Providing Shelter for Families At Risk

Part of my journey into writing and blogging recently has included reading through the documentation from Family Services regarding my history. It is a narrative record compiled by various social workers that details the circumstances of several hot line calls and incidents that were reported over a two-year period in my childhood. One striking detail I noticed in many reports was the instability and poor conditions my family lived in during that time. We stayed in the homes of friends, lived in residences without heat, and at times my brother, my dad and I stayed together in one small, dilapidated room of a run-down motel.

I had never really given much thought before to how that instability, that fear over where the next meal would come from or if we would have a place to stay, must have impacted my parents' choices. I can only imagine that the stress of providing for two small and dependent human beings weighed heavily on my mom and my dad. The added stress could easily have blinded them to the risk of our position. How could there be an expectation of protection for children who did not even have an expectation of provision? The insecurity of our existence made us incredibly vulnerable to the potential for abuse.

This is one of the many reasons why I am so passionate about the work my husband, my church and my community does at River of Refuge. River of Refuge is a non-profit organization that is dedicated to helping working poor families get out of pay-by-the-week motels and into stable housing of their own. Over the past several years I have personally witnessed the lives of individuals, families and children be changed forever because of the intervention River of Refuge has provided. Where uncertainty and insecurity once placed these hard working families at greater risk, stability and support now help them to grow together in strength. I am humbled, honored and privileged to see these amazing families reach their potential when they receive thoughtful assistance from this organization.

Even though I only stayed there for a short period of time, I have vivid memories of motel-room living with my dad. I remember how loud it was, with so many people constantly coming and going. The television in our room was on and turned up to mask the shouting almost continuously coming from some other room nearby. I remember my dad, normally friendly with absolutely everyone, quickly and protectively pushing us through the door of our room before strangers could approach to make conversation with us. There must not have been a bathtub that was clean or in good working order, because I remember having to wash ourselves in a small, plastic basin in the room. The room was cold, and we didn't have a good supply of towels or soap or other necessities. Even though at my young age I had no control over the situation I was in, I remember feeling humiliated and embarrassed by those circumstances.

A photo of me around the time we stayed in a motel.

I was incredibly blessed because I had loving, caring extended family who stepped in and provided a different option for me. Many individuals, families and children in our community do not have these resources. In fact, some families spend months or even years stuck, crowded together in one room, lacking access to basic necessities to care for their children. Every child needs a safe place to sleep at night, a place where they will feel at home, safe, secure, sheltered. River of Refuge is working hard to strengthen families and provide that place for children in need in our community. By ensuring stable housing we are removing one more risk factor and lessening vulnerability for these families. Helping a family into long-term, stable housing allows the adults and children in a family to grow, thrive and transform into the people they are called to be.

If you are a part of our local Kansas City metro area community, I hope you will consider joining River of Refuge at their annual Raise the Roof Gala on September 19. This event is an incredible opportunity to learn more about the impact River of Refuge has on families. You will be blessed and humbled to hear stories of how families have transitioned from struggle to security with the help of this organization. You will see what lies ahead for River of Refuge as they move closer to completing a residential space where families will receive support and assistance to get back on their feet with dignity and respect. In addition, you will enjoy an incredible cocktail hour with a silent auction and drawings for amazing prizes like vacation stays, beautiful artwork and event tickets. The night will also feature dinner and entertainment by comedian Michael Jr., fresh off the comedy circuit and ready to make you laugh! You can find all the details and purchase your tickets to help Raise the Roof for families in need by clicking the link below. 

 GALA TICKETS

If you do not live in the KC area, you can still help to make a difference in the lives of these families. I know that I would not be where I am today if individuals hadn't taken action on my behalf. The problems can feel overwhelming, and we don't always know where to begin. We can start taking action today, partnering with River of Refuge to Raise the Roof and provide shelter and stability for families and children. Please visit www.riverofrefuge.com to learn more about this incredible organization and all of the ways you can be involved.

It brings healing to my heart to know that providing education, assistance and stable shelter is changing the memories and rewriting the story for these children and their families, our community and our future. I am so grateful for the opportunity to share this with all of you.

One Night of Shelter

I remember that the house felt warm. It was December, so probably bitterly cold in Missouri. My parents had been separated for nine months, and we didn’t really have anything like a home during that time. When we were with my mother, we had been staying in her friend’s basement.  It was always dark in the basement.  You had to squint in order to see when you came down the stairs. We had also stayed for a short time in the empty house my grandparents had on the market, and it was always cold inside that house. When we were with my dad, circumstances weren’t any better. For a while we lived in a motel room, and I remember shivering while bathing in a plastic basin. When we were with him in a small house, we were often sitting with our feet on the oven door in order to be near a source of heat.

