But more than fear, more that sorrow, I see hope and joy in my job.  I see mothers struggling to maintain their composure in front of their children, finding strength in their own soothing words.  I see women sharing resources with one another, encouraging each other to keep trying, to not give up.  I see mommies kiss little heads, breathing in the sweetness, and turning that breath into courage to face the next obstacle.  I see families bonding together, emerging strong and wiser, together.

This week I got to share an immense joy with a mother of 5.  Having fled a violent home with only one bag of diapers and the clothes on their backs, this mother never gave up.  When options were slim, when resources were dry, her hope never wavered.  Every day she would say to me, “Well, if not today, then soon.  Soon this will all come together.”  For just over a month they faced the reality of being homeless, depending on others for help with food, clothing, bus tickets.  When she found an apartment that would rent to her, there was a glimpse of joy, only to be dashed by lack of sufficient funds to move-in.  The end of the year is a hard time to ask for financial help from social services.  Everyone’s budgets had run dry.  “Try us again after the New Year.  Maybe we can help then.”  Over and over, this mother never gave up, calling dozens of places a day, trying to find help.  After two weeks, the landlord decided to rent to someone else.  “Well,” she said to me, “looks like today is not the day.  But soon.  Soon it will all come together.”

On Tuesday, the good news came.  A request was heard, and funding came in to pay her entire deposit (when she had only asked for half).  A call to the landlord and she learned that the previous tenants had not passed the background check.  The place was hers if she still wanted it.  She could move in that very day.  As I called to share the good news, I could literally feel her exuberant joy flooding through the phone.  “Its here!  Its here!  Our day is here!  Our day has finally arrived!” she shouted into the phone.

No more fear.  No more anxiety.  No more frustration.  At least not for this moment.  No friends, this moment was made for joy.  For it had all come together.

I grew up in a wonderful church. The same church my dad grew up in. The members of that church were as much my family as were my aunts and uncles. They supported me through my journey of faith – even as it has led me to stand on different theological grounds than they do. And I know that whatever my path, there is a faith family in Florida who is supporting me with their prayers.

When I left for college, I started searching for a church that I felt at home at – a place where I felt fulfilled spiritually, challenged intellectually, and where I felt wanted. Four years in Alabama, four years in Kentucky, and summers in Tennessee, North Carolina and New York – always searching. There was a community in Hong Kong that was a great worshiping community – but it was a mostly a Sunday-only community.

When I moved to Seattle, I had pretty much given up my search. My work schedule made Sundays my Saturdays. I did the obligatory church-shopping, but nothing stuck. And for a year, there was nothing. And it wasn’t like my life was awful without a church to go to each week. My soul didn’t wither up. My heart didn’t turn black. My spirituality didn’t die. My prayers didn’t become void. But still, I knew how fulfilling it could be to be a part of a faith community.

When I happened upon Trinity, I was still hesitant. But the more I went, the more I got involved, the more I fell in love. With the theology, with the social action, with the singing, with the people. One day I was sitting in the pew, reading in unison the offertory prayer, “We pledge O God, to be part of the discovery of how much would be enough for everyone – not only to survive, but the thrive – and to find ways for all to access to that. May this offering of restraint and justice teach us to live like Jesus.” Saying those words, I realized that everyone saying them along with me, meant it. The actions of the church, the work of the members – lived those words out. And that was the kind of community I wanted to be a part of.

So, two weeks ago, I made a huge step in my faith journey. For the first time in my life, I was a member of a church that my parents didn’t belong to. I became a member of a church where I feel welcomed, challenged, fulfilled, blessed. It feels good to be home.

Don’t worry – she’ll have a Florida State outfit before the season is over

There are days that my job is pure joy.  Laughter.  Singing.  Lots of hugs.

Yesterday was not one of those days.  The end of the day left me weaker than drained.  My heart hurt for the pain I witnessed in just a few short hours.  My head swam with pitiful prayers and recalls of what I could have done better.

In the world of homelessness, it seems that every emotion is felt so much deeper.  Joy is more jubilant.  Pain is more wretched.  Laughter is more contagious.  Heartbreak is more permanent.

I want to write more.

Washington State is proposing massive cuts to financial aid.  They are proposing to eliminate all funding for Disability Lifeline, and to cut TANF, Food stamps, and health care. This after they have already cut those budgets twice.  Right now, an individual on Disability Lifeline receives $266 a month. Tell me, how in the world do you live on $266 a month?  Food stamps have been slashed, TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families) has been cut, both in the last year.  And they are facing more cuts.  That means more disabled individuals will lose their subsidized housing, when they lose their only source of income.  That means more mothers will have to choose between food and shelter.  That means more hungry people, trying to find a meal.

I work with these individuals. I work with these mothers who have fled domestic violence, and have to depend on government assistance, because, try as they might (and believe me, they try!) they cannot find a job.  I work with these individuals who have such severe physical or mental disabilities that they are incapable of earning a living wage.  I know these people by name, who depend on whatever assistance is available, just so they can live.

