As I waited for my turn, I looked around and couldn't help but feel the hopelessness and defeat shown on everyone's face, and the longer I stood there, the more my heart broke. CAP is in a strip mall facing the freeway and the room was small, dark and dirty with no ventilation. The seats were filled with waiting women who were just shells of fading humanity without hope or promise of a better life. Awww, man.... can you say depressing?
But, since I am a Serial Volunteer who Is President of the Stop-Me-Before-I-Volunteer
The CAP volunteer introduced herself and took me to the back where we put down the bags. Now I could really see their setup. Two words: Hell. NO. Smashed boxes, no organization, piles and piles of filthy, dented, old cans that I'm sure were past their expiration dates... my OCD flew into overdrive and I had to concentrate on her kind face and what she was saying because not breathing in my pre-panic attack was NOT an option. Deanna very proudly told me that the clients can get ONE bag of groceries every OTHER month. That's it. ONE BAG EVERY OTHER MONTH. And, get this: they are serving 80-90 families A DAY in Moreno Valley. Of course, they are only open T/Th 10-1...
By the way, they need peanut butter. And canned beans. Tuna, too.
In the afternoon I was in Colton so I swung by the Bishops Storehouse to see if they needed a volunteer for an hour. The difference between the two defies logic. How can they serve the same purpose but are night and day?
I had only a limited amount of time that I could volunteer but hey, the Great and Wise Jenny Eyestone says asking is free... so I did. One of the Brethren in charge realized my awesome potential and put me in charge of opening cases of toilet paper, inserting 5 rolls in each grocery bag, tying the bag in a knot and placing them on the shelf. Hey, works for me... just my speed and I can count to 5 ALL by myself!
The bonus about this job was I had a front row seat to EVERYTHING. I saw the Church members come in to a clean and spacious building with their sealed food orders and the lovely Sister at the desk greet them with a friendly smile and ask them to wait for just a moment until someone could help them. The volunteer would come forward w/a clipboard and the opened order form, the client pushed a shopping cart and off they went shopping... Cereal, flour, sugar, diapers, formula, canned goods, produce, toothbrushes, toilet paper (perfectly placed in bags I might add), meat, milk, eggs, cheese, deodorant... the list is endless and is tailored for the family for a two week period. Hundreds of dollars of FREE groceries later, the client left smiling and grateful. The Church's generosity to it's members may have been humbling but there was HOPE and a true, gentle Spirit that touched your heart. I spent my hour chatting with an elderly Sister Missionary who was hard of hearing but we made a great team as we polished off more than 10 cases. I whipped out a box cutter and tote that barge, lift that bale, we got into a rhythm quickly.
Now, before you start thinking about how wonderful I am and what an Angel I am... ummm... I probably should confess that I had my fake IPOD on, one earbud in and I was DEFINITELY NOT listening to Church appropriate music. Unless Theory of a Deadman is on President Monson's IPOD, I am pretty sure I am still going to Hell. And have a personalized parking space waiting.
Sooooo... after two major melt downs and one pre-panic attack and many, many cold Diet Cokes (all w/GREAT expiration dates) to calm my nerves today, the contrast between the charities made me recognize how lucky I am to not only be part of the greatest Church in the world, but also for the greatest friends anyone could wish for. My family and I could not have made it these last 6 months without my friends who know me, and well... for some reason, still love me! I know they pray for my soul everyday and there are probably 10,000 bonus points if someone can point me in the right direction to Good and Light. Yeah, right. Good luck, baby.
Pride goeth before the fall soooo... my friends won't take no for an answer and give me cans and bottles for recycling, slip me cash at church... Bishop always asks me how I am doing and won't settle for a vague answer. I wigged out at Church on Sunday and Kathleen Clark walked me into a room and listened to me cry and ramble like a crazed woman and didn't once point out how medication and a straight jacket might be next on the agenda...
Craig Rogers was ahead of me in line @ Sam's Club and gave the cashier $40 on the sly to give to me after he left. The look on her face was PRICELESS. She was astonished and asked if I knew him... My reply? Dude. I am CHARMING. It's a GREAT story-- ask and I will tell ALL.
Cindi and Bryan Grover gave me cash @ Christmas to go see my terminal Dad. I started to cry right there in the mall and still tear up at the generosity of a family I have known for 15 years and who has touched my life and made me feel worthwhile in so many ways. I feel lucky to know THEM.
Tracey Hudgens got a call from me pretending I wasn't crying in the parking lot of her work asking to have --not borrow-- $20 to take Samuel to the doctor because I had no money and the school wouldn't let him back in with his cough. (Stupid MVUSD sends out a truant officer to my house but THEY are the ones sending him home every day.... for 10 days... good grief.) She came out w/money and no questions asked, hugged me and as I told her I would never be able to pay her back but I would always feel grateful and guilty, Tracey just shook her head and gave me THAT LOOK. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got it.
Cindy Martin buys dog food (for 6 months now) for Jack, Rex and Rocky and once gave me a whole cup of pennies ($9.70!) for gas, and made me popcorn every day when all I could keep down was Popsicles, her popcorn and Diet Coke. (The bright side of depression and the total annihilation of my spirit is I stopped eating and lost 50 pounds. Yup. Not a diet I would recommend but I LOVE my size 9 jeans...)
Chantal... awww, man... Chantal... who should be called the Bank of Chantal, fills my gas tank, buys me detergent, and talks me off the-cliff-that-calls-my-na
Then there is my golfing buddy and partner in crime, straight man to my irreverent comedy, Jennifer who supports my Diet Coke habit, checks the expiration date faithfully and picks up the pieces of my broken and battered soul EVERY time... and somehow still loves me even though we both know I desperately want to be the better golfer. Oh. Wait. I am.
The love of my life (wink, wink) who recognized my defeated, broken spirit and text me for hours as I stood in the never-ending Welfare line for the first time EVER in my life to keep me sane and functioning. The same friend who text me over and over to make me feel anything BUT a failure, let me take out my frustration and anger, who recognized my reluctance to go home... How can you ever thank someone who still loves you even though you are certifiable? I will never be able to repay you, and I will always feel grateful and guilty, but I can honestly say that I love you the most, you are my favorite.
So many stories...
It's been a long six months that included the shock of my Dad's diagnosis of terminal cancer and his death 4 months later on Dec. 27, 2009... begging, borrowing, cajoling, promising ANYTHING to get the money/time/abilbity to finance 3 trips to Hawaii to try and cram a lifetime of memories with my favorite Dad into weeks... Alan's continued unemployment... repossession of his car... church assistance... denial of Welfare and then the mistake corrected (good thing I called!)... getting through my semester with the help of the most wonderful teachers (2 A's and 1 B)... 8 weeks of Hickory Farms w/the most AMAZING women on the planet who took care of me as I fell apart and where the phrase "Medic! Man down!" meant fill me with Diet Coke until numb, the same women who had the guts to scold me for chasing two 3-strike felons who stole from us. (Hey. I wanted my $6 back and they needed to know who they were dealing with)... my HF boss who bought two bags of food for Thanksgiving for my family (shhh... don't tell her about the felons... it's our secret!)... on the lighter side, I now know that I can buy Slurpees at 7-11 with my EBT card. Thanks, Rhonda... I needed that.
Sniff, sniff... I need Kleenex... Medic... man down... where's my Diet Coke?
But for all my ridiculously AMAZING, unbelievable amount of bad luck, the last six months have shown me I am truly the luckiest woman on the planet to have so many loyal, 5 minute friends. Because, for how little I have, I have sooooo much more than those broken, defeated, lifeless women @ CAP.
'Nuff said. Let's go play golf.
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