Habichat, June 2008

The Lesson of Gratitude
By Volunteer Coordinator, Jennifer Lawrow

I stood in the food stamp office, in Cumberland Maryland, twisting my knitted scarf between my fingers, waiting for them to call my name. Holding back tears, I browsed though People Magazine, as if I was waiting to see a doctor on a routine visit. I glanced around at the people sitting with me, a young mother with toddler, a man with a long beard and torn coat, and what looked like a college student.

"Jennifer Lawrow?" I stood, quickly putting the People back on the table, "The case worker will see you now." The receptionist rambled off directions to the case worker's office, that I only half heard. The door chimed for me to open it and I went down the hall. My shoes clicked on the tile, the buzz of the lights rang in my ears, I stopped right before the case worker's office and gave myself a pep talk. Pull it together Jenn, pull it together. Stop crying; stop crying stop crying stop crying- breathe. I walked into the office.

"Have a seat, Miss Lawrow," the case worker began. She was a heavy-set woman with short dark hair and squinty eyes. Her teeth seemed to stick out of the front of her mouth. "My name is Shelly; I am the County Case worker." I nodded in response, still struggling to maintain composure. Her office was small and a bit warm for the season; she had kid's drawings hanging up on the windows behind her that said "To Mommy." She had pictures of those kids in frames on the window sill. Her desk was full of folders and papers pushed to both sides. "Well, reviewing your paperwork that you filled out, I am afraid to tell you that you don't qualify for the food stamp program. Your annual earnings are too high for a single female with no kids. Do you have any food in your home now?"

"But I am an AmeriCorps member," I stammered "I don't actually make a salary, it's a stipend, it's not a salary. It's below poverty level for this area.   I don't understand, it's not a salary, I am a volunteer."

"Because these earnings are taxable, we have to count it as income. I'm sorry Jennifer. I suggest that you try the local food shelves." She began searching through her desk, "here is a voucher for the food shelf, its in the basement of Head Start. Just bring this to the volunteers that work there and they will give you some supplies."

I looked down and my knitted scarf that my Aunt had made for me, still twisting it through my fingers, using the fringed yarn to wrap around the tops of fingers, making my fingertips turn red.

AmeriCorps* VISTA is a national program, (VISTA - Volunteers in Service to America), and has been around since 1965, with more than 140,000 Americans serving. Today, nearly 6,000 AmeriCorps*VISTA members serve throughout the country-working to fight illiteracy, improve health services, create businesses, increase housing opportunities, bridge the digital divide, and strengthen the capacity of community organizations. It's mission is to fight poverty. In order to help it's members understand poverty they live at the or below the poverty level of the area we are serving. I understood this idea to mean that not only were we fighting poverty, we were living in poverty to relate to it, to study it and in essence to become a face of it. I chose this in hopes to grow and learn and serve others in the future. I had no idea of how hard it would be.

Cumberland is a rural community with too much poverty.    I found a studio apartment on the edge of Frostburg, a college town about 20 minutes from Cumberland, for about 250.00 a month, not including utilities. The stipend was for about 200.00 every two weeks totaling about 400.00 a month. I was an AmeriCorps* VISTA member.

I took a deep breath. "I need help," I said. "I'm sorry Jennifer; there is nothing more I can do." I went to the food shelf.

The food shelf was located in the basement of the Head Start government sponsored daycare center. I followed the signs to the basement where I was greeted by volunteers.

"You here for food, honey?" an old man in his mid 60's asked. "Come on in, Honey, this is the right place if you're here for food." The basement looked like the church pantry from when I was a child. The walls were lined with old metal shelves, and canned goods. A women was also there to greet me, "Oh don't mind him dear, come on in."

"Thank you."

"Sure dear, here is your bag." She began to explain the system. "Follow me dear, these shelves - you can pick four." The shelves were full of canned tomato sauce, chick peas, and granola bars that once were in a box but removed and sitting separately. "Oh those, dear four count as one item. Now it says that you have no kids and you live by yourself, that's why you get four in case you are wondering. Usually girls like you get the pasta sauce, that's a good find for ya." I put three cans in my bag and four granola bars. "This shelf, you get three items here, you should get some pasta to go with that sauce, mmmm that sauce isn't bad, just add some salt for flavoring, spice it up a little." I blinked back the tears. She noticed and grabbed my hand, "You're alright dear, everyone needs a hand sometimes, right Sam?" she said pulling her husband into the conversation. "Oh yeah dear, everyone at one time or another."

"Thank you," was all I could muster. I wasn't thanking them for the food; I was thanking them for the help, the relief of not worrying for a few days, the care they were showing me. I was thanking them for everything. I couldn't say it then. I don't know if I needed to. Her eyes, looked past my tears, looked past any reasons of why I was there. She didn't know I was an AmeriCorps member, she didn't know the organization I worked with helped keep the food shelf running, all she knew was that I needed help. "Now this shelf you can only pick one item, it's the sweet item, go ahead dear and treat yourself some." She said smiling. I picked the coffee cake and put it into my bag.

"Oh my, what a beautiful scarf, dear simply beautiful."