You Don’t Have to Carve the Pumpkin

A few years ago, I was seeing a therapist. I was overwhelmed with all the things that overwhelm many of us – parenting, work, relationships – and sitting down with someone regularly to discuss all the issues swirling around in my brain really helped me gain perspective.

During this particular visit, we were discussing the pressures I unnecessarily put on myself as a parent, although I didn’t see this so succinctly at the time. Parenting is hard. Working is hard. Maintaining a relationship is hard. Making the right decisions for your family is hard. Making sure everyone has had their daily dose of love and guidance and education and experience is enough to give you a panic attack (which I am a pro at – giving myself a panic attack, that is). And in the moment, these pressures were triggered by my anticipation of the family dynamics sure to be set in motion by an activity intended to be a staple of fall fun: carving pumpkins.

_{Uncarved pumpkins, just staring at me, daring me to leave them whole}

Our conversation went something like this:

Me: “…and tonight we are carving pumpkins, and I just know it’s going to start out well but then turn tragic…”

Therapist Kristin: “Tell me more about that.”

Me: “Well, the kids will start out super excited, but then get bored after like, one or two pumpkins.”

Kristin “And why is that bad?”

Me: (WTH doesn’t she understand) “…because then the pumpkins won’t be finished.”

Kristin: “And then what will happen?”

Me: (sheesh, come on lady, how do you not get this??) “I will carve the pumpkins.”

Kristin: “Why?”

Me: (OMGYOU’REMAKINGMECRAZY) “So they get carved.”

Kristin: “But what happens if they don’t get carved?”

Me: …

Kristin: …

Me: “Nothing.”

Kristin “Right.”

Me: “I don’t have to carve the pumpkin??”

Kristin: “You don’t have to carve the pumpkin.”

Me: “I DON’T HAVE TO CARVE THE PUMPKIN!!!”

I shouted that last line a la Drew Barrymore’s “I’m not Josie Grossie anymore!”

And then we laughed.

_{You CAN’T carve these – my kind of pumpkins!}

I’ve thought of this line so many times. My husband will quote it back to me when I’ve set too many, or overly aggressive, goals for myself. It’s 9pm and you didn’t check off the 53 items on your to-do list today? You don’t have to carve the pumpkin. Planning to run a certain number of miles every day this week? You don’t have to carve the pumpkin. Guests are coming over, and you don’t have enough time to make the 3 complex appetizers that show off what a master of the kitchen you truly are? You don’t have to carve the pumpkin. It’s your child’s turn to bring snack to preschool, and store bought treats are great, but wow you really should put them in individual bags with cute notes and stickers and keys to a Mercedes? You don’t have to carve the pumpkin.

So take it easy. Be kind to yourself. There is no point in running yourself ragged. No one gets an award at the end of the day for accomplishing the most tasks that don’t matter all that much when you step back and think about it. Pumpkins are festive in their natural state. You don’t have to carve the pumpkin.

Should You Talk To Your Children About Disabilities?

“She needs to go back to preschool.” These words were uttered about my daughter – in front of my daughter – by a friend’s child.  I was taken aback, worried that my child’s feelings were hurt, and the mother was visibly shocked.  She immediately reminded her child to be kind.

Fast forward two years, when out to dinner with my dear friend Tif, I was lamenting the joys and challenges (okay, I was bitching a blue streak) of raising a child with special needs, where the outside world and it’s lack of understanding was concerned.  This story came up, and I told my friend how surprised I was that this friend had never spoken to her children about my daughter’s disability.  I can still see the look on Tif’s face when she said “Well, I’VE never talked to my children about her disability.”

Me and my good pal Tiffers – she’s one of the best!

I was very surprised.  My children have been close with hers since the day they were born.  We’ve done slumber parties. We’ve been on vacation together.  They were in our “quaranteam” – one of the few families we still saw and played with when everything was shut down.  They’ve seen the behavioral challenges, heard the strange noises – there aren’t a lot of secrets between us.

But Tif’s reasoning made sense – she said she didn’t want her daughters to think of mine as “different,” which I can appreciate.  But I do think, as children reach school age, I would very much like it if people had discussions with their children about kids who might have unique challenges.  I think it increases empathy.  Encourages kindness.  Builds understanding, that there might be a kid in their class who struggles more than others, or maybe looks a little different, or doesn’t talk quite right – and that is okay.  

Sometimes, you just need a hand to guide you.