With these cuts, more men, women and children will be on the streets.  Right now, the average wait to get into a domestic violence shelter in King County is over a week.  The average wait to get into an emergency family shelter is 3 weeks.  Three weeks!  For an emergency shelter.  I am currently working with a mother who has 7 children.  Seven beautiful, well-behaved, smart kids who didn’t ask to be homeless.  They have been waiting for a month for a spot to open up somewhere.  Anywhere.  Their mom has been fighting, to no avail, to get on some kind of government assistance, just until she can get a job.  In the last three weeks she has applied to 22 different jobs, with only one call back.  She didn’t ask for this.  I know of a grandmother, who is caring for her two grandchildren.  The three of them live off the meager $266 from Disability Lifeline – less really, if you factor in that her subsidized housing is 30% of her income.  If she loses her check, she will losing her housing.  And then what?

Then what Washington?

I know that I am lucky.  Damn lucky.  I have been blessed with my health.  Both my husband and I have stable incomes.  And if, God forbid, something were to happen – if one of us were to fall ill, lose a job, our savings, our home – we know without a doubt any number of family members would step in.  Friends would offer us a place to stay.  Yes, we are so so lucky.

But what about those who don’t have stable family?  Those whose friends are in the same boat they are in?  Those who have lost a job, a spouse, their savings, their hope?  Where is their luck?

It makes me weep with anger.  It makes me want to scream.  It really makes me want to force those Olympian decision makers to try to live off of the scant incomes they are getting ready to cut for one month.  Hell, see if you can live off of that for one week!

And so I urge you – do what you can to effect change.  Say something.  Write a letter.  Call a representative.  Rally.  Donate food to a food bank.  Talk to your church about opening your doors at night as a shelter.  Go visit a shelter and let the people there know that someone actually gives a damn.

And remember, and be thankful every day, for your own stroke of luck, recognizing that at any moment, it too could turn.

My beautiful niece was born today!!  7 pounds even, 20 inches long and lungs in tact!

I am in love already!

WHO! WHO!  It’s a Birthday surprise for Heather T.!  My dear friend has a new found love of owls.  I have a new found love of cakeballs!  It was a match made in heaven.

(recipe from the oh so fabulous Bakerella!)

First, you gather all of your supplies, including the fabulous Cake Pops book (which I received for Christmas from my fabulous husband!)….

Then, you make a batch of cake balls.  Any cake mix will do.  I used Trader Joe’s Madagascar Vanilla Bean.  Bake the cake, crumble it, and then get your hands dirty!  Mix a can of icing with the cake crumbles, and shape into oblong balls.  Like so:

Then, add lollipop sticks to the bottom, thus evolving these little fellas from cake balls, to cake pops!  Adhere chocolate chips for ears with candy mold.  Then dip the whole body in the candy mold.  Place in a styrofoam block to set.  Like so:

After they have dried, you add little bitty feet!  The book called for little pink stars, but I thought the hearts made for super cute feet, and the rest of the sprinkles will certainly be used later this month!!  See, cute feet:

Then, you attach their little wings  (shhhh, it is really M&Ms).  Just let it be known, I bought one of those mega bags of M&Ms, just for the brown ones to make wings.  This was the grand total brown M&Ms in the whole bag!  And no!  I didn’t eat any!  I only ate the blues, greens, reds and yellows!  But, I found the orange works just fine for wings!  Be sure to use a lot of candy mold, M&Ms are heavy!!

And what makes a owl so cute?  Why, their candy bracelet eyes of course!  The book called for white, but again, I search through many a candy necklace, and didn’t find any white candy pieces!  But my friend Anna assured me that yellow was more authentic anyway, especially if they were British Long-Ear Owls.  Which I guess they are!

Then, add a tiny orange sprinkle for the nose and tada!  You are done!

*side note:  Can I just say that I LOVE my little neighborhood?  There is a store called Cookies that has a whole wall of specialty sprinkles!  So my owl noses?  Really tiny little carrots!

They are ready to be bagged and shipped!

Happy Birthday Heather!!!!

First, start by making your own crust.  For a two person sized pizza, I used 2 cups of whole wheat flour, a dash of sugar and salt, 1 pkg of active dry yeast, 1/2 cup hot water, ground spices (I lean towards oregano, garlic powder and basil, but be creative!), and olive oil.  Kneed with your hands (be sure to take off your rings!  this stuff it sticky!!!)  And roll it on out!

Then throw that sucker on the pizza stone (or cookie sheet) and roll up the edges to give you a nice crust.  If you want to be bad, brush the crust with melted butter and sprinkle a little garlic powder.  I didn’t on this one, and it was still good!

Add a layer of sauce.  I cheated and just used Tomato Basil Garlic Prego.

Then add your toppings!  We had diced onion, diced yellow pepper, olives and peperoncinis!

Don’t forget to say cheese!  We used an Italian blend with a little Pepper Jack for a kick!

Then, bake at 375 till the crust is a nice golden color, and all the cheese has melted.

Oh, we also pre-baked some chicken.  Which we sliced up and put on top during the last 5 minutes the pizza was in the oven.

Goes great with beer and football.  Or a movie.

Time: 20 minutes to bake chicken; (prepare crust and toppings while chicken bakes); 17 minutes for the pizza!

Cost: Using veggies you already have, this pizza can cost as low as $8!