This past Friday I was in Richmond with Kristi, the Elderly caseworker, at EKU where Jim and Reecie were (finally!) getting their hearing aids. The hearing aids have been ready to go since December, but snow days have prevented it from happening. I'm happy to report that we have had spring weather all this week: usually breezy and damp, but also sunny. So we finally got to go.
Prior to this venture, an average conversation with Jim and Reecie meant a lot of screaming to get any point across. When the audiologist turned on Reecie's hearing aid, she automatically became more soft-spoken than I've ever heard her before. The whole ride back she spoke so quietly it was hard to hear her!
She got a little choked up (as she is wont to do) in the car ride home. She kept turning around to look at me and turning toward Kristi in the driver's seat and talking about how most youth today don't care about the elderly and it's nice to know that there are people like us out there... but like I said it was hard to hear her! What a change. Hopefully this will mean the end of their communication problems. The hearing aids will take getting used to, and Jim and Reecie have to go back to the audiologist in a couple weeks for a check-up, so the journey isn't quite over yet. I hope hearing aid batteries are covered by medical cards... I didn't realize how short their lifespan can be!
Monday, February 21, 2011
A Home Visit (My Own!)
Last weekend (as in two weekends ago) Sr Robbie, Jenny, and I had a nice trip to Mad'ville. I was only in town for 24 hours and we were really busy the whole time with three Masses and a Knights of Columbus dinner plus loading up the van and Carol's car with diapers and detergent. It was kind of hard to leave because I wanted to spend a week at home at least. It seems that anytime I go home - for any amount of time - I want to stay there. And the longer my visit, the harder it is to leave. It's still really hard for me to comprehend that I won't really be living there again long-term. Well, I guess I shouldn't say that, since I have no idea what the future holds, but presumably I won't live there again. It's incredibly sad to think about. I'm also missing Owensboro, which unfortunately we weren't able to visit this time.
It was great to be back home in my own house and own bed. For some reason, I really appreciated everything much more than I ever had before. Even when I came home for two weeks at Christmas, I don't think it clicked. So whatever the reason (maybe because Sr. Robbie and Jenny were with me?) I just looked at my family and our house and our dog and our cat and our cars and our church community and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Growing up, it was easier for me to sense what people had that I didn't have, but now I'm much more attuned to the opposite.
This weekend I spent Saturday night at the Johnson House (more details to come in a later blog!). I was looking forward to a sleepover with my good Sandy Valley Region friend, Jessica. Caitlin dragged an extra mattress into Jessica's room for me and Jessica got it made up all nice for me. Then we hopped into bed, turned off the lights, and whispered in the dark. As Third Eye Blind (and Annie) say "Like a jazz DJ you talk me into sleep." I'd been waiting so long for it and it was awesome. One thing we talked about was home. Jessica is from New Jersey and she's looking forward to going home within the next few months. She said she misses her family and can't wait to be with them again. I feel similarly. I wouldn't call it homesickness, but some nights I just really start to wish that I was back in my home with all the space and quiet - not to mention family and pets. Living in community, I always have my public face on... like, some nights I just want to get up from the table when I'm done eating and go read or watch tv or whatever. But instead we wait for everyone to finish eating and then have devotion and clean up. It might not sound like much, but it's one of those day-in-day-out deals that can start to wear on some people. You don't get to live on your own time, you have to live by everyone else's.
Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say that I love being at home, and it's been on my mind lately which is making me question another year of service. I've been seriously considering applying to a program on a Lakota reservation in South Dakota, but I'm terrified that being so far away from home for so long would be unbearable. On the other hand, moving home makes me feel a little like a failure. I'm conflicted for sure. Tonight we have a (boy!!) perspective volunteer. I was trying to read in the library/meditation room when he came in with his Bible. "Don't let me interrupt your reading," he said before talking my ear off for fifteen or twenty minutes. But no matter... in his conversation he made it very clear that he was allowing God to lead him wherever he is meant to go. He spoke of the peace he had about all this. I was jealous. I feel like this same notion keeps coming up over and over within the past few months, and yet I'm still unable to feel peaceful or to understand my next move. I don't know how the rest of them do it.
