We woke up and were on the road at seven fifteen this morning. I just had time to wash my face, and brush my teeth. We ate breakfast at McDonald's and dad and I talked about smoking. grin. That is a more personal conversation.
We drove for a half an hour into Nashville. Actually, dad drove the van, and Morgan navigated, then it was we four ladies in the back and Kevin in the middle. We arrived at a warehouse, where the salvation army had set up base. Inside the warehouse a small side/corner was set up with partitions as a room-type spot, with about twelve tables and swivel desk chairs. We all took a desk/table and were trained on the application process for those signing their children up for Angel Tree.
There I sat for six hours, as case by case, people came through, leaving all pride at the door to come in and ask for their child's name to be put on a tree somewhere, so someone would pick their angel and buy them presents for Christmas. I held all the power in their eyes. I was the one they had to go through for their child, and I had the final word, whether they were eligible or not. And it broke my heart, literally, every time I broke a parent's heart because Santa Claus was going to overlook them this year.
This is how the process went:
"Hi there. My name is Maddie. How are you today? Well? It's so nice to see you. Why don't you have a seat and I'll do my best to get you what you're looking for today.
For starters let's see a photo ID and your social security card please?"
At this point if they have or remembered both of these things, they're off to a good start and the process continues. If not:
"Oh, you don't have a social security card? Well, I'm really sorry but because the government is doing it's best to support programs like these, and help the children who need aid, we need proof that you are a U.S. citizen. I'm really sorry. This isn't our protocol, it's just one of those rules we must comply with in order to aid as many people as we can with the funds that are available to us."
I use all the gentlest, and kindest words I can think of, but it makes no difference. All they hear is, "No, I can't help you." And this isn't the first time they've heard it. For the most part, they make no protest, they just gather the now-unimportant documents they brought with them, and leave without a word. They have no further business with me. I'm left heartbroken, and muster the stamina (for that's all it is, poor fake stamina, a cheap shot at trying to give my full heart) for the next person, although half my heart left with the person I couldn't help.
As the process continues...
"Thank you very much. Alright, how many are there in your household? This includes all adults, children, extended family, and friends. Please be thorough and honest, this helps us better evaluate the financial situation in you household."
The answer to this question doesn't void or clear their application, and so usually they are honest, but obviously some lie. And you can tell...you can.
Next step:
"Lovely. Thank you very much. May I now see some proof of current address?"
Usually they've brought government statements of food stamps or social security income which have a current address. I lost very few at this stage unless their zip code throws them out of the coverage. Then we just send them to another location. Although many use public transportation and are taking time off of their work to get to this location, and won't make it to another.
"Lovely, thank you dear. Now if you could please either tell me or provide documentation of all income? This includes, social security, pension, ssi, child support, food stamps, salary, families first, and any other support from friends or family. "
If their total income is below the poverty rate for size of family from the government, we've nearly cleared their application. Sometimes, they make enough, (although never a lot), that they don't make the requirement, and we turn them away. Usually I inquired if there were extenuating circumstances or bills that make their situation more difficult. Ugh. The stories come out here, and it takes a lot to keep composure.
If they're cleared:
"Alright lovely. Now let's meet the kids. I need to see their social security cards, and then their dates of birth proving that you're the parent."
Many of the mothers had forgotten their children's birth certificates, and so I couldn't clear them. It was really sad, to say the least. But, if they did bring them, all I had to do was get their kid's clothing and shoe sizes and then write down one need and one wish for each one, (just one, always something simple like a doll, or spiderman things). Then a signature and a date, and their child got Christmas.
If the applicants aren't there for their children, they're senior citizens or disabled and can't work so want blankets or household items for Christmas. The disabled ones are easiest and most pleasant because all their paperwork is on their person at all time for medical reasons, and there's only one in the house, and they all get about the same amount of money from the government.
My favorite of the day was a man named Carlis. He was so wonderful. He was blind and his neighbor lady had brought him in. All he wanted was for his eyesight to come back so he could watch his sports on the television. He said God didn't care about sports but he did. And God cares about him so it all works out. He couldn't see me but we talked. And he told me he'd pray for me, Miss Maddie. And I told him if God was anything like who he says he is, than I'm sure he could see again eventually.
There was another disabled woman, and all she wanted were some fuzzy socks, a nightgown and the war to end.
Edward, was another disabled man, and he told me he wanted me to be there next year and he would simply ask for Miss Maddie, the girl who says "lovely".
I love them. I do.
So that knocks out:
Carlis
Edward
Angel Tree
Income*
Poverty
Perspective
Beauty in the ugliest places
*(Most of their monthly incomes were less than I made this summer.)
Everything else was about Morgan trying to set me up with his son. I almost had him thinking he'd struck me out with strikes against me, like I hate animals and I'm high maintenance. But then my dad told him I wasn't high maintenance, and I like goldfish and can live with my dog Bogart. Then he asked me if I was a loud and public burper, which I'm not, so he couldn't hold that against me. Then he wanted to know if I was going to live in Indiana my whole life, which I'm not, so he remains unconvinced, oh well.
Brenda, bought me little handkerchiefs, and said to think of her when my snotty little nose runs. The dear also decorated a pillow case for me and gave it to me on my birthday. I forgot to mention that. I do like her a lot.
Since the afternoon blog, we were served dinner by the Hispanic church, and they all cried and thanked us again and again. I got some great pictures of us all just fellowshipping together. It was beautiful. Then we announced that we were paying for their carpets to be replaced and installed so our reconstruction would be complete. They all cried and then most of us cried.
The last thing before a nice long shower and much-needed clean up, was talking with the pastor's wife. She had thought I was my father's wife. This seems to be a very common speculation lately. Everyone either thinks he's my husband or we're brother and sister. They think the ring I wear is a wedding ring. THIS IS SO WEIRD! I love my dad, he's my favorite person, and we're really close, and I hold his hand and hug him, or kiss his cheek like a little girl who loves her daddy, but everyone thinks we're married, because he's all clean shaven and looks so young. I explained that my ring symbolizes a covenant I made to save sex for marriage, and she was blown away and so excited. grin. I'm glad she was so happy. I really wish people didn't perceive my relationship with dad like they do. It just makes me conscious about it and I hate it.
Anyway, this is way too long and I'm exhausted, but it's very thorough, and I've left only one thing out. This makes for personal satisfaction. : )
Tomorrow we pack up, breakfast at seven-thirty, and then we head for home. I'm completely satisfied with the trip, and totally ready to be home! I miss everyone. I'm content, and well, and will be happy in time I think. This won't end for me. I can't leave all this. I'll end up serving in similar ways back in Indiana probably.
Good night Good night, faithful readers. Sorry for length.