But that night in December, when we stayed with an emergency placement foster family, I remember that the house felt warm. It was brightly lit and cozy. Lamps glowed all over the room and overhead lights flooded the space with blindingly golden light. Maybe that was one reason why my little brother kept crying. Maybe he wasn’t used to the brightness and warmth we felt there. I remember the woman asking me if I knew anything that would help him feel better. He was screaming and crying so hard, his little face all scrunched up, bright red and streaked with tears.

 I asked if they had any books. Josh liked it when I read to him. They handed me a Little Golden Book, The Monster at the End of this Book, Starring Lovable, Furry Old Grover. To this day, it is one of my favorite children’s books. That’s how it is—memory is what ties a book like that to your heart.

So there we sat, in the bright, warm living room on a big, cozy armchair. I was a skinny little girl, barely-five-years-old, with long stringy dishwater blond hair.  He was still a baby to me, just three-years-old and crying for someone and someplace he knew. The grownups helped me as I struggled to somehow pull his body, flailing in a desperate tantrum, onto my lap and I began to read. Josh quieted down, his arms and legs relaxing, his weight settling into me, sniffling and shaking a little as his sobbing ceased.  He began to listen to my voice as I went through the pages, trying to do a Muppet voice for Grover. When we got to the parts where Grover would frantically shout, “No! Stop turning pages!” he would even giggle a little bit.

I’m not sure how many times I read that book that night. I know I didn’t want to stop turning the pages. Everything about that moment felt safe. I cannot see the faces of the adults in that home, or remember anything about their appearance.  I remember them only as shadows, illuminated by the brightness all around us.  I remember the kindness in their voices, the softness of their hands as they guided and directed us, offering all of the comforts of their home.  I remember their concern and desire to calm my brother, rather than ignoring his fears.

I wonder if that family ever thinks of me the way I think of them. Am I a shadow on their memory as well?  Most likely, I was one of many children who received a night of shelter in their home.  I was only another poor child whose circumstances led to the need for an emergency place to stay, a haven and a retreat from the world around them. That day, someone had reported an incident of sexual abuse. I had been taken to the hospital and poked, prodded, questioned and examined. I wore a paper gown and sat on a cold, vinyl hospital examining table, shivering and nodding my head when I was asked shameful, personal questions.  But that night, I was sheltered in a home so well-lit it was able to keep out the darkness.  I was given a retreat from a world with poverty and low-lighting and cold that was hiding darker secrets of touching and shaming and violence.

I don’t know if that family ever thinks of me, but I will always remember them.  I am so grateful for their willingness to open their home to two dirty, terrified children, reeling from the effects of divorce, poverty, sexual abuse and fear. That one night gave me a glimpse into what was possible. Those shadowy figures of compassion and sacrifice gave me hope that I could be in a home like that again. That night was a shield and defense of my belief that life could be different, that it was possible for family and home to be a sanctuary and a place of peace, rather than a continually tense place of fear.

April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month. While I wish my abuse could have been prevented, I believe that the moments of shelter I experienced throughout my childhood are what have allowed me to break free from the cycle of abuse in my own life. Connections with community, people who cared enough to get involved, family who persistently let me know they would be available to me when I needed them, faith communities who showed me the heart of a loving God—these things provided the backbone for me to be able to change my future.

I understand that the problem of child abuse can feel so overwhelming, and the solutions must be multifaceted. There are broad, nationwide issues of poverty, mental healthcare, family support structure, reporting and placement that must be addressed. Yet a simple act that anyone can take is to become more involved with the children and families in their community. Knowing your neighbors, becoming involved in your child’s school, participating in local groups that provide family support—these are simple steps that anyone can take to help provide a network of shelter for children at risk. Because of multiple occasions where individuals, families or groups cared enough to be involved throughout my life, I remain in a place of shelter now.

Don’t see child abuse as the kind of issue that is personal, family-related, or none of your business. Protecting children should be all of our business. We can all be a place of shelter for another child by taking an interest in their life and showing that we care. Find a way to be a place of shelter for a child.  I know that they will be forever impacted by the feeling that someone cared enough to notice them.

For more information on National Child Abuse Prevention month and ways you can get involved, please visit www.childwelfare.gov.