grew three sizes that day...

I'll be the first to admit that, when I came to this charity, I did it strategically. I needed nonprofit under my belt if I wanted to move to the next income bracket eventually. I know. Heartless right?

What I didn't plan for was that I would fall in love with this place. I didn't plan on it tugging at my heart the way it does. I didn't plan on caring so much.

The first day I came in a recovered addict who is part of our rehabilitation program came in to my office and introduced himself. He's only 23 and has been through more than I could ever possibly wrap my head around. His arms are covered in scars. He has marks on his face where the drugs ruined his skin. He has difficulty focusing, paying attention, and slowing down... he showed every sign a broken person would. And yet, after he told me his name he looked me right in the eyes and said, "if there's anything I can do to be a blessing to you, please let me know." And then he walked away.

I stood there in my office doorway for a minute having been hit with an emotional and humbling ton of bricks. And then, very slowly, I closed my door, shut the blinds, sat down at my desk and cried like a small, disturbed child. What right did I have to be here?!??! Who was I to think I had this figured out?!?! I came in to the situation thinking I would be able to impart something to these people. Instead, a 23 year old addict just humbled me. Out of all of his suffering and dysfunctions and addictions and anger, he was the first person to step up and ask how HE could be a blessing to ME!

If only we all had so much love in our hearts.

My employment has continued on that trend since the first day. Most of the time I feel like The Grinch, watching my heart grow size after size after size. Most days I cry. Most days I thank God I have the opportunity to experience this kind of hope and joy and this kind of despair.

Morning Coffee

Part of my job as the marketing head of a charity is to talk to people: donors, businesses, media, passersby... Because of that, I spend a LOT of time writing and talking these days. As a regular practice, we send letters out to our major donors once a month. As expected, I'm responsible for finding a way to get them to understand what it's like down here.

There's a huge separation in levels of reality in what I do. I always knew homeless people existed, obviously. Occasionally I would give them a few bucks. Once I bought groceries for a guy on a street corner in Yakima and took them to him.

It's different when you work with them every day; when they become real people and you know their names and they say hi and smile at you. I get angrier these days that people don't do more. Most of us spend our lives either complaining that no one does anything to help or complaining that there is no help. Many of us look away because we can't deal with the guilt of doing nothing. So we ignore it in an effort to not feel that way. Not many people are doers as opposed to complainers. Most people put their blinders on as they walk through downtown. I'm not asking you to give them money. I'm just asking you to nod hello, smile, whatever. Acknowledge that they're human too.

I had an experience recently that made me tear up...so I thought I would share it with my donors (and now you):

This morning, as I walked to work, I met a woman named Brenda. She was sitting on the corner across the street from Bread of Life Mission, in front of a little café I frequent. She asked me if I could give her change for food.

“Why don’t you come in with me and pick out what you want?” I said, as I pointed at the café. Brenda’s face lit up as she arose from the ground and followed me inside.

She picked out two bagels and a banana. She asked me to sit with her while she ate. I think she was worried that, if I wasn't with her, they'd ask her to leave. We sat there silently for a minute, her eating her bagel and me sipping my morning coffee. I spend a lot of time talking to the homeless but, for some reason, sitting across the table like that made it personal, and thus, strangely uncomfortable; like that tiny table separated me from a world I had no right to try to identify with.

The consumate professional and opportunist, I figured I could at least use this opportunity to relay her story. I've been planning a large banquet lately for some of our corporate donors and have been needing personal stories to help people understand.

"What would you do if you had a day where could do whatever you want?" I asked.

Brenda sat for a moment, thinking about the question and chewing a bite of her bagel.

"I’d go shopping and get some pants and a top and I’d take a hot bath and get so clean - I’d scrape off seven layers of dirt. And I'd wash my socks," she said, sticking her feet out from under the table and flexing them in a pidgeon-toed fashion. "My socks are hard as a rock they are so dirty."Brenda touched her hair with her hand. "I’d brush my hair and make it look all shiny and nice and make myself feel pretty." She cried when she talked about feeling pretty. She said it several times…how nice it would be to feel pretty.

We chatted a bit longer while she finished her meal. I wished Brenda a blessed day as I went off to work. I told her about our day shelter and hot meals and the clothing she could come get if she needed it. I know it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. But it’s something. And we ALL have a little time to do something.