Charitable Giving: We Need A New Model--My Final Revelation

I've know I've been droning on all week about the trip the girls and I took for spring break to do a mission trip to the Appalachian region. I've been trying to stay positive about the whole thing, but one issue has been nagging at me and is so close to spoiling the whole experience for me: Where we truly helping people, or just enabling them in their circumstances? This thought came to me as a one-two punch during the trip. The first time was when we went to build some front steps on the house trailers of two different families. The father/husband for Family A was grateful someone came out to take measurements and offer to help. Actually, his response was to tell our team that if someone could loan him the tools and help him locate the materials, he could do it himself. The main thing was: He didn't have access to a power saw or drill or any other equipment to help him accomplish the task. And, ultimately, he ended up taking a set of stairs we "rescued" from another site where the trailer had burned and installed them himself, with a little help. Contrast that to Family B, where we built a set of stairs for a man who was recently released from prison and was still unemployed. I was struck by this fellow (who was quite a bit younger than me or my fellow adults!). He had an able-bodied (drop out) teenage son living with him, neither of which didn't bother to come outside to tell us where we could plug in the drill. They came and went to the store, while we were working, without a word to any us. (I, personally, would've been curious enough to ask, "why are you doing this?" or "where are you from?" or something. After all, how often do you get 8 people showing up on your doorstep--or lack thereof--in 40-degree rainy weather to build you some steps?) When we were nearly done, one of our team knocked on the door to tell the guy the steps were done except for the hand rail we'd be back to install the next day. His response, as he poked his head out the door? "Okay. Cool." Door shut. That was it. Like we were interrupting his Dr. Phil-viewing or something. It just struck me as odd. Then, I had my second realization. That came on Thursday night, when we went to the local rec center to get pizza and do a little bowling. The facility was quite nice--the building had a weight/work out room, about 8 bowling lanes, pool tables, air hock, arcade machines, etc. As it turns out, the local Baptist church runs the center as an outreach ministry. Because there is so little for area residents to do for entertainment locally (especially teens), the church offers this option for all comers. Just pay for your pizza and shoe rental to bowl. We met the minister of the church, who was bowling. "Are you the Habitat group in town this week?" he asked us. No, we explained who we were--one of two teams in the county for our organization. "I heard Habitat was in town, but haven't seen them yet. See those folks over there?" he said, motioning toward a table of older adults in the dining area. "They came in today to set up for a twice-a-year dental clinic. We're praying for good weather on Saturday, because we'll have 200 people lined up outside the gymnasium before we open. These retired dentists come in from three states every April and October to do the clinic." That's when it hit me: Is the whole economy of this area based on groups of people, just like us, who come in and spend money locally to help people who are in a bad economic state? Are we helping these people with a hand-up or a hand-out? Have we, in our efforts, simply slapped a Band-Aid on a gushing chest wound? We did a few tasks--none of which were particularly complicated--for some people, but did we really help make their lives better? After all, the Trailer Guy had a pile of concrete blocks in the spot for his steps. They just weren't piled high enough or in a stable way to make for a safe stairway. Did we really help HIM? Or was he there to make US feel better about OURSELVES for being helpful? It just got me thinking about whether, with an entire industry of mission/outreach organizations swooping into this region to help people, if the system is actually a disincentive to the locals to strive for better lives. I don't want to paint this picture with such a broad brush that I condemn everyone in this region, but I felt like I had an Ah-Ha moment right then and there. From the attitudes of some of the folks we encountered, I have to admit, the sense of entitlement came through loud and clear. And not just from the Trailer Guy. We had a few glimpses of that attitude from others. (Fortunately, the girls on the mission trip weren't picking up on this at all. It was more of an issue for us jaded adults. And we've tried not to taint the experience for the kids.) Still, I wonder: If the charity wasn't coming right to your doorstep--literally--to do it all for you, wouldn't you be more motivated to do it yourself? Or seek out the help/skills/resources/training/something to do more than smoke cigarettes and eat Cheetos in front of the TV set all day? (Saw that, too.) I think it's time for a new model here. I really like the program Habitat for Humanity puts forth, because they make sure their home owners take classes to learn the skills for maintaining a home (basic care and finances, etc.), as well as expecting these folks to make an investment in the project through their own sweat equity. To me, that's doing more than just giving a hand out. It's bestowing something I think might be just, if not more, important: Education, confidence and skills. I'm trying to resolve the feelings I have for this trip, in retrospect. I think it was a great, great thing for my kids to do. I just wonder about the next time: Can we find another model that can make a true impact on the people? And that's the way I see it. Like it or not.