Maybe your kiddo hasn’t noticed yet, or if they have, they don’t know what exactly is going on – but at some point, the differences between typical children and children with special needs are going to become apparent. People are scared of what they don’t understand, and before that point, in my eyes, I’d love it if children understood that differences shouldn’t be scary.

Before I take my family to hang out with a friend’s family, if the kids haven’t met before, I send a text along the lines of this: 
“Hey!  I’m not sure how much exposure your kiddos have had to children with special needs, but we find when they reach ~6 or older, it’s nice to give them a heads up about my daughter.  That she talks a little differently, and might need things explained to her a few extra times, but really she’s like any other kid; she just wants to have friends.”

Always prepping!!

I’ve seen this in action.  I can tell when parents have prepared their kids.  It goes from kids looking at my child with confusion, to a little extra patience and understanding – and maybe even some extra effort at including her. I cannot tell you how deeply this touches me.  

So if you want to know what I think (and if you don’t, why are you reading this?? JK ;-)), ask your kids if they know anyone at school who needs extra help.  Who needs extra instruction or doesn’t talk quite the same.  Or maybe, who just seems to need a friend. And help them understand that those kids might need a little extra patience.  Because sooner or later they’ll notice – and the guidance of a loving parent, versus being left questioning it alone, is pretty darn valuable.

Advocating For a Place in the Pool

“I’d just really love to talk to you!” she said in her voicemail.

This was a woman calling from my daughters’ swim lessons facility.  Just a day before, I’d signed all three of my girls up for a clinic on a day off of school.  I noted to the woman at the front desk (who is my youngest daughter’s teacher and who is AWESOME) that my oldest has special needs and would need extra help in the class.  “No worries” she said with a wave of her hand.  “We can staff the class so she has extra help.”

Fast forward 24 hours to that voicemail.  I figured she just wanted to understand exactly what was needed, but no big deal – all three of my girls take lessons there, they know our situation.

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I was wrong.

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The woman I called back told me it wasn’t the best set up if my daughter needed extra attention, and suggested I sign up for a private class. (Background: my child with special needs’ regular swim lessons already are private classes – cha-ching, cha-ching).  I explained that I’d spoken with the woman at the front desk when I signed up and she’d told me it would be okay.  And that the whole reason I had signed up in the first place is because we had extra credits on our account due to cancelled classes.  And how my girls, including the child in question, were thrilled and really looking forward to it.

 

 

                     Swim lessons in a simpler time

Maybe it was because I’d slept badly the night before.  Maybe it was because I’d just found out the next step (of many) in said daughter’s adventures in dentistry was going to cost $3K.  Maybe it was because I’m so freaking tired of having to take extra steps for EVERY. FREAKING. PART of her life that I was out of effs to give and figured the worst swim lessons lady could say was no.

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Her: “We don’t have the right ratio of teacher to student to support her”

Me: “Can you change it, so she can be included?”

Her: …silence…silence…silence…”Let me get back to you.”

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We hung up, and she followed up via email not long after, saying they had an extra staff member that day they could add to the class.  I thanked her for making arrangements so my daughter wouldn’t be left out once again, and patted myself on the back (kind of?) for advocating for my daughter.

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Now, I know there are some who would think I asked for too much.  That it isn’t the swim lessons facility’s fault my daughter needs extra help, and they’re going to have to pay an extra staff member, which they wouldn’t need to do were only typical children in that clinic (although since I have three children in swim lessons there, one in a private lesson, I think they’re getting plenty of money from me).  Where do you draw the line??

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One of my daughters’ earliest special education teachers, I think back when she was 3, told me “Never apologize for advocating for your child.”

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I’m still learning all the places that will apply.

Notes That Break Your Heart

“I’m sorry I wasn’t nice to you.”

Imagine finding this note in your daughter’s backpack.  With no context.

After reading this note, written on a small card in the handwriting of someone who had only been at it for a few years, the flood of emotions that we special needs parents feel quite often (but never quite get used to) overwhelmed me.  Who was this child who “wasn’t nice” to her?  What had they done? Why hadn’t my daughter told me about it – or why hadn’t I heard from someone at the school?  And who instigated the apology note?

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A quick email to the teacher got me some answers.  A group of boys in her first grade class were saying what my four year old would call “bathroom words,” giving the middle finger, and trying to get my special needs child to join them.  And my heart was broken.  I’m not naive, I know people will be mean to her because she is different.  But I was hoping to get through a few more years before children would seek their special needs classmate out as a target.

