Paying it Forward

During breakfast yesterday with a good friend at McDuff's in Redlands (best omlettes west of the Mississippi), we arrived at this conclusion: yes, the economy is horrific; perhaps because of this fact, many people are stepping up and helping other people in amazing ways.

I shared about a few articles I have read recently: one, about a woman who owns a small business with about 8 employees. When it became apparent that this woman would need to lay someone off in order for the business to survive, she simply could not get herself to do it. She had come to love and respect too much the people who had helped her build the business. Her solution: she basically fired herself. "You are more than competent and capable to run this show, and you will. I will check in periodically when I can." She stepped into something part-time, earning a fraction of what she had made running the company. Most important to her was that those who had been so loyal to her--her employees--would not be affected by the economy.

This morning, I read of a woman who lost her only son in Iraq 7 years ago. She was so consummed with grief she didn't really think she could go on. While he was serving she would send him care packages on a monthly basis. She began to send care packages to some of his comrades--especially those who never received mail or support from home. People heard about her efforts and started donating goods, time, a truck, etc. A few years ago a philanthropist from Orange County pledged 1.5 million dollars to help support her efforts. She has been sending literally hundreds of boxes monthly overseas to servicemen in Iraq and Afghanistan who otherwise might not receive anything from "home". "You have become like a mom to us" one thank you note read. This doesn't really have much to do with the economy, but it is a great story.

Another article I read recently chronicled how often times when someone receives a donated kidney (giving them a new lease on life), someone in their family--or a close friend--ends up deciding that they want to "pay it forward" and donate a kidney. Hospitals report that when this happens, the "links in the chain" often times goes up to 7 after an initial kidney donation. This, to me, is amazing. I was in the Starbucks drive-thru a couple months ago, pulled forward to pay for my coffee, and the barista said "Not necessary--the person ahead of you paid for your drink". Here was this random person I didn't know who just decided they'd put a smile on someone's face. "Ok, that's pretty cool--can you do that for the person behind me?" Who knows how long that "chain" had been going--or how long it would last--but it was a very refreshing way to start the day. Sure, donating a cup of coffee is a far cry from donating a kidney--understood. But it really is the thought that counts.

I was an unwanted child. I was adopted--as an infant--by two people who wanted to have children. My parents had adopted my sister two years prior to "finding" me. If you know anything about the parents who found me, you know that I (and my sister) are two of the most blessed children in the world. Nearly two years ago, after losing both my mom and dad, I was "readopted" by my good friends the Reynolds, who live in Rancho Santa Fe. I spent Thanksgiving with my new family, and will--for the second year in a row--be in the family Christmas card photo. Again, how much more blessed can a guy become?!? Well, once again, it is time to "pay it forward". If you scroll down to the blog I wrote a few weeks ago about a family in San Bernardino, you will read about a Target gift card. Frankly, at this point, that doesn't even come close to where the story is leading. Let's just say that in the truest sense of adoption--beyond gift cards--it is now time for this adopted son to step up to the plate. 'Tis the season . . . .

Adopting a Family for Christmas

I am adopting a family this Christmas, and this is their story.

The family is made up of one auntie and 6 of her neices and nephews (5th grade thru senior in high school). The 6 kids have 3 different fathers, all deceased. Their mother lives in Los Angeles, and is unfit to care for any of them (has been that way for the past 7 years, and may never change).

This auntie works at one of our San Bernardino city schools providing clerical support. For the past 7 years, she has been raising 6 kids in a 3 bedroom apartment a few blocks from the middle school where I work.

All are good students. The senior and the youngest are musicians; one is a cheerleader, two are basketball players (one plays varsity in high school) and one is a football player (Jr. All-American league--he gets a scholarship from the coach).

The auntie receives Section 8 housing assistance and food stamps. Through her work, she is able to provide health insurance for the kids. There is no phone or internet access at the apartment. She is a woman of faith, and her faith has not been broken.

I know her personally, and I know each of her neices and nephews. And, frankly, I have no clue how she has been able to do what she has done with these kids, day after day (one car), year after year. She is an unsung hero--an angel.

If you have ever watched Extreme Home Makeover, this is one family who could easily qualify to be on that program.

