Feet, Do Your Thing

979 miles. That's how far we have come to date. Doesn't sound like very far for 49 days of travel does it? Actually it is. That's an average of 19.97 miles per day. In Chico California, I have met several men who walk twice that in any given day.

Women can stay at the Sabbath house in Chico, for as long as they need to, no questions asked. They have few requirements. They must be clean and sober, drug free and willing to work on getting out of their situation. Goals are set for each woman and through care and one and one counseling, are able to change the direction their lives have been going in.

Chico does not however have a shelter for men. I find that typically opposite of what we have found to be the norm. But the men take it in their stride. They know that at the Jesus Center, during the day, they can get a hot meal or two, a hot shower and a respite from the cold.

What this means however is that they way. They walk a lot. They walk holes in their shoes, holes in their socks and often walk holes in their feet. Blisters are an every day occurrence for most homeless people. They can be caused by many things also indigenous to homelessness. Walking too much, improper socks and improper shoes.

There is nothing the Jesus Center can do about the walking too much. In order to build a men's shelter they need hundreds of thousands of dollar just to build. That figure does not include the upkeep and staff to support the shelter.

The Jesus Center does have a store for the homeless and low-income families. Anyone can go into this store and get all the clothing they need, including shoes. What about socks? Well that's a different matter. They keep running out due to the amount of miles put in on a daily basis by the homeless men of Chico.

When I asked the Jesus Center what they needed, they could have asked for the astronomical amount needed for the men's shelter, but they didn't. To them there was something much more important for their men.

Socks.

Please donate or send socks to:

The Jesus Center

1297 Park Avenue

Chico, Ca 95928

http://www.change-for-life.org/

Help or Get Out of her Way

By now, everyone who has read my blog knows that I ended up living in the streets because of domestic violence. When I was married there were no laws to protect battered women. The laws didn't change until 1984. There were no shelters to be safe in, no agencies that advocate on your behalf. Seems pretty sad to me that we have come so far as a nation but yet these laws were only passed just over a quarter of a century ago.

What I have discovered on this trip however is that it doesn't matter how many laws are passed to protect women, they still get battered. Restraining orders are often worth nothing more than the piece of paper they are written on.

I have talked about what it's like to be in the streets or what it's like to sleep in the front seat of a car or even how it feels to sleep in the same room with a hundred other men or women. What I haven't talked about yet is what it's like to go from hopeless to home.

In 1984, when I finally transitioned into a small, and I do mean small apartment in San Jose, California, it actually took months for me to be able to sleep in a bed. I got so used to sleeping on the ground or on a church pew or when I was lucky in the front seat of a car that being in a bed was actually overwhelming. I still ate things you didn't have to cook because that was simpler.

The biggest transition was people. You get used to being by yourself; doing everything alone and sometimes even talking to yourself for you are your only companion. Different degrees of paranoia set in and when you transition back into society, it takes a lot for you to even say hello. You get so used to looking over your shoulder that trust is no longer an option.

You move into a home and suddenly you have people in your life that just a few short days ago did not know you existed. Do you trust them? You are friendly to them but you don't trust them, so the wall goes up. They may not see it, but it's there like this invisible force field that no one can penetrate.

I sleep with my doors unlocked. Always. Windows are open. Always. I know it frightens many of my friends that I do this. Knowing the reason behind it doesn't make them any less uneasy for my safety. For me, and many of the women I have met over the years who do the same thing, it is actually a safety mechanism. If he starts hitting, I can't always get out if the doors are locked. It takes a few seconds, sometimes more to open a locked door and at times that extra second can make a difference between safety and a broken jaw.

The most difficult transition however is a combination of street and domestic violence gut reaction. You either don't trust men at all or you are so desperate for love, for human touch, that you trust them too much.

I met Patrick, my traveling companion, 11 months after I got out of the street. It took me close to 10 of our 25 year friendship to trust him. Patrick has always said when it comes to me, "You either help or get out of her way." Sadly, right this very moment it's often get out of my way. I am discovering on this trip that in some respects I still don't trust him. We have talked about this and although he understands, I think it still hurts him.

I didn't know how much of an issue men still were until this trip began. Let's get real here. Although I am a very strong women in so many respects, when it comes to relationships, not so much, especially with men. I know, that I know, that I know he would never hurt me. He loves me and yet, I want to be with anyone else, anywhere else, but here with him. He graciously gives me the space I need which in this van is hard to do, but he finds a way.