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I spoke to Teagan’s teacher the next day on the phone.  She told me she had talked to the boys about vulnerable people, and how they need to be extra caring with them.  I don’t know about all of them, but the message at least got through to one little note writer.

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Normally when I write blog posts like this, I get supportive messages expressing love for our family and how much people are in our corner.  While I love that, and appreciate the support so very much, that’s not what I’m hoping for.

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I’m hoping you read this and are inspired to talk to your kids.  Talk to them about how to treat someone they’re not sure how to treat.  Tell me you told them some people don’t learn the same way as others, or look exactly the same, or talk like everyone else…but they all want to be accepted and included and to have friends.  Tell me how you told them that taking an extra minute to say something nice or even simply give a smile to a child they’re not quite sure about could make their day.

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Those are the notes I’m hoping for.

They Didn’t Have To Do That (and I’m So Glad They Did)

“Kathleen?  Do you have any suggestions on how to get your daughter to focus?”

My heart sank.  The question was coming from from the friendly face of the children’s ministry director at our church, as she peeked into the room where I was teaching Sunday School.  It wasn’t an odd question – I knew what must be happening in the room down the hall.  My seven year old, who has a rare disability known as Trisomy 12p (too rare to have a jazzy name, I suppose) was yelling.  Or refusing to follow directions.  Or taking things from other children.  Hopefully not hitting.

 

“Give her a job to do that she can be successful at and lets her move around a bit.  Or I can come get her.”

 

“Oh, no need.” she responded.

 

I finished class with a smile on the outside and tears on the inside.  There is always a flurry of emotions when things like this happen.  Frustration, because she won’t act “normal.”  Sadness, because I know she acts this way when she’s uncomfortable and doesn’t know how to handle her emotions.  Guilt, because I should have taught her better.  And insecurity, because I’m wondering what those teachers are thinking – do they feel slighted, because they have the problem child in their class?  Are they annoyed with me, that I can’t make her behave?

 

After class my husband and I pick her up, and I thank and apologize, thank and apologize, thank and apologize.  I wonder if next week will be better.  I wonder how many bad weeks we can have before I’ll have to pull her out of the class.

 

Next week, one of Teagan’s teachers approaches me, and I dread hearing what is coming… 

They’ve come up with a solution.  One of them has a friend who is a special education teacher, and she is going to start coming to Sunday school to help Teagan.  

 

This woman is coming to a church she doesn’t go to every Sunday.  To help my daughter. 

 

Think about that.  No one asked them to figure this out, they could have said “not my problem.”  Out of the goodness of their hearts, they figured out a way for my daughter to stay a part of the class.

 

I stammered a thank you, and it wasn’t until we were on our way home that I became overwhelmed with their kindness.  I emailed the director a thank you and asked her to forward it to her teachers, and got this in reply:

 

“Please don’t ever feel bad.  She is no different than all the other children.  She is unique just as much as any of the others.  Each one acts differently for different reasons and we’re always trying to figure out what works best for each one.”  

 

The life of a special needs parent can be pretty lonely.  Thanks to ladies like these, it’s a little less so.  They didn’t have to do that.  I’m so glad they did.

God Isn’t In the Parking Spot Business

“Please let her be alright, please let her be alright, please let her be alright.”

These are the words I repeated to myself for 35 minutes, twice a day, three times a week for seven months.  Every drive to and from work, from the time we found out there might be something wrong with our baby girl (5 months old) till we finally got her rare chromosome diagnosis (12 months old).

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So, I guess the prayers didn’t work.

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Of course, that is a ridiculous thought process.  Her chromosome difference happened shortly after conception, by the time she was 5 months old I was WAY late to catch the prayer train.  And I guess the prayer I had said when I was pregnant – “God, please let this baby be healthy physically, emotionally, and mentally” – wasn’t right…I guess I should have prayed for genetic health as well (another ridiculous, snarky thought, I know).

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I don’t deny that my faith is in question.  I’m pretty up front about it, and I guess, comfortable with this indecision for now.  But I still pray.

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Then again, so do a lot of people.  People pray for real.  People pray for show.  People who are firm in their beliefs, pray.  People who turn to God only when they need something, pray.  People whose actions in no way would suggest they are religious or spiritual, pray.  They give glory to God.

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And WOW does it piss me off.