Busy, Busy Week

All the laundry is done. I still need to put it away and stow the sleeping bags, but life is starting to get back to normal after a week away in the Appalachian Mountain region of Kentucky.

LittleD, BabyD and I ventured out with a group of girls who attend their middle school and five other grownups for a week of service to the people who live in one of the nation's poorest counties.

I have much to say about what we did and saw.

The girls may add their 2 cents along the way.

But, having survived my first mission trip, I must say I have a new appreciation for how blessed my life really is.

Lots of Work To Be Done

Our hosts had quite a few work projects lined up before we arrived. A couple fell through for various reasons, so we just shifted our efforts to what we could do. Here's a look at how our To Do List ended up for the week:

• Slather 20 gallons of white wall primer on interior concrete block walls of a newly constructed church


• Paint said classroom and office walls, brown, green, blue and peach


• Construct wooden steps for a tired, but still in-use, house trailer perched on the side of a hill (that had a leaking septic system in the vicinity of the front door)


• Clear nails, glass, metal and debris from the approach to a deck and stairs that remained from a trailer that had been burned out, so they could be moved to another site


• Help organize and clean out a rather large warehouse filled with donated construction supplies, paint and tools


• Haul, sort and hang donated clothing for a second-hand shop that supplies low-cost linens and clothes to those in need in the area


• Clear branches and trash from a rec center grounds


• Help an elderly woman by fixing her doors and windows that would not close properly


• Attempt to (and ultimately give up on) restore the walls of a house trailer that was trashed by a woman's drug-addicted husband who was angered by their divorce, leaving her homeless

The list of things we could've done was much, much longer.

Honestly, I'm not sure there will ever be an end.

We were working in Lee County, KY, where the average annual household income is less than $23,000, and unemployment is higher than 12 percent. While the county did boast a country club (believe it or not), the poor visible condition of so many of the homes in the area was sad. I'm not talking about minor, cosmetic issues. I'm referring to the small houses and trailers with cardboard stapled over the broken-out windows. Or mobile homes with siding and insulation falling off the structures.

I couldn't help but wonder how these folks manage to stay warm and dry--especially when the temps dipped into the upper 20s overnight, like it did during out week there. Even the daytime highs in the mid-40s were no match for the cold drizzle that fell nearly all week long, leaving us all chilled to the bone after working outside. That led to Revelation #1:

Heat: It's a Wonderful Thing

Our living accommodations for the week were very basic. We stayed in small cabins that are part of a summer camp facility that is rarely used outside of the June-September busy season. Needless to say, the tiny wooden cabins were not insulated or heated. We brought small electric heaters to run during the night, hoping to counteract the draft coming in from the small air conditioning unit in the wall (that is undoubtedly appreciated in August!).

The first night there, BabyD actually climbed into my sleeping bag to stay warm. I was so cold, I was more than happy to share my little twin-sized bunk just for the extra body heat!

The dash to the restroom/showers in the chilly morning air only served to help wake us up. As did the lack of heat in the shower house!

That's what really got me to thinking: There are probably a lot of people in this area who live like this all the time--little or no heat, either because of the condition of their homes or because they can't afford to pay for heat. Honestly, seeking out a few minutes of warmth became an obsession by the end of the second day.

