Donating Talents and Trades to Raise Money Blesses Recipients and the World

I am always deeply touched when I hear of people, past or present, who use their talents or trade for charity to help the needy. Around Christmas time, I learned more of the history of George Frederic Handel's Messiah. Then, very recently, a publication of short stories came out. Three of my closest friends are contributors to the book. When I learned that its proceeds are being donated to the research and development of a vaccine for type one diabetes, I was reminded of my intention to write a blog about Handel's charity work. So, what better way to talk about both than to combine them into one blog.

Handel's debut performance of Messiah was in Dublin in 1742. It was also a charity performance to raise money to free men from debtor's prison. Debtor's prison held men that had committed no crime but found themselves unable to pay their debts within the pre agreed time. The charity sponsors wanted to raise as much money as possible, and so requested that the women not wear hoops in their skirts and the men to leave their swords home so as to squeeze in more patrons. The people were immediately touched by the music they heard. The benefit was more successful than anticipated, raising 400 pounds, enough to free 142 men from prison.

Messiah's debut in London was under similar circumstances. Handel was visiting a children's orphanage that was just beginning to be established and was in need of public support for funds. Handel was undoubtedly impressed by the creativity of the founder in marketing public support for the orphanage. The founder was an artist by the name of  William Hogarth. He initiated public interest by first making the orphanage an art museum. Hogarth donated his own work and commissioned the work of cohorts to display in the building. It quickly became a popular art exhibit, as London had none at the time. While passersby viewed the art, they would also see the children at meal time and singing in the choir, which led to increasing donations. Handel likely saw this as a great need and benefit for the children, who would have had no other place to go, abandoned by young unwed mothers who couldn't care for them. He likely also saw it as an opportunity to give his beautiful, inspired work a starting place where he could avoid the cost of renting a theater and supplying costumes and wages for performers. Back then it was the composer's job to fund all these things, and if the piece wasn't popular, it quietly dissipated dying and unappreciated, leaving the composer in debt. Messiah, we know, proved to be very successful originating its performances under the shelter of charities.

Was is selfish or hypocritical for Handel to benefit from his charitable work with the children's orphanage? I think not. If it weren't for the orphanage and his debut performance in Dublin for the debtor's prison, the world might not have Handel's Messiah. And I believe Handel did not do it with that as his primary intention. Because his debut in London was so successful, he made it a yearly tradition to perform there. Over the years until he died, Handel raised seven thousand pounds for the children's orphanage, improving their quality of life and happiness. He even gave the music and performing rights to the orphanage in his will so that the yearly fundraiser could continue after his death.  I personally am extremely grateful Handel's Messiah made it past the trying beginning stages and was not swept under the rug. I feel renewed hope in life every time I listen to it. Millions of people have been touched by Messiah for 273 years and counting.

Using Handel's example of charity as a backdrop, I would like to announce the release of Secrets and Doors, under the charity called The Secret Door Society. This group is one that uses writing to look outward to the needs of others, just like Handel did with his talent of composing music. Its mission is to help fund the research that will lead to the development of a vaccine for type one diabetes. It is usually diagnosed in children and young adults.  There are 11 authors who contributed short stories for this book, some of which are making their debut here. Remember the patrons who visited the orphanage so that they could see the art museum? They visited because it captured something they were interested in - beautiful art. They visited later because they enjoyed Handel's talent. If you enjoy reading, do it while simultaneously helping a very good cause and giving someone a chance to show their talent that could benefit the world.

Sources:

Secrets and Doors (Amazon link to view and purchase)
 Handel's premier performance freed 142 men from debtors prison in Dublin
Handel's charity work in improving the lives of Orphans in London

Appreciating Others' Stories and Struggles

After I wrote my post yesterday on deployment blessings, I read a book of beautifully written accounts of the experiences of a midwife by the name of Jennifer in the 1950s East London slums. This book has frankly filled me with horror at the poverty that existed and exists in the world. Truly, reading about the difficult lives that people endure in poverty has reminded me that I have absolutely nothing to complain about. One story touched me particularly. As Jennifer was about the duty of delivering babies and checking on patients, she frequently met an old woman who always appeared outside the homes of women who were giving birth right at that moment. Jennifer describes her as being haggard in appearance, revolting, possibly senile, and a nuisance. The old woman would grab the midwives' sleeves and ask earnestly if the baby was safe and healthy, and would not drop it until she received an answer.  Jennifer bore her presence and answered her questions only to be relieved of them and send her on her way.

One day, Jennifer was asked by a doctor to visit an old woman that had come to his attention, check her heart and see if she could improve her living conditions. As she made the housecall and met the patient, she found that it was Mrs. Jenkins, the old woman. She lived in literal darkness, had no bed, only dirty rags for clothes, and the only light that made its way in was from a hole in the roof. She had no food. I loved seeing Jennifer's judgment slowly but surely turn to love and compassion as she and the nuns she worked with arranged for her to have nice, clean clothes, a new chair and bed, patched the roof, and give her a bath. The poor woman's shoes were stuck to her feet, and it was a painful process to remove them. Jennifer learned of the woman's history and why she worried so much about the babies. In addition to being physically cared for, she was able to confide her dark past in bits and pieces to people who loved her and who she knew wouldn't harm her.