We are in California. An area where I spent more than half of my homeless days. An area where at different times in those 3 years, I was shot at, stabbed, raped, and beaten and left in the road for dead. I am frightened to be here in this state and I am not even in the area that these events happened. It is because of those events of my past that today I cannot sleep near Patrick without hating what he represents to me. I am frightened to be so close day in and day out with this man I have known and been friends with for years.

With so much violence in our world today, rape seems to have so little meaning. I hate the word. It seems to be used so casually. Most people think it's about sex, but they are wrong. It's about control, shame, violence and terror. It is because of the many homeless women who choose the streets because of those violent acts, that I choose now, today, this moment to share this part of my story.

I wrote this letter about 20 years ago and I don't think of it often, but every once in a while I do. Today I am.

I write this letter to you so that you will remember me always because I think of you every day of my life.

I could go into all the gory details of what happened but I won't because you were there so you already know what you did to me. You used sex as a violent weapon when sex was meant as an act of love.

Words cannot begin to express to you the pain, the degradation and humility I felt while you were raping me. You were turned on by it. I wanted to die. You denied me any rights as a person. By the time all of you were through with me, I was a very different person than I had been a few hours earlier.

I had always been one to trust people and you took that away from me too. Each of you who took a turn at violating my body, violated every aspect of my life. You turned my world inside out in less time than it takes to take a bath.

The permanent damage you did was not to my body but to my mind, to my life. You didn't just savage a woman's body. You savaged a whole person and everyone I am close to. You took away my dignity; you took away my freedom of choice; you took away my soul and left in its place a shattered scrap of relationships and feelings that came before you and have come since.

The people who knew me and loved me no longer know who I am. My friends, who knew of what you did cannot look me in the eye. When they do sneak a quick look, it's one of pity. My parents have never been able to accept what happened. They refuse to talk about it.

I have three children. Because of you, they have never known the freedom of confidence because I have none. They have all grown up cynical and unable to trust because I have passed on to them what you forced upon me. You deprived them of the carefree happy childhood they deserved.

How long will I be a person who is withdrawn, distrustful and always stays in safe places, even now? I loved once. Before you, I could express that freely. You have stifled that.

For years I have not been able to have a sexual relationship. I may never have one again because with the mere act of being naked, every moment of that brutality is brought back. I cannot look in the mirror without shame. Every time I shower I am reminded when I would scrub my flesh until I drew blood and even then I could still feel your slime on me. I can still smell the foul odors of your bodily fluids. You haunt my dreams at night. I cannot get rid of you.

I could tell you about the fact that you will never be punished for what you did, but you already know that too. If there had been a trial, you would have had time to prepare and defend yourself. I wasn't given that opportunity. I have been through a lot of pain in my life, but nothing, none of my experiences prepared me to deal with how you violated me.

I am sure you are just aching to know how I am doing after all these years. I'm not doing well but then again I don't expect to do really well ever again. My life is going on but thanks to you it will never be the same again.

I share these thoughts publicly not for sympathy, because I fully accept what happened to me and know that the events of my past are what have prepared me for my life's calling. I share them knowing full well, there may be even one woman out there who needs to hear that they are not alone and there is hope.

These words may not reflect that, and you may not yet feel it, but believe me, there is a God out there watching over you and his name is called love.

Random Acts of Love

For everyone of us that succeeds, its because there's somebody out there to show you the way out ~ Oprah Winfrey

In Ashland every Wednesday under a tree in Lithia Park, you will find three very large boxes filled with random items. Everything from diapers to toothbrushes; shampoo to clothing; phone cards and food. These have been left for the homeless. They know it's there. If they need something they can take it. If they have something to leave behind they do. They are never greedy and like the Buddhists who left the boxes behind they share with love.

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people. ~ Martin Luther King

49er truck stop in Sacramento, California offers sanctuary to the homeless every night. There are no beds, but there is hot food and a place out of the cold or heat.

Let everyone regulate his conduct by the golden rule of doing to others as in similar circumstances we would have them do to us and the path of duty will be clear before him ~ William Wilberforce

A little second grade boy runs in slow motion so the little girl with Downs Syndrome can 'tag' him during recess.

I am the conscience of all those who knew something, but did nothing ~ Oskar Schindler

A teenager gives his brand new Christmas coat to the homeless person and doesn't stick around long enough to hear the words 'thank you.'