Made me grateful for what seems like one of the basics of life.

Mission Trip Revelation #2: Who Is The Grown Up?

In case you've been wondering, the origins of the title of this blog date back to a question my 13-year-old daughter likes to throw out every now and then. Especially when she thinks she can top Mom on something. That's just what happened, technology-wise, the day she tagged along with me to a blogging workshop put on by buddy Cris at GoodenessGracious. We created the blog, and hence the name.

That "Who Is The Grown Up?" question came to my mind during last week's spring break adventure/mission trip to the Appalachian region of Kentucky. I've been doing a few posts about it this week, because it gave me a lot to think about and realize. Among them including:

Revelation #2: Who Is The Grown Up? It Just Might Be The Kids!

The eight middle school girls (two of whom were my daughters) who went on the trip last week showed an amazing amount of maturity in many ways. And, for me, my girls especially. But, this past week, my girls really encouraged me by their behavior and their attitudes. And I'm starting to think that they might--just might--not end up as drop-out, drug-addicted, criminals with a mile-long juevie-record before they turn 18. (Which is actually a commentary on my maternal equivalent to hypochondria--my fear that I'm ruining my kids by bad parenting!)

During our journey, LittleD and BabyD demonstrated a great deal of maturity in dealing with unfamiliar people and less-than-pleasant situations. All the while with grace, helpful hearts and good attitudes.

Not once did they complain that when they were outside working in 40-degree rain to dig and set stair railing in what looked (and smelled!!) to be raw sewage seeping to the surface of the yard of one family's house trailer. Nor did they complain, even after three straight days of priming and painting the interior walls of a newly constructed church that was not yet heated. Nary a word while helping with a project to restore a woman's totally trashed house trailer that her druggie ex-husband nearly destroyed when she kicked him out. (I'll likely comment more on that situation when I have time to blog one more time about our trip in general.) They didn't even grumble when they spent tedious hours sorting, organizing and moving "stuff" in a warehouse that supplies building materials to underprivileged people at no charge.

The girls were excited to attend Wednesday night Bible study at the little pole barn where the congregation currently meets that will soon be moving into the new church building. They were glad to have the chance to meet some of the people who would benefit from their efforts. They really wanted to put a face on the community and get to know the folks down there. Both girls worked hard all week.

Highpoint about LittleD: Her history teacher, who was part of the trip leadership, went out of his way to tell me how hard she worked, with little instruction and no continuing supervision when she was on his project team one day.

Highpoint about BabyD: When she was leaving with a project team to dig the smelly post holes for staircase railings in the rain (and it was 40 degrees), I asked if she was going to she was going to be okay and warm enough to do that task. "No, but I'm on a mission trip, and it's not about what I want to do," she said.

The Sunday School class I'm taking right now at our church has a parenting focus. During our last class, we were challenged to consider what we, as parents, are doing right--instead of constantly beating ourselves up for "blowing it." I admit I beat myself up a lot. But the girls really were an encouragement to me--not that I'm doing anything particularly right in my parenting, except living by the grace of God.

My girls (unlike some unnamed other teens on the trip!) actually know how to wash dishes by hand. And they know how to clean a sink and scrub a toilet. (Kudos to BabyD who didn't bat an eye about doing potty duty on clean up day at the camp!) I feel good that, while they are not so enthusiastic about chores at home, my girls can--and will--survive because they've learned the basics of life.

Last week showed me just how my (not-so-baby-anymore) girls are growing up to be intelligent, talented and hard-working young women. And, considering their hard-working attitudes (compared to my own whining about the cold), I realized they just might (almost!) be grown ups!