My "adoption" idea is a bit less ambitious. I would like to give the auntie a gift card from Target next week before we go on our holiday break. She could use it to buy food, clothing, linens, gifts for the kids--whatever.

I know we all have our financial obligations this time of the year. If you would like to help put a smile on 7 faces (let's include yours and mine--that makes 9), I am inviting my Facebook friends to join me in contributing to this Target gift card. I will be matching (up to $500) whatever amount is sent my way.

If you are moved in any way by the story of these 6 kids and their auntie, could you take 3-4 minutes to write a check (of any amount) and address an envelope?

John Smeby
985 Kendall Dr., #A256
San Bernardino, CA 92407

I will be purchasing the gift card this weekend. This is my mailing address (I still live in Yucaipa). Your gift won't be tax-deductible, and if you're like me, that's not why you give. This season, it's all about smiles . . . .

Middle school counseling in San Bernardino

I was at Subway for lunch today, and was talking with the girl making my sandwich. I told her there was no way I could do her job, and she agreed she probably couldn't do mine. When people ask where I work, I usually respond with something like "if you call sitting around talking with kids all day work, then fine", but this is actually a tounge-in-cheek response. It is that, but it is much more.

When I first left the English classroom at Cajon about 8 years ago to become a middle school counselor, I really had no idea what I was getting into. I remember the first week a 6th grade girl came into my office in tears (she was like, what, 11 years old?). I was thinking to myself her grandma must have just passed away or something. But no. "I thought I knew who my best friend was, but now I'm not really sure, because she has a different best friend". This hit me like a ton of bricks, because, like so many things I would (and continue to) encounter, I was not prepared for this in my counseling classes. So I had to "get into" the world of a 6th grader REALLY fast.

Since that first week, I can truly say that every day (unlike teaching high school English) has been different from the next. Many days are fairly non-eventful, and I am thankful for those. Because the ones that are "eventful"--they are not always pleasant. Like the year I had a 7th grade girl come in my office telling me that her mother just died from AIDS, and her father was in the hospital--with AIDS. Then later that year, she informed me that yes, her father, too, had joined her mother in death. And toward the end of last year, when an 8th grade boy attempted suicide. I found this out from a note a teacher confiscated. I called the boy in, and he nodded his head--yes, this was true, but apparently he did not take enough pills. When I was on the phone with his guardian (step-dad--mom had disappeared two years ago, and never did find out about biological dad), informing him that his stepson attempted to take his own life earlier that week, the best he could come up with was "Dammit, I am so sick and tired of that kid--he was caught with weed a couple weeks ago. I'm through with him--might as well send him back to his mom". And then a couple weeks ago a 7th grade girl was in tears on my couch because both parents have been out of work, they just sit at home drinking away their depression.

These (true) stories are often times balanced with remarkable students doing remarkable things both in and out of the classroom, or on the athletic field, etc. It is not all bad, and I am thankful that even in the desperate situations I shared above, there is often times a positive resolution, healing, etc. But often times, unfortunately, there is not.

This morning began with not one, but two teachers stopping by my office seeking assistance in filing a CPS report. I also placed a call to one of my students' parole officers. This 8th grade boy has been in juvy for about a week or so for breaking into a house to steal some video gaming equipment. I was inquiring about receiving clearance to visit him while he was locked up. I then met with a 7th grade girl and her parents who claimed a student had sexually harrassed their daughter. My day ended around 5:15 when our boys softball team lost in the championship game to Cesar Chavez MS by one run.

Tomorrow I will be visiting 3 7th grade science classrooms to show a 25 minute DVD about the Columbine shootings, and how bullying and harrassment can lead students to tragic measures. It is unfortunate I should even have to spend time going over this message with students--but it is real, and it is essential they are confronted with the concept of tolerance, acceptance and understanding those who are different.

Tomorrow is also Friday. Friday is a very special day . . . .

Cayucos

Bad news: my school district has shortened our summer vacation to 6 weeks--we go back Friday, July 30. Good news: winding down summer with some pretty cool excursions--just returned from spending a couple days with my youngest cousin Deb, husband Garth and their dog Mia in Cayucos. Next week, headed to Colorado with Andrew and his mom for regional ("zonal") tennis competition (a pretty big honor for Drew to be invited), which is being held on the grounds of the National Air Force Center in Colorado Springs.