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry

For beautiful hair, let a child run his fingers through it once a day

For poise, walk with the knowledge you'll never walk alone

~Audrey Hepburn~

An elderly couple leaves behind a $100 tip for their harried waitress. Their bill came to $1.49

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented ~ Elie Wiesel

A homeless man puts down his sign asking for help, to offer it to a woman with a stalled vehicle.

Life's most persistent and urgent question is, "What are you doing for others?" ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

A six year old gives up her favorite 'Hello Kitty' lunchbox to the homeless man because his sign says he hasn't eaten in days.

The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. the hard part is doing it. ~ General H. Norman Schwarzkopf ~

Manna from heaven continues to come to us daily from unknown angels who offer random acts of love:

In Tacoma, the homeless pooled their pennies nickels and dimes together and proudly presented us with a gift of $37.00. They were thankful for what we are doing. We were thankful for this act of kindness and generosity that come from those who have nothing to begin with.

In every town we have passed through the YMCA's have offered us free showers instead of charging the traditional $2.00 per person. They we honored that we came to them. We were honored by their simple act of kindness.

In Olympia the mechanic repaired our broken van for much less than he could have because he believed in what we are doing.

In Grants Pass the manager at Denny's made sure we were well taken care of by personally serving us. He has never charged us for our final meal. He believed in what we are doing.

In Portland we were given a standing ovation from more than 100 homeless men and were honored when they and 47 homeless women joined us in our walk through my hometown.

In Redding, someone gave us a small coin purse. It was filled with $30.00 in golden dollars. I carry that small purse everywhere.

Two days ago we were given an envelope in Sacramento and told it held a bit of gas money. Inside was a $100 bill.

We pay $59.99 per month for our wireless Internet service to be able to blog. We weren't told that there was a 5 gigabyte limit to how much we can use that service and our bill had an unexpected $57.63 charge we can't afford.

I spoke to a supervisor named Angie to tell her what we were doing and explained that we couldn't afford this charge each month. How much would it cost to upgrade to 10 gigabytes. $250 per month. I thanked her and told her it was something we couldn't do, we would just have to watch our usage. She asked if I could hold on for a moment. She came back 11 minutes later with an incredible surprise.

Unlimited usage is not something Sprint provides but because we are trying to make difference, they are giving us just that. The supervisors supervisor was able to override the system and now we are receiving unlimited usage which if offered to the public would be at over $500 per month.

Manna from heaven comes in random acts of love every day.

A man who was completely innocent, offered himself as a sacrifice for the good of others, including his enemies and became the ransom for the world. It was a perfect act. ~ Gandhi~

What will your random act of love be today?

www.change-for-life.org

The Heart of Medford

If you build it they will come. That's what Kevin Lamson, founder of Hearts with a Mission in Medford Oregon believed. He knew God was telling him that he, Kevin Lamson, was destined to be the change for teens in Southern Oregon.

The community provides shelter and services for adults, but often homeless and at risk youth are overlooked. Some lose hope and turn to drugs and alcohol or end up in a life on the streets. Homeless students represent almost 9% of the Medford School District's student body, compared to the statewide average of 2.8%.

"We needed $45,000 for plumbing for the renovations. We had $7,000. I just thought if this was meant to be then God would provide. When he did, my friends knew that there was no question whose baby this really was."

Kevin is a man who believes whole heartedly in what he is doing. He did build it and they did come. Hearts with a Mission opened the end of December 2009. Just a few short months ago and with an open heart and a faith that was without question, the kids began to come.

The stories are gut wrenching and Kevin could not tell them without tears in his eyes. Some of the kids that have come through the doors into the safe haven at the newly remodeled Hearts with a Mission, have been brought by their parents wanting to give them something more than they are able at that time.

"My heart goers out to the dads that have dropped off their child believing they had failed as a parent, when the truth is, to give up your child because you love him/her is an absolute act of sacrifice," says Kevin.

One story stood out more than any of the many Kevin had for us. I tell it here with names omitted because the girl is still in the streets as far as it is known.

"This 14 year old kept digging int her arm with the eraser part of a pencil. She did this till she drew blood. She never reacted from the pain. She never cried and she never stopped what she was doing. She then took a lighter out of her pocket and set this newly self-inflicted wound on fire. I cringed, and when I asked her why she did it, she said, 'I hurt myself because the pain I feel in my arm, takes away the pain I feel in my heart. At least this pain is real.'

"It's because of these kids that I do this. They don't believe anyone cares and we must show them that we do. " Kevin tells me these stories, trying not to show his emotions, but he's not very good at being a tough guy. Nope. He's a teddy bear and the kids love him just as much as he loves them.