Mission Complete: Lots To Think About

BabyD, LittleD and I, along with our mission team, came rolling in late Friday night from our trip to the Appalachian region of Kentucky over spring break. I have plenty to blog about after the experience. I've really had a perspective change (or maybe a confirmation?) about the poor, poor economic situation in that region. Overall, I'd say it was a good experience, and I'd love to do another trip. The question for me, personally, would be: To where? Right now, I'm just catching up on what's been happening in the blogosphere while we were gone. (I didn't take a computer, since our cell coverage was spotty at best.) I've also spent today catching up on a week of minimal sleep with a few cat naps between loads of laundry. And, I'm most grateful that The Husband got the water on and running just minutes before we got home last night. He was home all week, fighting the flu and tearing out the plumbing in our two bathrooms to fix a leak. (Can you say: Glad to be out of town??!) He actually texted me when we were an hour out to tell me I might want to stop so we can pee somewhere! I threatened to just stay at the Holiday Inn last night and come home today! I was so, so glad I got to take a HOT and LENGTHY shower in a WARM ROOM before bed last night!

We're on a Mission From God...

It's finally spring break at our house.
(Finally? What am I saying? How did it get to be spring break already?!? Seems like we were taking the Christmas tree down about two days ago... but I digress...)

Anyway, the daughters and I are packing up today for a little spring break adventure.



The girls' school (which, in full disclosure, is part of our church) is doing a mission trip to two of the most economically depressed counties in the United States. We're going to an area in the Cumberland Mountain region to serve some folks who have little economic opportunity. We know we're going to be doing some painting and some yard work and minor repairs for some of the residents there.

This should be really interesting. I've never been on a service-type trip before, domestic or international. This trip was originally planned for Mexico, but was changed because of security issues that some of the border towns have been having lately. And, for those of us chaperoning middle school girls (for some reason no boys signed up!), I can appreciate that.

We're excited to go. I've always wanted to do a mission trip as a family. This is sort of a test run for us. (The Husband is staying behind to fix a leaking shower knob--kind of glad I don't have to be here!) I really think my girls need to experience how other people live, and gain a better understanding of just how much God has blessed our lives. And find out that, yes, there IS something they can eat for a snack in our kitchen. And, yes, they surely have something to wear today. Not that my girls are particularly bad about those attitudes. But I certainly think we can all lack gratitude for what we we have.

We're praying for a good trip right now. (After all, we're taking a group of TEEN GIRLS who may be using power tools!) That we can be a blessing to these people, and demonstrate God's love in a tangible way.

Happy Spring, everyone! And I'll see you in a week (or so, after I tackle all that laundry when we get back!)

Spring: Part of the Cycle of Life

All of my Real Farm Wives of America bloggy pals are celebrating spring today with posts themed "Cycle of Life." After all, who understands the cycle of life more than those who live and work in agriculture. Tending to life's beginnings (plowing, planting, birthing, hatching) and endings (harvesting, milking, butchering, processing) are the essential components of life on a farm.

Before I tell you about how I learned about the realities of the Cycle of Life when I was a kid, I want to share with you the first signs of spring at our house: The inaugural flower of the season. Seemed appropriate to share this today, since I missed out on Wordless Wednesday this week.

As I've mentioned before, I grew up on a small farm. While my parents both worked full-time in town to make ends meet, they both obviously appreciated life on the farm--or at least faked it pretty well. They both grew up with parents who farmed, and wanted the four of us kids to grow up understanding and appreciating where our food came from. And participating in the process.

Even when we were little, we'd help gather eggs, which we'd wipe off with rags in the kitchen, and package up in bulk cartons to deliver to the local grocery store. (PLEASE NOTE: I am NOT as old as this makes me sound. I want to point out how much agriculture has changed in a very short amount of time. This was not uncommon practice in small towns in the 1970s!)

I learned even more about chickens when time came for butchering some of the birds for meat. Now, I don't think my parents did this themselves, in the side yard by the house, because they particularly enjoyed it. They did it out of economic necessity.

Let me just say: Take a moment to be thankful that Modern Agriculture has made poultry neatly wrapped in cellophane available in our grocery stores or farmers markets at an affordable price. Because that was when I learned that food production can be ugly and is not for the faint-of-heart. Wringing necks and plucking chickens is, fortunately, something most of us do not have to do ourselves any more. But it was part of life.