Cayucos--at first glance, this might sound like some town one would find on the coast of Peru--but it is actually just north of Morro Bay--roughly half way up the coast between LA and SF. It is one of those small, lazy, stereotypical California beach towns full of local flavor. It is also where Debbie (a landscape architect) and Garth (an architect/builder) currently reside. A little over two years ago, they broke ground on a home on a hillside overlooking Morro Bay/Cayucos/the Pacific ocean. Three levels with huge picture windows to take in the scenery--from the living room or deck, a constant stream of activity--surfers, dive-bombing pelicans, dolphins, sailboats--just an unbelievably beautiful 180 degree view of God's creation at it's finest.

Thursday Deb took the day off and turned into tour guide. First we drove up to this look-out place where people can watch elephant seals lazing on the sand and playing in the water. Years ago there was free access down to the beach; apparently, humans (and dogs) didn't exactly respect these creatures as they should, so there is now a wooden railing between us and them. This is the season where the females were all out in the ocean hunting for food, so just the males were on display. Big, ugly creatures--but cool to watch.

Then she took me to this "town" called Harmony. Population: 18. Yup--has its own zip code/post office (which was closed), and boasts not one, but two stores: a pottery store, and a store where they have glass blowers in the back making really cool stuff they sell in the front part. There used to be other stores, but--who knows--the economy?!?

Headed back to downtown Cayucos, walked along the pier and then across the street to the Brown Butter Sea Salt Cookie shop. Opened by two sisters a couple years ago, it has become this huge success story. They are now shipping their cookies all over thru their web site, and after tasting those things, it's no surprise. Calling them "cookies" really doesn't do them justice--they cost $1 each, and come in 3 flavors: cocoa, espresso and plain. I had the plain and cocoa, and both were simply the best cookie I have ever tasted. Melt-in-your-mouth, sorta like a combination of candy/fudge/cookie dough. Go online and order some . . .take the taste test!

To round off the day we took Mia for a walk along the beach looking for sea glass. This was something new to me--Debbie explained that people collect pieces of glass that have come from old broken bottles left behind by beach goers who don't take care of their trash. Over time, the action from the tide, the sand and other natural occurrences polish these pieces, and not only do people collect them, but they also have sea glass Festivals all over the world. Deb is on the committee for the first annual Cayucos Sea Glass Festival March 5th, 2011!

What to do?

Pretty sure I still have the "ask the audience" lifeline in play, and I'm going to use it now. Looking for any guidance you can give me in a landlord/tenant situation. Usually stuff is either common sense, or it is covered by fairly clear legal guidelines. But this situation is new (for me), and I am frankly stumped. That's where you come in . . . .

For the past four years, I have been managing a rental cabin in Crestline. After 3 and 1/2 years, the current tenant will be moving out next week. Last weekend I received a call from a couple interested in leasing it, and gave them the address so they could drive by. They pulled over in front of the cabin, and the current renter happened to be in the front. She offered to show them inside, so they received a brief tour. They liked it. Linda (name changed) called me this morning to share this, to say she really liked them, and said, "the couple is black--is that a problem for you?" Anyone who knows me even remotely should figure out how I answered that question. But then she said, "You know my next door neighbor Bill (name changed)? The older retired gentleman? Well, after they left he came over and asked what they were doing there." Bottom line: Linda and I live in the real world, where everyone gets along. Bill, on the other hand, is old school, meaning . . .well, that's part of the problem. Not really sure "how" old school (racist) he is--nor do I really care. HOWEVER, the potential renters might care.

Here's where my confusion lies: do I disclose to this nice young couple that if they move in, they may have a neighbor who doesn't like them (possibly a lot)? By doing so, would they get the (wrong) impression that I am trying to get them not to rent the cabin? Or, should this issue just be left alone to work itself out, and not even bring it up--hoping that Bill will deal with it in a "civilized" manner, and that the couple won't know or won't care about his "attitude" towards people different from himself? Honestly, I really have no idea how to proceed here--audience--you have 60 seconds, and the clock . . .starts . . .now. Any thoughts, suggestions, opinions are welcome--thanks.