Stacey got into her top pick for grad school today, and Sara had a phone interview with a grad school. I'm very tempted to feel behind right now. I have to keep telling myself that everyone's path is different, but I often wonder if I'm just dragging my feet.
It was great to be back home in my own house and own bed. For some reason, I really appreciated everything much more than I ever had before. Even when I came home for two weeks at Christmas, I don't think it clicked. So whatever the reason (maybe because Sr. Robbie and Jenny were with me?) I just looked at my family and our house and our dog and our cat and our cars and our church community and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Growing up, it was easier for me to sense what people had that I didn't have, but now I'm much more attuned to the opposite.
This weekend I spent Saturday night at the Johnson House (more details to come in a later blog!). I was looking forward to a sleepover with my good Sandy Valley Region friend, Jessica. Caitlin dragged an extra mattress into Jessica's room for me and Jessica got it made up all nice for me. Then we hopped into bed, turned off the lights, and whispered in the dark. As Third Eye Blind (and Annie) say "Like a jazz DJ you talk me into sleep." I'd been waiting so long for it and it was awesome. One thing we talked about was home. Jessica is from New Jersey and she's looking forward to going home within the next few months. She said she misses her family and can't wait to be with them again. I feel similarly. I wouldn't call it homesickness, but some nights I just really start to wish that I was back in my home with all the space and quiet - not to mention family and pets. Living in community, I always have my public face on... like, some nights I just want to get up from the table when I'm done eating and go read or watch tv or whatever. But instead we wait for everyone to finish eating and then have devotion and clean up. It might not sound like much, but it's one of those day-in-day-out deals that can start to wear on some people. You don't get to live on your own time, you have to live by everyone else's.
Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say that I love being at home, and it's been on my mind lately which is making me question another year of service. I've been seriously considering applying to a program on a Lakota reservation in South Dakota, but I'm terrified that being so far away from home for so long would be unbearable. On the other hand, moving home makes me feel a little like a failure. I'm conflicted for sure. Tonight we have a (boy!!) perspective volunteer. I was trying to read in the library/meditation room when he came in with his Bible. "Don't let me interrupt your reading," he said before talking my ear off for fifteen or twenty minutes. But no matter... in his conversation he made it very clear that he was allowing God to lead him wherever he is meant to go. He spoke of the peace he had about all this. I was jealous. I feel like this same notion keeps coming up over and over within the past few months, and yet I'm still unable to feel peaceful or to understand my next move. I don't know how the rest of them do it.
Stacey got into her top pick for grad school today, and Sara had a phone interview with a grad school. I'm very tempted to feel behind right now. I have to keep telling myself that everyone's path is different, but I often wonder if I'm just dragging my feet.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A Letter to Christ the King Parish
Tomorrow afternoon (weather permitting - Will winter ever end??) I will be driving home to Hopkins County with Sr. Robbie Pentecost and Jenny. We'll be speaking at CTK school and church and may also swing by Brescia to distribute some materials. Last week I was asked to write something for the church bulletin and here is what I came up with:
Dear Christ the King Family,
I can hardly believe it, but I’m about to celebrate my seventh month of service with the Christian Appalachian Project. For seven months I’ve been volunteering as the Family Advocacy caseworker in Rockcastle County in southeastern Kentucky (about 20 minutes south of Berea). I primarily provide emergency material and financial assistance to low-income families, with long-term emotional support through financial education, home visits, and referral to other CAP programs. However, I also oversee several seasonal programs (Small Farms and Gardens, Women’s Retreat, School Readiness, and Christmas Baskets) and have the opportunity to help out with other CAP programs from time to time, particularly in Housing.
What drew me to CAP is the fact that these are our fellow Kentuckians. Sometimes it’s as if an unseen barrier divides the eastern and western parts of the state. Being one of the very few native Kentuckians at CAP, I have had a much easier time adjusting to the language (The partiality toward the word “you’uns” rather than “y’all” being the only major difference.) and culture than my (mostly Northern and Midwestern) housemates. During my first week at CAP, one of my mentors from college told me in an email that no experience worth having is easy. This has certainly been the case with CAP.