I could continue telling the stories that Kevin told me, but I won't. I wouldn't do him justice. Instead, I will let Kevin and a few of his clients tell you their stories themselves. Please watch the video above, but keep the kleenex handy.

To contact Kevin or to make a badly needed donation, please click on any Hearts with a Mission name.

www.change-for-life.org

Cause He Just Keeps Rollin Along

Please be patient with the video. It takes a while to load.

Ol' man river.
That ol' man river.
He don't say nothin'
But he must know somethin'
Cause he just keeps rollin along

This past weekend we had the most incredible experience standing in a small stream, the headwaters in the heart of Shasta, California. It may not be a well known tourist attraction but with many of the locals, standing in this stream is not only an every day occurrence, but an every day ritual.

Graelle was on a spiritual mission. She stood on the rocks at the head of this stream and sang a song. She sang quietly so the words were not clear, but the look on her face was the same I wear when singing praise songs to Christ on Sundays. I knew her words were heartfelt even without hearing them. She ended the song by scooping up a few handfuls of water and sprinkling different parts of her anatomy. When she completed this ritual she smiled and waved at us.

"Good morning," I said. "May I ask what you were doing?"

"Sure! I was thanking the mountain for giving us these tears of joys she sheds and wishing the tears to touch the lives of others in her journey."

In doing my research, it seems this is a Native American tradition. One that many spiritualists, Native American or not have found beautiful and adapted them to their own way of life. Graelle continued to explain that these waters have changed her life and so to give back to the mountain, she fills water bottles for those passing through.

As she took our bottles and filled them, my mind began to race. I had never thought about the life of a river but here I was standing in this tiny pool of water, and through the journey of these tears of joy, I knew I was supposed to be here at this moment to hear of this ritual and how it correlates to this journey of mine.

This is where it begins. With something small. Something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. As the water trickles down and sets out on its passage, it gathers strength in those tributaries it meets along the way.

A trickle.
A trickle that meets with other trickles that helps it to become a stream.
A stream meets with other trickles that have become streams themselves.
Those other streams help it to become a creek.
A creek that meets with other trickles that have become streams that have become creeks themselves.
Those other creeks help it to become a river.
A river that meets with other trickles that have become streams that have become creeks that have become rivers themselves.
This river that met with other trickles, that became streams, that became creeks, that became rivers has now become a sign of hope for all those who partake of its powers.
This river that was once a creek, that was once a stream that began as a trickle is now known as the Sacramento River.

Twelve inches. That's all it is. An opening only twelve inches wide brings forth such power, such might, such ambition, such dreams.

I knew within the first month of my journey that it would not end when I cross into Mexico. There is such a need out there. Much more than I never knew was possible. I set out to be a change in the world. Instead the world has been a change in me.

When I speak to the directors of shelters, transitional housings, and food banks, I hear the same thing. No matter what state, what city, what type of foundation I am at, this is what I hear and the order I hear it in.

"Listen. When you listen it shows you care."
"Spread the word. If more people thought of the homeless as a neighbor down on their luck and not someone who, drunk or high, or is lazy and just needs to get a job then we would have less of a homeless problem."
"Donate. Even if you only have 50 cents, that 50 cents could buy a pair of socks for someone who has none."

Notice money is always last. It isn't that it isn't important because it always is. But a kind look, a kind touch, a kind thought means more than all the money in the world.

I am only one person. I can not do this alone. They all need your help. In order for this journey to work, it needs to go viral. In order for it to go viral, I need your help. If I share the purpose of this journey with 10 people, and those 10 people share it with 10 other people and those 10 people share it with 10 other people. Well the possibilities are endless.

1 person
1 person shares with 10 other people
1 person shares with 10 other people, who share it with 10 more people = 100
1 person shares with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 more people = 1000
1 person shares with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 more people = 10,000
1 person shares with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 more people = 100,000
1 person shares with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share it with 10 other people, who share with 10 more people = 1,000,000

I am one voice and with your help as the streams and creeks and rivers join in this journey, we could become the chorus that ends homelessness. Be a tributary. Pass this blog, video and website to everyone you know. Be the change.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHCXjBZKmMM

http://www.change-for-life.org/

http://www.walking4change.blogspot.com/

And the Winner Is

I cannot tell you how my sisters raised their children. I don't know if it was with an iron fist as my parents raised us or like me, did they go in the opposite direction and rarely discipline. When I did punish however it was harsh, but rarely and I do mean rarely, physically. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times I struck my children.

