The Courage to Give. Jackie Waldman
October to December I interviewed all thirty people, and Janis and I wrote their stories. Each day, as I spoke with the folks we profiled here, I learned a new lesson. Their strength, kindness, and inspiration fed my soul. They gave me the energy to finish an entire manuscript within weeks.
Meeting thirty new friends who have endured incredible pain, yet are reaching out and helping so many others, reminds me daily of the miracles of life.
Recently I found a newspaper clipping featuring me as a child with two other children. It was in the Dallas Times Herald, in 1956.I was four years old. The caption reads, “Socks Away—three tiny members of Temple Emanu-El sort through 563 pairs of socks they and fellow church school members have collected for the City-County Department of Public Welfare to give needy youngsters at Christmas. The children gave socks to the program in place of exchanging Chanukah gifts among themselves.”
I cried looking at the joy and love in my little face. At four years old, I had known the peace and joy of service to others. But for so many years, I had forgotten the truth of that little girl. I cried tears of gratitude for the gift of remembering who I really am.
I cried for the miracle of life, for the chance I and we all have been given to offer our unique gifts to the world, gifts born, so often, from our very woundedness.
So now, I invite you to meet my thirty new friends. These are special people—all of whom continue to teach me a lesson I had once known long ago, but had forgotten. These wonderful people have the courage we all need, the courage to see beyond. The admiration and love I feel in my heart for each of them will stay with me always. Their stories have changed me, as I hope they will change you.
I thank God for showing me the way. And I thank these people for revealing their stories to all of us.
CHAPTER1
Be Happy, Be Useful
BEA SALAZAR
THERE WAS A TIME IN MY LIFE when I was in so much physical and emotional pain that I just didn't think I could go on. I spent every day and every night thinking about my pain and how useless my life had become.
Then one morning, I found a little boy in a Dumpster. And the minute I saw him, I realized that there were children whose pain was much greater than my own. God led me to find that child, and to find all the children I've worked with since that day. In working to help those children, my own pain has been diminished. And my life has become a tremendous joy._____________________
Until 1986, I was “Super Mom.” I was a single mother of five children—my husband left us when my youngest was two years old—and I worked very hard to do everything I could for them. My three boys were in high school playing football that year, and my two girls were on the drill team. Life wasn't easy, but my children were doing well, and I was paying the bills. So I considered myself lucky.
I worked the night shift in a factory during those years. I got off work at 7 A.M., and I'd try to get home as fast as I could to see the kids as they were leaving for school. I was so tired that I usually left work with my eyes half-closed. I would undo my bra and take off my shoes in the car. After I said good-bye to the kids, I would nap until three o'clock.
After school, I would pick up the kids, make dinner, feed everyone, and make sure they did their homework. And then I went back to work at 11 P.M.
One day, all that fatigue caught up with me—and my life changed forever. I stood up on a stool at work to change a part in one of the huge machines. But my foot slipped, the stool gave way, and I fell right into the machine. I felt a shooting pain from my groin up to my eyes. Then everything just went black. When I woke up, I couldn't put my legs together. Blood was everywhere. I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance.
The doctors told me I had a separated pelvis and two slipped discs. All I knew was that I was in such horrible pain—suffering that I don't wish on anybody. I had surgery that was supposed to help. But it didn't seem to do much good. I was in constant, terrible agony.
After the accident, I tried to go back to work because we needed the money so badly, but the pain was too severe. I was supposed to get money from the factory's insurance company, but that was tied up for a long time. We almost lost our apartment and our car. My children wanted to drop out of school and go to work to pay rent. But I said no. I had worked so hard to take care of them, and they were all doing so well. I would not let them drop out of school to do the job I was supposed to be doing.
Before too long, I became very depressed. I had no money. I was in constant pain. I was a mother who couldn't even take care of her children any longer. I felt like I was good for nothing.
I started having thoughts of suicide.
Those thoughts scared me, because I knew my children still needed me. So I called a social service agency in Carrollton, Texas, where I lived, and I spoke to a wonderful lady named Anna. She counseled me, and the agency paid our rent and gave us groceries.
Anna was a tremendous help to me and to my whole family. But my pain just didn't seem to get better. One day, when the kids were at school, I sat in my bedroom with the door closed and looked at a bottle of my pain pills.
“What if I took all these pills at one time?” I thought.
At that moment, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. Then I started to cry, thinking about my children and the fact that I just didn't want to suffer anymore. Right then I heard someone knocking at my door. The knocking kept going on and on. Finally I had to get up to answer the door.
There was Anna. I started to cry. God had sent her to me. She had saved my life.
Anna checked on me three times a day after that. She made sure I showed up for counseling. She really helped me. After a while, I began to handle my pain better, and I began to feel better mentally, too. Even after Anna stopped coming to see me because she had taken another job out of town, I could tell I was getting better. I started to think that maybe I did have a future. I still wasn't able to go back to work, but I was able to do more and more for myself and my children, and more chores around the house.
It was one of those chores that changed the course of my life.
I had gone outside to throw the trash away, and I heard something moving in the Dumpster. When I peered over the edge, I saw a little boy from a nearby apartment in there. He was digging around in that garbage looking for something to eat. I had never seen anything like that in my life.
I got him out of the Dumpster and took the piece of dirty bread he had found out of his hand and threw it away. Then he started to cry, and I realized he wanted that bread because he was hungry. So I took him into my apartment and I made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Then I sent him home.
I was still thinking about that poor little boy about fifteen minutes later when someone knocked on my door. When I went to open it, I saw six five-year-olds standing there.
“Is it true you're giving peanut butter sandwiches away?” one of the little boys asked me.
“No, I'm not,” I said. “But if you're hungry, come on in. I'll feed you.”
So I fixed them all peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and I sent them all home. The next day I had thirteen hungry kids at my door. And I made some more sandwiches.
Then I started asking some questions. I asked people why there were so many hungry children in our neighborhood. And they explained that these children got free lunches at school. But this was June and school was out, and so they didn't have anyone to give them lunch. Their parents worked, and they had to wait until their parents came back at night to eat.
I couldn't imagine it. I had worked so hard to provide for my own kids. And I was still trying hard to provide—by this time I was on disability insurance. I realized that I had been so busy taking care of my own five children that I hadn't noticed the needs of the other children right around me.