There have been days when everything feels disarrayed and full of chaos. It’s not always easy dealing with people in a crisis. Some people take their anger out on you while others weep and tell you their life story. A woman called me once for help on her utility bill. For various reasons I was unable to assist her and she told me that I probably didn’t know what it was like to not have electricity or to go to bed without heat. Another time a woman I was helping cried and told me that she’d prayed they would shut off her electric while her toddler was out of the house because she didn’t know how to explain it to him. She’d taken all her perishable food out of her refrigerator and given it to a neighbor to store, but the neighbor wouldn’t give any of it back to her. When I handed her the check for fifty dollars, she hugged me and said “God bless you.” But I didn’t feel like any sort of a hero. I felt like throwing up.
There have also been days full of joy – like the week I watched a group of college students give up their break to help build a porch and ramp for an elderly couple particularly close to my heart. The lady stood on her porch and cried. That same lady often tells me that she loves me and all the CAP volunteers; that she considers us all her children. Another participant always ends a phone conversation or visit by telling me that she loves me. I didn’t ever expect this kind of reaction when I pictured my year with CAP.
I also didn’t imagine how close I’d become to the other volunteers serving Appalachia. I’ve met some of my best friends here, and I wouldn’t trade my experiences with them for the world. I’ve learned skills I never expected to have. I’m now certified to use a chainsaw, and have used more power tools in the past seven months than I have in the past seven years. I drive a truck daily – something I thought I’d never do. I’ve learned job skills that I know will benefit me no matter what I go on to do after CAP.
In closing, I have to thank my family, and my greater CTK family, for instilling the values that have led me to this service. During our fall retreat we were all asked to make road maps of our life, indicating experiences and people that led us to CAP. One of the very first things I wrote down was my involvement at CTK church and school. I think it’s crucial that the youth of CTK continue to be involved in awareness, advocacy, and service to all manner of poverty (i.e. ignorance, financial poverty, social injustice, loneliness), and that you as the parents and leaders seek out opportunities to introduce our children and teens serving the needs of the community.
Lynn Hardesty
Christ the King School ‘02
Dear Christ the King Family,
I can hardly believe it, but I’m about to celebrate my seventh month of service with the Christian Appalachian Project. For seven months I’ve been volunteering as the Family Advocacy caseworker in Rockcastle County in southeastern Kentucky (about 20 minutes south of Berea). I primarily provide emergency material and financial assistance to low-income families, with long-term emotional support through financial education, home visits, and referral to other CAP programs. However, I also oversee several seasonal programs (Small Farms and Gardens, Women’s Retreat, School Readiness, and Christmas Baskets) and have the opportunity to help out with other CAP programs from time to time, particularly in Housing.
What drew me to CAP is the fact that these are our fellow Kentuckians. Sometimes it’s as if an unseen barrier divides the eastern and western parts of the state. Being one of the very few native Kentuckians at CAP, I have had a much easier time adjusting to the language (The partiality toward the word “you’uns” rather than “y’all” being the only major difference.) and culture than my (mostly Northern and Midwestern) housemates. During my first week at CAP, one of my mentors from college told me in an email that no experience worth having is easy. This has certainly been the case with CAP.
There have been days when everything feels disarrayed and full of chaos. It’s not always easy dealing with people in a crisis. Some people take their anger out on you while others weep and tell you their life story. A woman called me once for help on her utility bill. For various reasons I was unable to assist her and she told me that I probably didn’t know what it was like to not have electricity or to go to bed without heat. Another time a woman I was helping cried and told me that she’d prayed they would shut off her electric while her toddler was out of the house because she didn’t know how to explain it to him. She’d taken all her perishable food out of her refrigerator and given it to a neighbor to store, but the neighbor wouldn’t give any of it back to her. When I handed her the check for fifty dollars, she hugged me and said “God bless you.” But I didn’t feel like any sort of a hero. I felt like throwing up.
