It's no secret that Dolores Mission functions primarily on the generosity of the people in LA who have money. As a result, I have attended two fundraising dinners in the last two weeks, have "rubbed elbows" with the "elite" of the community, and have observed the etiquette that comes with asking people for money. I have also observed how the willingness of others to share that with which God has blessed them has helped countless people in Boyle Heights and have been amazed at the readiness with which these people share.
Last night's fundraiser for Dolores Mission's (DM) art program serves as a great example: As they started the recognition/fundraiser portion of the evening (after fabulous hors d'oeuvres, a delicious fajita buffet and an open margarita bar), Father Scott (DM's pastor) shared with everyone that an anonymous person in the crowd made an incredible offer: if the crowd raised $12,500, that person would match the donation, helping DM get half way to their goal of $40,000.
Before the night was over, the event raised $45,000 for the art program. And it wasn't even a huge party - mainly family and friends of DM's art teacher and her parents. While that might seem like a huge budget for an art program, it's a bi-annual budget that covers all art-related expenses, including a newly remodeled art room, supplies and trips to art museums in LA (next week is the field trip to the Museum of Latin American Art, and I'm excited to be a chaperone!!!).
By offering a chunk of their change, these people have enabled DM's kids to express themselves in a positive way. Amid the the junk and violence and hardness in their lives, the kids can become absorbed in creativity and step out of their reality, even just for a little while.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Here at Dolores Mission there is a lot of emphasis put on the idea of "walking with". It's a fairly new concept to me, and every day I am exposed to new ways in which I am "walking with" the people in my life.
Two weekends ago the car belonging to two of the youth I work with (Oscar and Gloria, an 18 and 19 year old couple who are married and have a 6 month old) was stolen. They were in the process of selling it so they could save up the $500 required of them by the shelter they are staying at (the shelter isn't charging then that much to stay there, it's just their attempt at teaching people the importance of saving money...). Since they moved into a new neighborhood, they were in new territory, which meant that area gang members either didn't recognize the car or simply just didn't care and considered its presence an open invitation to claim it as theirs.
So the car got stolen on Sunday and on Monday the kids got a call from the police: Their car had been towed and was in the impound lot. It would cost them $187 to get it back. If it were me, the $187 would be plucked from my not-huge-but-sufficient savings account with a bit of disdain, I would pay the fee, get my car and forget about the whole thing in 2 days. But for Oscar and Gloria just gathering the money was a day-long fiasco that resulted in them borrowing a ten-spot here and a fifty there until they came up with all of it, minus the 20 cents tacked on the end.
Since they didn't have transportation (hello, Captain Obvious), it became my responsbility to help them regain possession of their vehicle. So that night we took the 15 minute drive to the office, waited in line for 15 or so minutes, found out that the car was another 15 minute drive in the direction from which we came, and made our (less than) merry way to the impound lot. Charred metal frames and crunched up steel greeted us as we walked into the lot. Fortunately none of those cars was Oscar and Gloria's. All of us breathed a sigh of relief when we saw their blue Honda sitting peacefully, completely intact save for the missing battery under the hood and absent door knobs which whoever stole the car thoughtfully removed.
The car was okay, Oscar had a spare battery in the back of the car (which, oddly, the jackers didn't take) and was excited to get it home. Then the 6'5, 300 pound impound lot attendant informed us that we needed to go back to the office and get a release form in order to take the car. It was 6:20 and the office closed at 6:30. There was no way we could have made it back in time.
Skip to 8 am the next day: I was waiting in my office for Oscar and Gloria to get there so they didn't have to pay another $34 storage fee. Soon it was 8:30 and I was getting cranky because I gave up my morning plans to help them out. They arrived about 8:45 and we made our (increasingly) merry way down to the office. We only waited 10 minutes this time, they paid their fee and we headed back to the impound lot. Once Oscar got the battery in and hooked up and the same lot attendant helped him get the car started, their clean blue Honda with shiny silver rims was rearing to get on the road.
It's not a glamorous story by any means. And even though I was just the chauffeur for Oscar and Gloria, I wasn't above feeling what they were feeling: The hopelessness of not having enough cash to get their car back; the panic of not knowing if the car would be one of those charcoal skeletons or if it would function; the frustration of bureaucracy; the relief of finding that nothing more will go wrong (for the moment).
And that's what "walking with" is. It's putting yourself in the shoes of the people who are in your life and empathizing with their situation. To have the ability to humble yourself and look at people not as what society tells you they are, but as they ARE takes an incredible amount of self-confidence and practice. I'm not always there, but I'm learning. And that's the best part.
Two weekends ago the car belonging to two of the youth I work with (Oscar and Gloria, an 18 and 19 year old couple who are married and have a 6 month old) was stolen. They were in the process of selling it so they could save up the $500 required of them by the shelter they are staying at (the shelter isn't charging then that much to stay there, it's just their attempt at teaching people the importance of saving money...). Since they moved into a new neighborhood, they were in new territory, which meant that area gang members either didn't recognize the car or simply just didn't care and considered its presence an open invitation to claim it as theirs.
So the car got stolen on Sunday and on Monday the kids got a call from the police: Their car had been towed and was in the impound lot. It would cost them $187 to get it back. If it were me, the $187 would be plucked from my not-huge-but-sufficient savings account with a bit of disdain, I would pay the fee, get my car and forget about the whole thing in 2 days. But for Oscar and Gloria just gathering the money was a day-long fiasco that resulted in them borrowing a ten-spot here and a fifty there until they came up with all of it, minus the 20 cents tacked on the end.
Since they didn't have transportation (hello, Captain Obvious), it became my responsbility to help them regain possession of their vehicle. So that night we took the 15 minute drive to the office, waited in line for 15 or so minutes, found out that the car was another 15 minute drive in the direction from which we came, and made our (less than) merry way to the impound lot. Charred metal frames and crunched up steel greeted us as we walked into the lot. Fortunately none of those cars was Oscar and Gloria's. All of us breathed a sigh of relief when we saw their blue Honda sitting peacefully, completely intact save for the missing battery under the hood and absent door knobs which whoever stole the car thoughtfully removed.
The car was okay, Oscar had a spare battery in the back of the car (which, oddly, the jackers didn't take) and was excited to get it home. Then the 6'5, 300 pound impound lot attendant informed us that we needed to go back to the office and get a release form in order to take the car. It was 6:20 and the office closed at 6:30. There was no way we could have made it back in time.
Skip to 8 am the next day: I was waiting in my office for Oscar and Gloria to get there so they didn't have to pay another $34 storage fee. Soon it was 8:30 and I was getting cranky because I gave up my morning plans to help them out. They arrived about 8:45 and we made our (increasingly) merry way down to the office. We only waited 10 minutes this time, they paid their fee and we headed back to the impound lot. Once Oscar got the battery in and hooked up and the same lot attendant helped him get the car started, their clean blue Honda with shiny silver rims was rearing to get on the road.
It's not a glamorous story by any means. And even though I was just the chauffeur for Oscar and Gloria, I wasn't above feeling what they were feeling: The hopelessness of not having enough cash to get their car back; the panic of not knowing if the car would be one of those charcoal skeletons or if it would function; the frustration of bureaucracy; the relief of finding that nothing more will go wrong (for the moment).
And that's what "walking with" is. It's putting yourself in the shoes of the people who are in your life and empathizing with their situation. To have the ability to humble yourself and look at people not as what society tells you they are, but as they ARE takes an incredible amount of self-confidence and practice. I'm not always there, but I'm learning. And that's the best part.
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