At some point in my life, I cannot remember when, I wondered what had happened to my parents in their childhoods that had made them the way they were. What horrible things were done to them to make them punish us with such cruelty. Someone once told me 'It's your parent's fault you are the way you are. It's your fault if you stay that way.' I don't know if that is true, but I do believe we all have the ability to change. For some, all it takes is a chance.

First Place Family Development Center is that chance. Here, people who are in transition due to homelessness, job loss, health issues or other critical problems, can receive assistance as well as the tools to promote self-sufficiency. It is here, they find a sanctuary, a respite from the storm of life that has rained upon them.

At first glance, I did not see a commanding nor powerful presence. His stature is not great in size but his affection is colossal. His energy seems limitless, his dreams avant-garde, and his methods extraordinary. He lives up to his name in every way shape and form. Wise.

With a dream in place, William Wise set out to be part of the change and he has done that and more. When given the opportunity to change everything about Eugene's family day shelter First Place, William ran with the chance. He fired the entire crew because, although good people, they did not exude hope. He spent weeks searching and interviewing person after person, until he had a crew that shared his same line of thinking. It's a little unorthodox, but it shouldn't be. Let me see if I can do him justice.

We all do the best we are able to do in life. Everyone. Always. If we abuse our children, it isn't that we are truly mean or cruel. It is the best we can do, because it was the best of our parents that was passed on to us. More than likely we emulate those who raised us. For many of us whose childhoods were filled with anger and physical discipline, we too act accordingly. Hopefully, we act with less severity than was done to us.

We all have within us the ability to do more than the best we can, and here at First Place, children and adults alike are taught there is a better, much kinder way than what they may know.

Kids aged 2.5 to 5 are taught through love and therapeutic teaching methods that teach better ways to solve problems than with your fists or temper melt-downs. At the state certified preschool First Place Children's Center, children are never told no. Instead they are given options. As Jake Spavins, the director of the kids center explains...

"If a child is standing on the table, we do not say 'No you can't do that. Get down.' Instead, we help them to decide what better choices can be made. 'Johnny, is standing on the table the right thing to do? Can you think of a better way to jump up and down than on the table?'

This way of teaching, allows them the opportunity to make choices for themselves. They are already living in a chaotic world and by teaching them and allowing them to make these choices for themselves, gives them a bit of self worth. It teaches them they are valuable and what they think matters. What's more important, it teaches them that they matter."

"When most people come here, they are in fight, flight or freeze mode. At First Place, we take them as they are. We love them as they are.," says William.

First Place offers so much to their clients. It is here they can choose, without judgment what to do with their lives. They can choose to be more self-sufficient and look for jobs, take parenting classes, even a group therapy type session. Once in, they are usually hooked and the success rate is high.

One of the many things I found interesting was the Interfaith Emergency Shelter System in place at First Place. The shelter is small and cannot house the families they see during the day, but they are not left to fend for themselves. The IESS is a consortium of more than 30 faith communities offering night shelter, food, recreational activities and comfort throughout the school year. Congregational hosts sign up for one to two weeks each year. More than 1,500 volunteers make this outreach possible.

Open 365 days per year from 8-5 p.m., in First Place you find hope. Hope that someone cares. Hope that there is help. Hope that you will find a way home. Hope that your life will get better. One such young man is single dad Nathan. I won't tell you about Nathan. I will let you tell his story himself. Just click on Nathan's name.

In closing, let me tell you that there is a sign at the front desk that frightens me terribly. "Only 4 weeks remaining in Night Shelter. What are you going to do?"

William said to me "We have night shelter facilities from all types of faith communities. Churches, synagogues, temples. But the shelters only go through the school year. There are no shelters for these folks during the summer months. They are on their own again. What I don't understand is why more churches aren't involved. "

That's the question isn't it? I don't wonder why more churches aren't involved. I wonder why ALL of the churches aren't involved. After all, isn't that what Christ called us to do?

"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Matthew 25:37-40

Watch Nathan's story here. NATHAN

Good News! It's a Wonderful Life!

Forty six years ago, a pastor took a step in faith. After a message from God came through in an unorthodox fashion, the first rescue mission was started in the Redding area.

This past year Good News Gospel Mission served 237,343 meals to those in need as well as more than 11,000 bags of groceries. I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. With a first Corinthian approach to recovery, hope, faith and love were given freely. I was thirsty and you gave me drink. Those without beds received 76,000 nights of shelter, no questions asked. I was a stranger and you invited me in.

