A lesson in humility

If you know me, you probably know that I've devoted a big chunk of my work to community-based participatory research (CBPR). This kind of research is very different from "Ivory Tower" research in that we look to communities to tell us what they want, to initiate their requests for help and to lead us through decision making processes that result in programs that are sort of "for the people, by the people, grass roots true"

One of the projects I work on I'm pretty proud of because it is truly CBPR. Family Academy is a parenting intervention for parents of children ages 0-3 where parents and kids come to Saturday sessions and work together to learn new parenting strategies. While the parents are learning, the kids are in high-quality education classrooms. The class goes for 12 weeks and we've seen tremendous success with it.

For whatever reason though, this session has sort of low attendance. We have one particular family that has gone through a lot lately. And when I say a lot, if you could read the instances she's dealt with you'd probably re-frame your current definition of "a lot". Seriously. This mom has been through some TOUGH stuff, but she's attended every week with four of her adorable children.

Given her dedication and the added struggles she's faced, I wanted to (with the help of many generous colleagues) make her Christmas a little brighter. So, prior to Christmas I collected donations from co-workers and presented her with $260.00 in giftcards to local merchants. She doesn't have a car, so I offered to arrange for a sitter and take her shopping.

It felt so good to give. When I told her with a colleague she cried tears of joy. This would make a tremendous difference for her.

The day came to take her shopping and I was a little excited to go. It felt like "ooh a shopping spree!" We had agreed to meet in the afternoon and I was truckin' through the beginning of my day at work when she sent me a text that the youngest two children (2 and 3 years old) were sick with fevers and needed medicine. She said that she had put them in the stroller (remember, she doesn't have a car) and walked them over to the community agency where the sitter would be. It was SO cold and windy that day.

When I picked her up, the kids were feverish and she was worried. I was worried too, but she wanted to continue, so off we went to Target. When we got there, I was totally disillusioned by what we would be doing. She got a cart and we went straight to socks, underwear, mittens, and scarves. These were the things her four children needed, and she was entirely smart about it, buy from the clearance racks and choosing the best purchase for her money. She bought diapers and shared gifts like a board game and cards. Each child got one small gift of their own, and then with such a sad empty cart we were in line to pay. Here we were at the checkout with a bill exceeding the gift card by 35 dollars. I payed the balance. It made me a little bit sick to my stomach to see how very little that money could stretch even with her thrifty clearance buys. With four children 200 dollars doesn't buy much. I was disheartened. I couldn't fathom asking her to put away such necessities to get the bill under the gift card.

We went back to the kids to find them still ill and feverish. Then on to the grocery where the other 60 dollars in gift cards would allow the purchase of cough drops and medicine. For me, it quickly became the day in the life of this mom, which was a giant dose of humility for me. She was incredibly grateful that I could take her around to run errands and resolve the issues with getting the kids' medicine, but it was entirely my pleasure, as I could really truly see through her eyes for a day. We got the medicine, picked up the little ones, then a call from the after school program said one of the other children was sick, so off we went to get her. Then back to get more medicine for that child and finally on to home. It made my heart ache to think she would of had to do all of that pushing a stroller on her feet in the bitter wind that day if I wasn't there. It seemed so defeating. So HARD.

I started that day thinking that I would be able to share some Christmas joy with her. I ended that evening learning quite a bit about how hard it is to survive in low-income communities where barriers are around every corner.

Her life is hard. Everyday she has to get her kids to school and find someone to watch the little two so she can go to work. She has to walk wherever she needs to be on her own two feet in the bitter cold of Minnesota winters. She has to argue with the pharmacist to get her prescriptions because she is on Medicade or Medicare. She has to watch her children struggle with the brutal force of the wind and the tears that come with being sick because she has to wait hours to be seen at a local clinic.

Its really heartbreaking.
I take all of these things for granted.
Every single Day.

And still, she makes an effort to come to Family Academy improve her parenting skills every Saturday morning.
Thats amazing.
Truly amazing. When her needs are SO great, she values parenting as one of the things she focuses on.

I can't explain how grateful I am to have been given the chance to be with her for that day. It had nothing to do with the shopping and everything to do with learning to walk a day in her shoes and be grateful for what I have.

My life is easy. I'm incredibly blessed and lucky.
This holiday season I've choosen to focus on the luckiness, the thankfulness and to remember to be grateful. That experience truly had been a lesson in humility for me. One well taken and much deserved.