I guess that early exposure helped me understand that this had to happen for our family to eat--not much different from the time spent in the garden planting corn and cucumbers and greenbeans, which later needed to harvested and canned or frozen. Similar story for when it was pig-processing day at my grandparents' house. This was the cycle of life.

The fact that we spent time feeding and caring for the pigs and chickens, and later cows and goats, on our farm helped us understand the value of life. These animals had to be cared for as best we could. They were to be fed and watered every day before we, the people, ate. Caring for the animals came first--even before homework after school. They weren't pets, we had those. These creatures were valued even more for what they provided to our family in the form of food and income.

My dad felt strongly that we understand this was serious business. While the chicks were cute when they were little and yellow (hatched in the corner of my parents' bedroom in an incubator), they had purpose. He reinforced that message when I started raising rabbits. They weren't pets. They were a source of food, or a few bucks if we sold some at the sale barn.

That's why dad made me butcher my own rabbits. Yeah, those cute little furry creatures I had cared for myself. I still remember Dad telling me, "This is circle of life. If you're going to work in agriculture, you have to know how it works." He wanted to raise strong daughters, who could provide for themselves and who respected their resources.

I think he succeeded. Not sure I realized it at the time, but I do now.
Thanks to my dad, I have perspective that I think a lot of folks today are missing. Not that I think everyone needs to butcher their own food to appreciate it. I do think finding a way to be involved in this cycle of life can make a person more aware of--and grateful for--the food we eat.

Happy spring, everyone!
Be sure to stop by and visit the other Farmwives!

Man Vs. Tree

You might recall how we lost a really big, old tree in an ice storm a few weeks ago.

Well, a warm, sunny weekend day meant it was time to start tackling that beast.

Round 1 of Man Vs. Tree: Tree 1; The Husband 0

This big ol' maple left quite the mess in our front yard.

The standard chain saw just wasn't cutting it (pun intended).

As you can see, the real mass of the trunk is several feet off the ground, and cutting it without the risk of the log rolling over or falling on top of the cutter was quite real. As the Family Safety Officer (aka, woman with a sense of fear), I suggested The Husband loop the log chain around the trunk and pull it with Sulley, the Big Blue Suburban.

Round 2 of Man Vs. Tree: Tree 2; The Husband 0

Surprisingly, that didn't work so well.

That Bad Boy didn't even budge on the first go-round.

We did quite a few wheel ruts in the yard.

Good thing we don't have a neighborhood association for the homestead!

That's when we shifted the attack. We moved the chain to the upper trunk section that made up the Y in the trunk of the tree. The Husband had already cut into a portion of it, to weaken the branch so it would fall. The wood made all sorts of cool popping and creaking sounds.

What was even cooler--and more unusual--is The Husband shared his Man Toy and let ME drive the truck to pull the branch over. I felt so manly, I had to pause for a moment to grunt and scratch myself when I climbed out of the truck. And hike up my pants.


It didn't totally work, though, as we only succeeded in pulling it partially over to where the top piece lodged on the lower section. But, the tension of the chain on the truck did provide a measure of safety for cutting up that section of the tree without it falling on anybody.

Round 3 of Man Vs. Tree: Tree 2; The Husband 1

The Husband succeeded in making a little progress before giving it up for suppertime. Sunday afternoon was devoted to more chopping. This time, I left it to the boys. The World's Best Neighbor Ever brought his Man Toy (the John Deere with the front end loader) over to help, and they had a lot of it cleared away before dark. But the main trunk is still there--three feet off the ground.

That's why I saved the card of the tree service guy who stopped by last week to ask if we wanted to hire him to cut up the tree. It just might be worth the money to have a professional shoulder the risk of dicing up that heap.

Meanwhile, I've suggested we consider making it into really big yard art. Maybe carve it into a dolphin or something.