People had trusted George Bailey to do the right thing with their hard earned money. Through no fault of his, the money was no longer there. Feeling as if he had failed his friends, he wished he had never been born. George was given the rare opportunity to live life over again.

With the wingless angel Clarence by his side, he went through town running into people who he had known his whole life. He was a humble and simple man who loved all who crossed his path. He accepted these people just the way they were, no questions asked. A handshake was all that was needed to ensure the trust of George Bailey, and now because his wish had been granted, no one knew him at all.

Oh how he missed his old life. The one where friends would have loved him even if all he had ever offered was his heart. By the end of one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time, It's a Wonderful Life, of course we all know that those people whose lives had been touched by his selfless generosity, came forward to help him in his hour of need and to herald the event, a bell rung brightly as George's angel got his wings.

This is that hour folks. The Good News Rescue Mission is in trouble. They need funding to be able to do the good work begun in the small home in Redding so many years ago, and they need it now. Monday is the end of their fiscal year and they are in a deficit of close to $100,000. A miracle is needed.

All it takes is one person to make a difference in a little portion of the world. Please make a difference in yours. Be that miracle. Help the Good News keep the wings it has earned over these past decades. Ring that bell. Call today with your pledge. 530-242-5920

Good News Videos!

Good News Message!

www.change-for-life.org

Animal House

Almost everyone knows of the movie Animal House. A group of madcap boys trying to be worthy of "THE" fraternity, wreak havoc trying to fit in. Short of burning the house down (although if memory serves me correctly, they almost did) they did just about everything, to prove they were worthy of being part of this elite club.

Here in Eugene, the 'Animal House' house, went on to become the first home for the clients of ShelterCare, the biggest difference being, the men and women who choose to be part of this program will discover they don't have to do anything to prove themselves worthy. They are accepted just the way they are. There is no judgment, no criticism, just shelter, care and hope for those who suffer from mental illness and for families in crisis.

Many of the ShelterCare clients have known a life of rejection. With the Carter Administration's Mental Health Systems Act of 1980, the shift from inpatient services to outpatient was meant to help coordinate many services provided by community mental health systems such as halfway houses, and family and group homes. For a while it did. This act allowed those with mental illnesses to remain in their home communities with minimal hospitalization.

The system failed with the lack of support from the Regan Administration which left the funding in the hands of the individual states, and for decades caused concern with good reason. The hospitals of yesterday have become today's shelters, train stations, rest stops and more. What Regan neglected to take realistically into consideration was where would the funding come from? Not the financially struggling states. Where would they go once released back into society?

More than 300,000 mentally ill are being housed and treated in jail instead of hospitals. I find that ironic since back in 1842, Dorothea Dix founded the first mental health institution because she was sickened by the dehumanizing treatment of the mentally ill in prisons. So we have come full circle and are right back to the beginning. Many of the mentally ill are either homeless (the third largest cause of homelessness is mental illness) or in jail.

As I pass through Washington and Oregon and am about to enter California, one of the things I hear the most when I ask a shelter or service provider such as ShelterCare, "What can I do for you? What message would you like me to get out there?" I hear the same answer time after time.

"Look at them. Smile at them. Listen to them. They want to know that they are not worthless. They want to know that they have value because in their minds they have none."

ShelterCare may not be the end to homelessness for the mentally ill in Eugene, but they certainly are a huge part of the solution.

www.change-for-life.org

The Master Artist

Today's blog is short & sweet. As we travel through the Siskiyou mountains, I find daily, confirmation that the master knew what He was doing in those 6 days. He had a plan that leaves me in awe each time the sun rises.

Stunning to look at, with snow capped hills reaching to capture a cloud; the air, crisp with winter frost filled with the scent of purity; the robins and sparrows sing sweetly in the orchestra of spring, with geese returning home to herald the coming of a new season. A new adventure uncovering the sweet smelling mysteries mother nature has to offer.

As the mystery of our travels unfold, we must forewarn you that over this next week, the mountain may insist I take a break from blogging, by not allowing our signals to get through. I will try daily although I am finding the closer we get to California, the less signal I can find. So if it seems I stopped in mid blog, I probably di

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A Little Whine Goes A Long Way

It was 37 degrees this morning. It was cold. Whine. What little blankets we had weren't warm enough. Whine. I reached over and turned on the heat. I looked at the clock. It was 5:05 in the morning. Whine. We hadn't gone to sleep until way after midnight. Less than 5 hours sleep for the fourth day in a row. Whine.