There have also been days full of joy – like the week I watched a group of college students give up their break to help build a porch and ramp for an elderly couple particularly close to my heart. The lady stood on her porch and cried. That same lady often tells me that she loves me and all the CAP volunteers; that she considers us all her children. Another participant always ends a phone conversation or visit by telling me that she loves me. I didn’t ever expect this kind of reaction when I pictured my year with CAP.
I also didn’t imagine how close I’d become to the other volunteers serving Appalachia. I’ve met some of my best friends here, and I wouldn’t trade my experiences with them for the world. I’ve learned skills I never expected to have. I’m now certified to use a chainsaw, and have used more power tools in the past seven months than I have in the past seven years. I drive a truck daily – something I thought I’d never do. I’ve learned job skills that I know will benefit me no matter what I go on to do after CAP.
In closing, I have to thank my family, and my greater CTK family, for instilling the values that have led me to this service. During our fall retreat we were all asked to make road maps of our life, indicating experiences and people that led us to CAP. One of the very first things I wrote down was my involvement at CTK church and school. I think it’s crucial that the youth of CTK continue to be involved in awareness, advocacy, and service to all manner of poverty (i.e. ignorance, financial poverty, social injustice, loneliness), and that you as the parents and leaders seek out opportunities to introduce our children and teens serving the needs of the community.
Lynn Hardesty
Christ the King School ‘02
Saturday, February 5, 2011
From the Hollers to Sophisticated Fighting Irish and Back
It's a varied life that I've led (and lead). The wealthy people I've known, the poor people I've known. The grand places I've been, the shacks that I've been in. It seems strange. It also seems strange that I can't share my Part 1 with my Part 3. Read on to understand:
Part 1:
Last weekend a group of us journeyed all the way to South Bend, IN for an Avett Brothers concert. It was a 6-7 hour car ride and my car spent the majority of the time playing Twinkie and counting the number of mustaches we saw on other drivers. We also saw a woman air-drumming her steering wheel with a toothbrush in hand, and a female truck driver wearing a hijab. We drove through Peru and Kokomo ("We'll get there fast, then we'll take it slow") and saw a big red arrow that said "MEXICO - 1/2 MILE"
We were lucky enough to stay at Annie's relatives for free that night. The house was much grander than what we are accustomed to. We explored the house, and called out to each other as we got lost. As our Notre Dame connection, Trevor Monster gave us a tour of campus and fun facts before Mass at the Basilica (such as: There is more French stained glass in Notre Dame's basilica than in all of France). We then picked our way through the bookstore (after first marveling at a very well constructed igloo outside of a dorm), trying to find the most ridiculous item boasting the Notre Dame logo. Top picks: spatula, golf tees, and a dog's chew toy and bone.
Part 2:
This week was orientation for the new volunteers. On Thursday I rode out east with the McCreary house for commissioning. The ceremony was nice, and much shorter than mine since there were only seven volunteers this time around as opposed to our near-30 group. After the service there's always pizza and coke and brownies and we had ourselves a nice little feast while catching up with everyone. I don't often get to see people from the east side, so it was great to see some of my friends and talk with them. We ended up staying way later than we'd planned, because we had to swing by Johnson house to pick something up and that turned into a two-hour chat fest. We didn't leave til 8 or so, and we still had a two and a half hour drive back. It'd been months since I'd seen most of the east side, and being with them unearthed these old buried feelings of being a part of the greater CAP community. Of course I see people from other west side houses nearly every weekend, but it is rare for both sides to be together, so it's always special when it happens.
Today (Friday) a couple interesting things happened. A man brought in a powder blue toilet "as payback." (His idea, not mine). It is currently sitting in the lobby of my office, waiting for a home. Secondly, I was putting out donated books on this bookshelf we got recently, and I came across a Scientology book. It had a creepy looking sketch of an old man's face and at the bottom said, "SCIENTOLOGY IS HERE TO RESCUE YOU". I felt weird displaying it, so I threw it in the recycle bin for paper. I always have the weirdest things happen to me on Fridays.
Part 3:
Today I was planning on visiting five people, but they all fell through except for one. Still, it was a nice visit, though a little strange. I wasn't invited inside, because the children would be all over me, according to the lady of the house. I caught glimpses of them often, peering at us while we sat at the picnic table in the backyard. They all appeared to be shirtless and their hair was all over the place.