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People post pictures of their shiny new car, and comment that they are blessed.  Athletes win games/races/what have you, and pray on the field.  Celebrities win entertainment awards, and thank God.

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So God couldn’t see to giving my tiny human the ability to speak normally, because you needed help getting a ball to a certain place?  All those children, starving, because God was focused on your vacation?

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I’ve thought this way for a long time.  Then at church this past weekend, our pastor said something that struck a cord.  She was talking about how people attempt to mold what God is to fit their own agenda, or make it okay when they do something they shouldn’t have.

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I’m going to paraphrase (a lot) here – her message was along these lines:

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“People talk about how ‘my God isn’t one who would care about these little things.’  They talk about God as if he is a half daft old uncle, hair sprouting out of his ears, watery eyes, giving you a good natured wink.  That’s not God.  God isn’t in the business of getting you a good parking space at the mall.  God isn’t in the business of pandering to you.  God is in the business of transforming you.

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Whoa.

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Becoming the mother of a child with unique challenges has taught me a lot – definitely continuously transforming me (can’t say I’m a fan of the approach, though).

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“Please let me be a good mother.  Help me to be patient, and to teach my children so that they grow into confident, happy, kind people, who help to make the world a better place.”

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That one might be right on the money.

I Did Not See That Coming

The hubs and I walked into our daughter’s classroom early on a chilly Thursday morning.  Even though she is in kindergarten, parent/teacher conferences are nothing new to us – our daughter’s need for special education was identified early in her life, so we’d already been through 3 years of preschool.  Maybe we haven’t heard it all, but we’ve heard a lot – the devastating “she should be…”s, the hopeful “it’s great to see…”s, the teachers who are clearly trying to churn through their list of parents, and the teachers whose passion for what they do is palpable.

We sat down on tiny chairs and stifled their pleads for mercy.  I wasn’t expecting much out of the ordinary; I was looking forward to hearing what her teacher had to say and talking about what our next goals were, but I was also (#workingmomconfession) thinking about the meeting I was going to have to bust my ass to get to on time after the conference.  Then her regular classroom teacher (vs. special education teacher) sat down on her own tiny chair, and said:

“She’s doing a really nice job of making friends.”

Cue: tears.

I did not see that coming.  I am not a crier, I kind of detest crying.  But my child feeling included is on my mind and on my heart all. the. time.

After the teacher found me a box of tissues, we talked about how the more nurturing children in the class will cater to her, and how in general, a lot of the children treat her like a little sister.  And that is fine with me – I don’t need her to be prom queen (or queen of the blocks, or whatever equivalent kindergartners can be queen of), I just don’t want her to feel alone.

My daughter is with other kids all the time.  School, neighborhood friends, church choir.  But when you can’t communicate the same way everyone else can, I question if she ever feels truly “with” them.  People are scared of what they don’t understand, even adults (actually, maybe especially adults).  I’ve seen kids be mean to her.  I’ve seen kids ignore her.  I’ve seen kids approach her, realize something is a little different, and not know how to react.  I’ve also seen kids be really sweet and kind.

Neighborhood pals

Children are figuring out their way in the world, and teaching them how to treat other people is the responsibility of us as parents.  Yes I think about this when I think of my child who has some extra needs, but I also think about it when my three year old tells me she doesn’t want to play with a certain child who is always scared at preschool.  How do I make her understand how that kiddo might feel?  How do I explain to her how much joy she might bring to him just by inviting him into her game?  And even the most perfect parent in the world can’t teach everything – some of this they have to figure out on their own.  Which means sometimes others will be mean to them, and sometimes they will be the one being mean.  I was a kid once, I remember.

So as a non-perfect parent, I hope other non-perfect parents don’t mind me making a request.  If you’re lucky enough to have only the “average” amount of worry that your child won’t make friends, appreciate that.  I am so envious of you.  And teach your child that different doesn’t mean bad, and extending an invitation to play to someone who looks lonely just might make their day.

All in a Hard Morning’s Work

Oh good, I woke up early.  Everyone else is still sleeping – I can get some stuff done!

Might as well throw in a load of laundry.  The battle against the hamper is one I never expect I’ll win – it’s more like a continuous pruning, lest the bushes (pile of clothing on top of the hamper) get too big.

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Coffee.  Must start coffee.  The hubs will want some when he wakes up too.  And I might as well unload the dishwasher while I’m waiting for it to brew.