My back hurt, my feet were swollen, I ached from shivering. Whine. there was too much traffic that kept going by all night. Whine. The lights at this rest stop are too bright. Whine. I can't sleep unless it's dark. Whine.

I don't see the little pink buds bursting through the frost. I don't see the deer grazing in the meadow along side the river nearby. I only see my sorrows as they begin to overflow.

I am out of money before I am out of month. Whine. I have food, but not what I really like to have for breakfast. Whine. I miss my kitchen where I can brew a fresh pot of coffee. Whine. I miss the fragrance of freshly baked bread wafting from the oven. Whine.

I have a lot to do today. Guess I had better get going. I put on my shoes, unwrap myself from my cocoon of blankets and brave the cold. Whine. I grab my change of clothing and while dressing I think of the cereal and banana I will have instead of hot oatmeal and fresh fruit I want. Whine.

I rush. The sooner I get back to the car, the sooner I can get warm. It starts to drizzle. Whine. No wait, it's a mix of rain & snow. Oh this cannot be happening. Whine.

That's when I see him. Huddled in a corner, wearing a torn army jacket is a man. He is dirty, but I don't really see that. All I see is blue.

Piercing blue eyes that seem empty and sad. Blue lips, that conceal chattering teeth. Blue fingers that curl into a fist to pound on anything nearby to get the blood circulating again.

He has a sign, but he doesn't ask. Instead he smiles, nods, and goes back to his corner . I wonder how I can help. I have no money; no room in the van. I can feed him but I have so little to offer.

I give him a choice. "Egg salad sandwich would do me just fine. Thank you ma am."

I bring him his sandwich; a bag of trail mix, a dozen boiled eggs, peanut butter, bread, and breakfast bars. His eyes glisten as they fill with water. He hadn't eaten in three days. He was ever so grateful.

His hands are shaking so badly from the cold he cannot hold his sandwich. Quickly, I wrap our thickest blanket around him and kiss his cheek.

"Good luck sweetie and may God bless you." I turn quickly so he won't see the tears. "Dear God," I pray. "No more whine. I've had enough."

Through his own tears, I hear him cry out, "He already has ma am. He already has."

Dino Was a Hit Today

Last year at this time, 96 degree weather prevailed. Not today! It surely wasn't something we were expecting on the 22nd of May. It wasn't even something we were prepared for. In fact we had given away our down filled comforter almost 10 days ago, so when we woke to cold noses, frozen toes, and morning breath that was seen before it was smelt, we knew our actions had probably been premature.

We had been thinking that with the 70 plus degree we had been in while in Portland, and our upcoming trip south, the heavy bedding would no longer be needed. We were wrong. To the surprise of many of us today, plans were changed, reservations cancelled and the best was made of a "sticky" situation. With eyebrows raised, we donned sweaters, bathrobes and extra socks to frolic in the newly fallen white blanket of snow.

A bit too old and to creaky to make snow angels, we explored trails and pathways that led us to a North Pole here in southern Oregon. Breathing in crisp clean air with the scent of ice had us reminiscing of childhoods past and for the first time in a while we had belly laughs of fun.

With the heater turned on full blast, and hot chocolate warm in our tummy's, we drove away from our late spring wonderland with smiles on our faces, pictures in the camera and the immortal words of Dean Martin embedded in our minds.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow.

Eugene's Rabbit Hole

Have you ever met a child who didn't wonder what it would be like to go through the looking glass? I wonder if they realize that Alice's life was not all magical singing flowers, talking rabbits and purple cats that faded, leaving nothing behind but a smile.

Mad hatters celebrated birthdays that didn't exist; you could shrink and blend into a world where no one could see you, or you can grow so large that you are scarier than every other person you know.

There are kids in the Eugene area who have a Looking Glass they can go to and know that they will be safe. There will be no Queens shouting off with their heads. There will be no dark and scary places, for at the Looking Glass in Eugene it is a safe haven especially for them. There are no mommy's on meth, no daddy's that use their fists. No brothers, uncles, step parents that molest. No families that leave them behind or throw them away.

The only adults at Looking Glass Station 7 are the few staff members who take them under their protective wing, love and nurture them back to health and teach them to fly. The Looking Glass, takes their tattered chaotic lives and give them stability, self-esteem and most importantly love.

"Runaway and homeless youth exposed to perilous situations on the "streets" find safety and assistance through crisis counseling and emergency shelter. These services help youth get their lives back on track and provide the chance to reunite with their families. Older homeless youth without families can prepare to live on their own. Services offered include housing assistance, education and basic life skills training."