I've helped this family once before. I knew they had seven children and that the babies, twins, had been born prematurely this fall. The mother informed me today that they have a rare genetic disease, and one of the young ones has been diagnosed with Autism, and by the way, they didn't used to live like this. That's really the thing about it: You tend to get in the mindset that all these people were born and raised in poverty because most of them are, and it's just a cycle. But there have been a good number who used to have good jobs and didn't used to be living hand to mouth. Like the woman said today, "It's hard to go from giving charity to receiving it." While we talked a long-haired, tortoise shell, neighborhood cat continued to rub all over us and lick my hand. She reminded me of my cat. By the fence, on the property line, the neighbors' horses came right up, looking to be petted. Next time I will remember to bring some carrots.
Another one of my participants came in today. I hadn't seen her in forever, and now I've been seeing her a lot lately. She's been filling me in on her life like we're old friends. In reality, we've really only had three conversations or so. I like her a lot. She's only three years older than me, but she's raising like five kids, with a baby on the way, plus her two younger brothers, and her husband's young daughter (from a previous marriage) may be moving in soon. She told me that she lived in foster care after her grandmother died. Her social worker didn't look in on her, and she claims to have been beaten by her foster parents if she did try to contact anyone. She got pregnant her senior year and dropped out in April without graduating because she couldn't stand the social stigma. She just got her GED a few days ago. Now she and her husband (who also just got his GED) are attending Somerset Community College. She says she wants to help people, and is currently pursuing a career as a probation officer.
A couple weeks ago I had another visit that I wanted to blog about and never did. This was an elderly lady who claims to have raised half the county because she took in so many children who didn't have anywhere else to go. She lost three of her sons within two years. Two were murdered, and the third committed suicide because he was so depressed over the loss of his brothers.
Something I've noticed: the elderly seem to handle poverty with a certain grace that the younger generations lack. Perhaps because they grew up with it; perhaps because the rich-poor divide was not as great back then; I don't know.
All three of these women are signed up for our Small Farms and Gardens program which is new this year. We're partnering with the local high school to grow transplants. I will provide support through home visits, and hopefully we'll have some canning classes after harvest. I've been making my rounds to see people and get them signed up, and I love it, because home visits are when you really get to know a person. There aren't many guards up and you get to see how people live. I'm really looking forward to continuing to get to know my Gardening participants. We've got a really good group so far!
But as much as I love talking to these participants, particularly the younger lady and the elderly lady, how can I tell them about my weekend in Notre Dame? It seems wrong somehow. What opportunity will they ever have to go there? For many, it's hard enough to get gas money to see me in town. How would they make the six hour journey? I think I've always compartmentalized myself, but it is even more apparent in Appalachia.
Part 1:
Last weekend a group of us journeyed all the way to South Bend, IN for an Avett Brothers concert. It was a 6-7 hour car ride and my car spent the majority of the time playing Twinkie and counting the number of mustaches we saw on other drivers. We also saw a woman air-drumming her steering wheel with a toothbrush in hand, and a female truck driver wearing a hijab. We drove through Peru and Kokomo ("We'll get there fast, then we'll take it slow") and saw a big red arrow that said "MEXICO - 1/2 MILE"
We were lucky enough to stay at Annie's relatives for free that night. The house was much grander than what we are accustomed to. We explored the house, and called out to each other as we got lost. As our Notre Dame connection, Trevor Monster gave us a tour of campus and fun facts before Mass at the Basilica (such as: There is more French stained glass in Notre Dame's basilica than in all of France). We then picked our way through the bookstore (after first marveling at a very well constructed igloo outside of a dorm), trying to find the most ridiculous item boasting the Notre Dame logo. Top picks: spatula, golf tees, and a dog's chew toy and bone.