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Ah, there were a few emails I forgot to reply to yesterday – it will be nice to get those out of the way, and my colleagues have answers waiting for them when they get to the office – brownie points!  Type-ity-type type type.

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Oh good, the sun is coming up – now I can take the pup for a run.  Exercise for me, exercise for my four legged friend – check, check.

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Okay, well that’s done.  Second cup of coffee.  Just enough time to jump in the shower and get ready for work before I have to wake my two big girls up to get ready for school and preschool.  But before I can start the water, what’s that I hear?  Cries of the baby girl?  Better make her a bottle, she is probably hungry, she hasn’t eaten for a long time.  After all, it is already…

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6:15.  I’ve been up for two and a half hours.

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The life I’ve made for myself isn’t for the weary.  But damn is it full.

To the Mama with the New Diagnosis

Hi Mama,

So, your kiddo just got quite the diagnosis, huh?  A disability.  Something you never think will happen to your family.  I’m guessing you’re either crying non stop, or numb and feeling nothing at all.  And whichever it is, the other is bound to happen any minute now. I remember those days well.

I could say a bunch of positive things: “Keep your chin up…” “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle…”  “At least now you know what you’re dealing with…” but I know from experience that it won’t matter.  Everyone needs to deal with news like this in their own way, and at their own pace.  So here is what I will say: Dude…that sucks.

That SUCKS.  No one asks for this.  No one asks for near impossibility in what should be simple developmental milestones, for never feeling 100% a part of the group, for having to refigure every aspect of the life you had imagined.  So take your time.  Cry, scream and curse.

But here is my bit of positive: you will be happy again.

I know it doesn’t seem like it right now.  I very clearly remember thinking I didn’t know how I would ever feel joy again; I couldn’t imagine, with all the extra challenges we were going to face, how the enormity of those challenges wouldn’t cast a shadow over every activity in every minute of every day for the rest of my life.

But the anger began to ebb.  Not all at once, it was quite the roller coaster – but you can’t have peaks without a few valleys.  Eventually, the roller coaster became a nice plateau, with the intermittent dips that are to be expected.  Then one day, I woke up with that comforting feeling of “happy” that I used to take for granted.  It was nice to feel that again.  As they say, life goes on.  And as I say, receiving a disability diagnosis for your child is a life changer, not a life stopper.

Figure out how to move forward.  Do all the tests and prioritize your therapies.  Ask all the questions, get mad when no one can give you a straight answer, and then do what you think is right.  And figure out how to still be you.  What fills your bucket – your interests, your marriage, your friendships, your career (or not).

I read and run.  My husband and I are very active with our kiddos, and in supporting each other.  Life is busy, but I have a solid core group of friends I draw immense strength from (thank goodness for text messaging).  And I found a company that keeps me challenged and energized while being flexible enough to allow for the things my family needs.  These pieces didn’t all fall into place at once, and will need nurturing and adjustment, but they did fall into place.  They will for you, too.

That doesn’t mean to say something won’t happen to throw all this in a tizzy next week. And by no means do I want to imply that this will be easy.  Just last night, I read my daughter’s most recent preschool report; the most positive thing in there was that she is steady when she sits on a chair.  That’s fine.  While seeing the words on paper is jarring, I need those reports to be accurate.  Today, I will go in and ask how we work to make it better.

So Mama, take your time.  I don’t see any point in rushing yourself through what is a necessary adjustment process.  Be mad and confused, be lost and unable to understand, hate the world.  Just remind yourself, in the moments when you can stomach a bit of positive, that the light in your life won’t always be that dim.  You will be happy again.

Making The World Better: The Educated Activist and Multi-Approach Mom

The time of year and political climate have me aching to hear something good.  I recently asked my Facebook friends: How do you give back?  I loved some of the responses I got and was inspired to share.

I think it’s common for people to want to do good, but to not know where to start.  It can be hard to find the time, the right fit into your lifestyle, or an opportunity that really feeds your soul.

In this first post, two marvelous women I’m lucky to know – one a coworker, one from my childhood – have found or created volunteer opportunities that make the world a better place and fit with their passions.  Katie #1 volunteers her time at a book store largely dedicated to social justice and activism. Katie #2 collects coats for school kids, and works with her children to bring joy to seniors in a nursing home.

How do you make the world a better place?  If you’re looking for the right fit, maybe these ladies will inspire you (they sure did inspire me!).

