I knew it would come to me, I knew one morning I would wake up and would know what it was I was supposed to do. I am so proud of the result and the work ahead of me, and all the possibilities that that can come from The Literacy for Hope Project.
Below is what I wrote this morning to post on the web site to explain to people who don't know me how this all came about. Please check out the web site: www.literacyforhope.org.
Two things happened in the last few years that brought this project to life. First, I interviewed a woman for a position at my job who had a touching story to tell. Karen was modestly dressed, literate, drove a car, had two children and a husband who worked full time. Unfortunately she didn’t have the necessary skills and I wasn’t able to hire her. But in the course of her interview we began talking and what she said astounded me.
Karen and her family had been homeless the entire time her children were in high school. No one knew, which made the kids lives even more awkward as they tried maintain friendships without revealing their secret. Living in a county where the median income is $76,000 per year, and with their combined incomes of less than $35,000, it took them four years and the generosity of a stranger to help them climb out of homelessness.
I was very touched by Karen’s courage and endurance and what I perceived to be the uniqueness of her situation. In fact I was so moved I made the main character of the novel I was writing a young homeless girl.
This past year my older son spent 4 ½ months in a hospital in TX, eight of those weeks clinging to life in the Critical Care Unit. I lived in the ICU waiting room for many weeks, praying, writing a blog and finishing my novel.
During that time I made friends with a homeless man who showed up a few minutes after 6:00am every day and poured himself a cup of coffee. He was so thin he had to hold his pants up when he walked. I knew he had to be hungry, and while there were many days I lived on peanut butter and graham crackers from the ICU refrigerator, I started leaving him granola bars propped up against the coffee pot. The first time he looked over at me and I nodded. He grabbed the bar and his coffee and left without saying a word.
I left him granola bars everyday, or sometimes when I didn’t have any money I left him the peanut butter and crackers the nurses had given me. He never said a word. One day when he lay his back pack down on the counter, it fell open and I saw a stack of books inside. I thought that was rather curious, but since my perception of the homeless had already changed by Karen’s story, this just added another dimension.
A few weeks went by and one morning the security guard said to me, Lady, don’t feed the homeless.
He isn’t like a wild animal you know, he’s a human, and he’s hungry, I said. By this time my son was getting better and I knew we would be moving out of ICU within a few days, so I kept leaving the granola bars.
On the last day I left the granola bar sitting on top of two books. One was s from Obama’s Dreams from My Father, and the other a more sophisticated book called Angle of Repose. My friend came in, saw the books, looked at me and I nodded. He read the titles and then walked to my table where I was writing and laid Angle of Repose in front of me.
I’ve already read this one. Thank you, he said. Then he turned and left.
That was the last time I ever saw him.
When you go through a life altering experience like my sons and I did, when you think you are going to lose your life, or your child, or your brother, something happens and all the rules change.
Because of our belief in the power of books I wanted to use the written word as a vehicle to offer hope to the weary. The fact that doing this could make even a tiny dent in the decline in book sales our country has experienced over the last few years is an added bonus. It's a win-win proposition.
We have been enormously happy at the response we’ve had in such a short time. It shows a genuine benevolence from people who understand the power of making a difference, one book at a time.
Thank you for your interest. Keep reading, and remember “There but for the grace of God go I.”
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