More than one million six hundred thousand children under the age of 18 are homeless in any given year. That is triple the population of the capital of our great country itself. Of those 784,000 have been physically abused and 275,000 have been sexually abused. Of those, more than one third find themselves without beds because shelter space is limited.

The Looking Glass can only do so much, and they need help to perform the miracles they do. To find out more, please click on any "Looking Glass" word and help make a better wonderland for child who has fallen into a hole he or she can not get out of.

For more information on runaway and "throw away" youth please click on the word youth.

If It's Tuesday It Must Be Eugene

Oh. Wait. It's Thursday isn't it? Hmmm. My days are obviously blending together. Let's see what have I done for the past two days? Oh yes! Believe me I may forget what day it is, but I will NEVER forget the last 72 hours in Eugene. Let me just say that the mayor of Eugene should be very proud. Kitty, I hope you read this. There is so much to tell that I will do this in two or three blogs so I do hope you will all read on.

Our days started with a grand tour from Patrick's friend Bob. Although he had not been to any of the locations I had on my extensive list, he was a trooper and drove, walked, jogged right along with us from place to place. He made sure we were well fueled with our daily stimulant from the local jolly green giant; well rested by offering a place to lay our heads (although you know if you read yesterday's blog that I did not partake of that very nice offer) and well fed, by cooking us a marvelous meal of salmon, blackened chicken Alfredo, potatoes and broccoli. Believe me we were stuffed.

Our first stop on this magical mystery tour was Food for Lane County. All I can say is WOW, and believe you me, that does not begin to cover it. The words in italics are direct quotes from either the Food for Lane County website and their newsletter.

FFLC may be second only to the Oregon Food Bank in Portland in size, but their compassion and selfless acts of love make them #1 to tens of thousands of families that are blessed by their efforts each year. One of the most amazing things to me was the fact that 66,000 volunteers are needed annually and they come ready to roll up their sleeves and get cooking. Literally.

Next through extensive efforts and smooth communication between FFLC and its many donors, more than 7.1 million pounds of food are collected annually. Through the efforts of the hard working volunteers and few employees, over 3000 hot meals are made and distributed daily throughout Lane County which ranges from Florence to McKenzie Bridge with a population of 351,109; 6.5 million pounds of food are distributed throughout the county yearly; 200 - 485 families are given hots meal daily.

FFLC operates many different venues for emergency food services such as:
a) Food Distribution Network
b) Cereal for Youth
c) Children's Weekend Snack Packs
d) Emergency Food Pantry System
e) Extra Helping
f) Family Dinner Program
g) Food Rescue Express
h) Community Gardens
i) Rural Delivery
j) Summer Food Program

Hopefully I did not forget anything. I cannot begin to tell you all the things they are able to do. I can tell you however that they can do what others can not, and even then they go above and beyond. If there is food that is spoiled it goes into their worm farm. From there, the soil is distributed to the three large community gardens throughout the city of Eugene which provides families with not only fresh from the earth produce but even teaches them to garden and supply their own produce when possible. So nothing and I mean nothing goes to waste at FFLC, even the waste.

Now down to numbers and how you can help.

FFLC works on a small budget of $3,000,000 per year plus in-kind donations. Last year the United States Post Office in Lane County collected and delivered 150,000 pounds of food from one day's collection. Lane County Walmart's donate more than 44,000 pounds of produce; 658,000 pounds of food are collected from grocery stores; I can not give you the numbers on what is provided by the government but it's a lot. It's just not enough. Not nearly enough.

With an increase of 4% last year of people who needed to partake of these offerings and an increase of 11% of people entering the poverty level, the donations they receive are minimal compared to what is truly needed. So many people run out of money before they run out of month. You never know who those people are. It could be your next door neighbor. A family member who is too ashamed to say anything. you could be the next person that needs the help. Please help. To donate to Food for Lane County just click on the word donations.

Below is a list of just a few other ways you can help FFLC or other food banks in your area.
Plant a garden
Donate food
Tell your elected officials about hunger
Share a meal with some one
Teach your children about hunger
Organize a food drive
Donate food from your garden
Donate services. Volunteers are always needed
Support summer food programs
Start a community garden or participate in one

Thank you Dawn for taking the time to meet with us at the last minute; taking almost 2 hours of your day to show us what wonderful, amazing things are going on at FFLC and for caring so much about the people you and your organization care for.