Part 2:
This week was orientation for the new volunteers. On Thursday I rode out east with the McCreary house for commissioning. The ceremony was nice, and much shorter than mine since there were only seven volunteers this time around as opposed to our near-30 group. After the service there's always pizza and coke and brownies and we had ourselves a nice little feast while catching up with everyone. I don't often get to see people from the east side, so it was great to see some of my friends and talk with them. We ended up staying way later than we'd planned, because we had to swing by Johnson house to pick something up and that turned into a two-hour chat fest. We didn't leave til 8 or so, and we still had a two and a half hour drive back. It'd been months since I'd seen most of the east side, and being with them unearthed these old buried feelings of being a part of the greater CAP community. Of course I see people from other west side houses nearly every weekend, but it is rare for both sides to be together, so it's always special when it happens.
Today (Friday) a couple interesting things happened. A man brought in a powder blue toilet "as payback." (His idea, not mine). It is currently sitting in the lobby of my office, waiting for a home. Secondly, I was putting out donated books on this bookshelf we got recently, and I came across a Scientology book. It had a creepy looking sketch of an old man's face and at the bottom said, "SCIENTOLOGY IS HERE TO RESCUE YOU". I felt weird displaying it, so I threw it in the recycle bin for paper. I always have the weirdest things happen to me on Fridays.
Part 3:
Today I was planning on visiting five people, but they all fell through except for one. Still, it was a nice visit, though a little strange. I wasn't invited inside, because the children would be all over me, according to the lady of the house. I caught glimpses of them often, peering at us while we sat at the picnic table in the backyard. They all appeared to be shirtless and their hair was all over the place.
I've helped this family once before. I knew they had seven children and that the babies, twins, had been born prematurely this fall. The mother informed me today that they have a rare genetic disease, and one of the young ones has been diagnosed with Autism, and by the way, they didn't used to live like this. That's really the thing about it: You tend to get in the mindset that all these people were born and raised in poverty because most of them are, and it's just a cycle. But there have been a good number who used to have good jobs and didn't used to be living hand to mouth. Like the woman said today, "It's hard to go from giving charity to receiving it." While we talked a long-haired, tortoise shell, neighborhood cat continued to rub all over us and lick my hand. She reminded me of my cat. By the fence, on the property line, the neighbors' horses came right up, looking to be petted. Next time I will remember to bring some carrots.
Another one of my participants came in today. I hadn't seen her in forever, and now I've been seeing her a lot lately. She's been filling me in on her life like we're old friends. In reality, we've really only had three conversations or so. I like her a lot. She's only three years older than me, but she's raising like five kids, with a baby on the way, plus her two younger brothers, and her husband's young daughter (from a previous marriage) may be moving in soon. She told me that she lived in foster care after her grandmother died. Her social worker didn't look in on her, and she claims to have been beaten by her foster parents if she did try to contact anyone. She got pregnant her senior year and dropped out in April without graduating because she couldn't stand the social stigma. She just got her GED a few days ago. Now she and her husband (who also just got his GED) are attending Somerset Community College. She says she wants to help people, and is currently pursuing a career as a probation officer.
A couple weeks ago I had another visit that I wanted to blog about and never did. This was an elderly lady who claims to have raised half the county because she took in so many children who didn't have anywhere else to go. She lost three of her sons within two years. Two were murdered, and the third committed suicide because he was so depressed over the loss of his brothers.
Something I've noticed: the elderly seem to handle poverty with a certain grace that the younger generations lack. Perhaps because they grew up with it; perhaps because the rich-poor divide was not as great back then; I don't know.
All three of these women are signed up for our Small Farms and Gardens program which is new this year. We're partnering with the local high school to grow transplants. I will provide support through home visits, and hopefully we'll have some canning classes after harvest. I've been making my rounds to see people and get them signed up, and I love it, because home visits are when you really get to know a person. There aren't many guards up and you get to see how people live. I'm really looking forward to continuing to get to know my Gardening participants. We've got a really good group so far!
But as much as I love talking to these participants, particularly the younger lady and the elderly lady, how can I tell them about my weekend in Notre Dame? It seems wrong somehow. What opportunity will they ever have to go there? For many, it's hard enough to get gas money to see me in town. How would they make the six hour journey? I think I've always compartmentalized myself, but it is even more apparent in Appalachia.
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