Surf City

Last spring, I was in San Diego for one of Andrew's tennis tournaments (La Jolla, to be exact, which is where I spent summers as a kid visiting my maternal grandmother) and before heading back to the IE spent some time sitting on a rock watching a pod (would that be a proper use of the word??) of surfers. For the first time in my life, I was actually struck with a desire to surf. I have friends who surf, and for some of them, the activity takes on an almost spiritual quality. Why, after 5 decades on earth this urge suddenly kicked in, I cannot explain. Regardless, here it is.

So now that my 6-week summer break is here, I figure it's now or never. Bought a book about surfing and began reading it while spending a couple days on Catalina last week. About 50 pages into it, began to realize that grabbing a surfboard and paddling out into the ocean--as a virgin--would be sort of like saying "I want to become a race car driver", renting a race car, getting out on the track and immediately shifting into 200 mph. As I read, it became apparent there are some pretty important equipment, sea conditions, safety and surfer etiquette/protocol issues to consider--not to mention the actual skills and techniques one like myself will need to acquire. (This might seem extremely obvious to most people; however, as I sat on that rock above the La Jolla shore, what I saw was this group of surfers laying on their stomachs on their boards--not many waves--at one with the ocean--such a peaceful, alluring picture. Let's just say I'm glad I had enough sense to at least pick up a book before I ended up killing myself--or someone else!)

One of my surfer friends, Terry, told me he would show me the ropes, and I could join him next time he hits the waves. Earlier this week, another friend threw out the idea of a "surf camp", which had not even crossed my mind. About 30 minutes ago, I got off the phone with Souf from San Diego Surf School, located in Pacific Beach (just a few short blocks from where Gratia, my grandmother used to live). I am signed up for a week-long Adult Surf Camp which begins this Monday. He said sometimes the camp can have as many as 10 people, but next week there will be fewer than 5, so it will almost be like getting semi-private lessons--$250 purchases the lessons (two hours each day), wet suit and board rental. I am about as giddy with excitement as I was when I first started learning to play tennis in middle school--or when my first "live" radio broadcast on KUOR debuted during my junior year at the U of R. Perhaps needless to say, more to come as the summer races toward fall . . . .

Conditional Acceptance

We live in a world where acceptance is almost always contingent upon performance.

Mike Dunleavy, the coach of the LA Clippers basketball team, was recently fired mid-season when his team continued to spiral downward season after season.

Students are accepted to colleges and universities not because they try hard, have nice smiles or really like how a campus looks; rather, they are accepted because they scored in a certain range on the SAT and/or maintained a high GPA in high school.

Salespeople who do not sell enough product will be looking for another job, regardless of how nice they dress, how dependable they are showing up for work or how many years they worked for the company.

A driver might love working on cars, playing racing games on a PSP and going to the speedway; but if he doesn't score high enough on the written and/or driving portion of the DMV exam, a driver's license will not be granted.

In just about every area of life, we are seemingly constantly being evaluated, measured, judged, tested and scored as we attempt to gain entry or acceptance in a particular area. I am not suggesting that this is unfair; I am simply pointing out how prevalent this constant "proving oneself" to society has become.

It should come as no surprise, then, when an individual attempts to "work" or earn his or her way to heaven, trying to gain acceptance by God through sheer human effort. When practically every other area of life demands a certain level of success/performance prior to being accepted, the idea of "unconditional acceptance"--or grace--is not a concept easily understood or received.

Our pride wants to earn the approval of our Creator just as it wants to earn the approval of our professor in college, our supervisor at work or--yes--even our spouse, our children or our parents.

At this time of the year, however, the Cross of Christ--and His resurrection--cry out to us with a message of love unconditional. Here, we are accepted not for that which we have done; rather, we are wholly accepted and loved--truly unconditionally--because God SO loved the world--and each person He created. By receiving His love and forgiveness, we enter into a relationship free of requirements, expectations and guilt.

How thankful I am that while in just about every other area of life I must prove myself worthy through my performance, but in the most important relationship of all, I am loved eternally not for what I have done or will do, but simply because Jesus chose, from the foundation of time, to open wide His arms and His heart to his sheep, his children. Love unconditional. Period.