THE ACTIVIST EDUCATOR

“Boneshaker and the phenomenal people involved keep my mind open, challenging me to think critically in a wold that often praises the easy road.” 

 

How do you make the world a better place?

I volunteer at Boneshaker Books, a community supported, collectively organized, volunteer run bookstore. The mission is to provide a welcoming space that promotes social justice and movements through books, education, and activism. Not only does Boneshaker offer progressive and radical literature, we also offer a free meeting space and bicycle book delivery for local orders! Boneshaker also houses the Women’s Prison Book Project, a group that provides books to female and transgender inmates across the country through mail requests.  

Once a week I go to the bookstore after work and run the register, organize bookshelves, answer questions, prep the space for meetings or events, and whatever else pops up!

The Boneshaker Crew

How did you discover this opportunity?
I initially heard of Boneshaker in a newspaper article about the opening six years ago. A few weeks later I popped in and struck up a conversation with one of the volunteers. We chatted for nearly an hour like old friends. I filled out a volunteer form and have been volunteering with that same friend ever since. 

How does this feed your soul?

I love volunteering with such radical people and supporting our local community by providing a welcoming, accepting space to people of all color, sexual orientation, religion, gender, and walk of life.

Boneshaker and the phenomenal people involved keep my mind open, challenging me to think critically in a wold that often praises the easy road. Boneshaker has become an oasis for me when life gets busy. The smell of books and the soft lighting from the paper lanterns soothe me. Plus we have a KILLER kids section!

Because of its open door policy, Boneshaker has become a haven for many people in the community. Our free meeting space makes it possible for groups to have a space to gather. Our anarchist-leaning literature sparks conversations, asks questions, and inspires. Our zine collection supports and spotlights local artists. In the six years it’s been open, Boneshaker has become a crucial part of the community.

How can others get involved?

Boneshaker Books is always looking for new volunteers, so if you want to be part of a radical, super cool book community and maybe make some new friends, fill out an application! Volunteering too much of a commitment? No worries, we always accept donations! Or you can always stop by for a good book, excellent music, and sparking conversation. Our door is always open!

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THE MULTI-APPROACH MOM
“If you’re paying attention to the world around you, you’ll see someone that could use a little pick me up.  I think most of us see it every day, but what if each of us would actually act on that every day?”

Wrapping gifts for an adopted family with coworkers  

How do you make the world a better place?

Warmth for the Young:
I know someone that works in the school system.  They had kids walking to school in tee shirts in December.  I had plenty of friends that had coats hanging in closets that could be put to good use.  The first year, we maybe got 20 coats.  Last year, I repeated it and was able to give 50+ coats AND gloves, hats, and winter boots- into the school system for kids who could really use them.  We’re in the process of collecting again for year three.

(A different kind of) Warmth for the Old:
My sister Molly and I were talking about teaching our kids to give back.  We took Valentines into a local nursing home. Our kids LOVED it as much as the residents, so we went back around St. Patrick’s Day with a bag of suckers to hand out.  We requested a total number of residents- the kids are going to make some Christmas cards and deliver those with candy canes.  So simple.  So fast.  So rewarding.

Who doesn’t love a surprise sweet treat?

How did you discover this opportunity?
I started looking for something new I could do.  I did a brief stint at the animal shelter, but wanted to take every animal home with me so knew that wasn’t a great fit (although I loved Lucky, my “I can’t leave this cat at the shelter” purchase).  I had three little sisters through the Big Sisters program.  By far one of the hardest and most gratifying things I have been part of – I still keep in touch with all three young ladies! 

I took a little time away from volunteering; I got married, built a house, and had a baby.  Too much crazy going on – but that’s what’s great about volunteering,  it is there when you’re ready.  Once my son was born the light switch turned back on – I knew that we were in a position to help people and I wanted to do just that.  So I started looking for ideas that would fit with my life.

How does this feed your soul?
There is nothing better than walking out to see someone smiling and knowing you’re the reason or at the very least played a part.  What I would really like to do is have a plan for something every month- doesn’t have to be huge, but SOMETHING.

How can others get involved?
It doesn’t have to be a ton of work.  Here are a few other ideas I’ve tried:
Do a coat drive – schools, shelters, etc always can use them
Adopt a Family – your churches, schools, cities, and shelters can put you in touch with someone
Food drives
Give blood
Stop by a nursing home, fire station, or police station with or without treats
Pay for someone behind you in line
Stop by and say hi to a neighbor you haven’t met