T-shirts

Ok, I have no idea what I am doing. Normally I am carefully crafting my blog post, but this is pure stream of consciousness. Warning: there will be no paragraph breaks, little or no proofreading, etc. It was one week ago I posted the last blog about Corey and his passion for helping people in Haiti. Well we finally received approval Wednesday from the main school district office to sell the HELP HAITI shirts at school, so we scheduled four consecutive Thursdays during both lunches. Yesterday was the first day--pretty simple set-up--table with shirts on it, PAL students standing/walking around wearing their shirts, music blaring from behind our table. Since we had just found out the day before that we could begin selling, we weren't able to have any announcements leading up to Thursday that shirts would be available. So we sold like 9 that day, but a bunch of kids were like "man, if I had known, I would have brought money--can I get one tomorrow?" So as of this afternoon, we are up to about 30 shirts sold (combination of adult staff members and students). We ran out of smalls and XLs, so I placed an updated order this afternoon before leaving campus. Then tonight got a call from Coach Heather at Cal State wanting to help out by having the women's tennis team sell them at the men's basketball regional tournament all day Tuesday--looking for 50-100 shirts. . . .yesterday morning dropped a few off to the counselors at Serrano Middle School over by San Manuel casino, and they said when they return from being off track their campus will want to sell them in April. Then there is Cajon High, who currently has last year's GV Pals. Other ideas being thrown out: get a kiosk at a mall, create a website, section off neighborhoods and go door to door . . . .My 8th graders are really into this, but because they have limited mobility/freedom, a lot is falling on me right now . . .So I'm thinking, "Should I just quit my job and sell t-shirts for Haiti full time at this point?" Perhaps not. But anyone who knows me at all knows that I've done crazier things than that . . . .

HELP HAITI

Corey, one of my 8th grade students at Golden Valley MS, was in my office a few days after the earthquake in Haiti last month. He was with a handful of his classmates, and with just a few minutes before the bell would ring for the next period I asked them which country they would want to visit if they could go anywhere in the world. I heard typical responses at first like Hawaii, Italy, Japan, etc. When it was Corey's turn, he said "Haiti". I asked him why he would want to go there, and he said he wanted to help the people affected by the earthquake.

Corey's response made a lasting impression--it resonated in my heart for days. Corey is a naturally gifted leader--elected president of the Peer Assistance Leaders group on campus, captain of the basketball team, enrolled in high-achieving GATE classes, etc. He is also a deeply spiritual young man, and is known to be found in church 2 or 3 evenings a week--and more--not because his parents say he has to--but because he has an intense longing to be there whenever possible.

Within the last couple of weeks, he has been in my office much more than usual--not because he needs counseling or is in trouble, but because he is leading an effort on campus to sell t-shirts to students and staff that say "HELP HAITI" on the front, with all profits to be donated to Compassion International. Today we dealt with the usual district garbage about following correct accounting procedures, etc. Last weekend he went to Stater Brothers with his father to see about setting up a table in front to sell the shirts (the space is reserved through March for Girl Scout cookie sales), and was in my office this afternoon with a few other PALs composing a letter to be faxed to the Stater Bros headquarters. He is also talking about starting a website thru which these shirts (black fabric with either hot pink or teal graphics--very striking!) could be sold world-wide.

Yesterday, I prayed with Corey in my office. I pray for my students all the time while driving to work in the morning; but that was the first time I remember actually praying over a student while I've been a public school counselor (ok, go ahead, fire me), and I'm thinking it will not be the last. He and 3 of his closest friends began asking me more about Compassion International. They knew I sponsored a child from Ecuador, because I have Andres' picture on my desk. Before I knew it, they were hovered around my computer scouring through children in the Dominican Republic who were in need of a sponsor. (Their first choice was a Haitian child, but Compassion has suspended child sponsorships from that country until the situation has become stabilized). They realize that for $38 a month, they could pool a portion of their lunch money and begin a "joint" sponsorship.

As I sit at my computer at home on this Friday evening, I am exhausted. Along with working as the "advisor" for this effort, I have a full plate of the usual counseling duties. But, as it always has been, the zeal of youth is contagious. I feel so incredibly blessed to have been placed in the path of such a passionate individual. True, he is looking to me for leadership. But I am looking to him for inspiration. And I am truly inspired . . . .