I love true stories because they are often shining lights of humanity in the midst of so much darkness in the world, proof that there is good in the world. True stories are often heartbreaking stories, but I'm grateful whenever someone's moments of deepest testing have found their way to the page to offer more good to others who read it, and hence giving their experiences even more purpose.  It made me so happy to see someone reach out to Mrs. Jenkins and show her some good after all the tragedy that was her life.

Deployment Blessings

Having a deployed husband is tough stuff. We met very young. I was 13 and he was 16. By the time I was 14 and he was 17, we had become very good friends. I remember when he told me that he had enlisted in the Utah Air National Guard and I had a horrible sinking feeling that this was going to affect me. Looking back I see that was a strong premonition that he would one day be my husband and I would have the life of a military wife, which wasn't appealing to me at all. That was something I spent the next 15 years dreading, from age 14 to age 29 when he finally got deployed for the first time. That was 2010. He left three weeks after my dad passed away and we had four children, ages 18 months to 9 years. It was the first time facing two of my greatest fears...losing a parent and being without my husband simultaneously. People ask me if this current deployment is harder or easier than the first one. Well, both. Luckily I don't have to experience the loss of my dad again, but this time we have 5 children and there are a lot more responsibilities on my shoulders. And it's a longer deployment. But I'd have to say overall, this one is easier. But both deployments were and are blessings to our family. The blessings have been many, but one I would like to focus on is gratitude for the service that has been given to me.

I would like to list as many things as quickly as I can that people have done for us.

The young men in my ward (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) took it upon themselves to keep up on my yard this summer.

My mom gave my children two turns each to go out with her, one on one, to eat dinner and pick out a gift. They needed that extra love and attention so much and looked forward to it so much.

My sister took my kids in various numbers and combinations throughout the summer...even all five of them at one time for a weekend. (I didn't have trouble wondering what to do with my time...I shopped, baked and ate cupcakes, and watched movies. I still revel in the memory of the house to myself.)

My friends have sent me texts and have given me frequent encouragement, and have taken me out to dinner.

My visiting teachers have helped me so much by taking turns giving my sweet little 5 year old boy a place to go once a week throughout the summer where he could feel calm and happy and showered with attention.

I have taken a few people up on various offers for help here and there, and found that their offers were genuine. One of these was a neighbor I asked to install a light for me and he did it happily and made quick work of it.

My kids...they have stepped up in ways that amaze me. It is a constant struggle for balance not to let them do too much and overwhelm them. They have seen how much they are needed. I don't give them jobs to fill their time and teach them how to work. I give them jobs because, if they don't do it, it just won't get done. They have babysat so much and have been so wonderful. Not that home life is perfect, but we have had many growing opportunities together because of our need to depend on each other.

My home teacher helped my son make an emergency chicken run (didn't know the baby chicks couldn't go in with the full grown chickens...ya I don't do research very often.)

A dear friend of mine is giving me a homemade hand towel that looks like a little baby dress for my kitchen..one a month for every month my husband is gone. Like a child, I have started opening the door on the first day of each month looking for my gift. She and my sister in law shared the caring of my baby for a weekend so I could take my other four camping.

My brother and sister spent a weekend helping me with my kids on said camping trip. We had fun, didn't we, guys? All things considered.

My mother-in-law stayed with my kids so I could attend my neighborhood's annual book club retreat.

My father-in-law accompanied my 11 year old son on a scout camp in which the attendance of a father was required.

A friend brought me a delicious meal.

My sister in law planned some activities for a cousin day, took me out to dinner another time, and another sister-in-law took my son out for the day with her own kids to give him a much needed break from his siblings.

My husband is my greatest support. He always sends me an email to wake up to, giving me encouragement to face the new day. He never gives up on me even when I tell him honestly of the darkest of days that inevitably creep in. Sometimes when I feel like I'm failing and that I'm hopeless to conquer anything, I think of his unconditional love and his kindness and understanding, that he's always on my side, and I think, "God has to be at least this good, and feel at least the way towards me as my husband does, because He is perfect."

I am humbled by the goodness of those around me. I know there are many, many people going through things I could never dream of, yet the service I have received to lift my burdens helps me feel that my trial, though seemingly small in comparison to many others, has value and merit. I want to also thank everyone for being patient with my limitations. It is hard to be the recipient of so much love and help from others and then, in turn, be compelled to say no sometimes, when an opportunity to do something above and beyond the care of my children and home would take more from my physical and mental reserves than I have to give. Understanding from others on this point is an act of love in and of itself. But even with my limitations of time and energy, I am finding that there is always time to be thankful, to choose love and understanding over judgment, and to ask and really listen to others' hearts and struggles, and to always believe in others' ability, including my own, to learn and improve a little each day.  

Pass it On

Last night my husband and I stole away for an hour-long, just-down-the-road mini date. That's what we usually resort to now. Our kids are at that tricky stage where they're old enough to babysit their younger siblings, but only under ideal conditions, yet too old to be babysat themselves. So last night the ideal conditions lined up. Luckily my three year old was very helpful in that regards. He was throwing up all day (the fact that the day before was Halloween is NOT a coincidence), and therefore was very happy to go to bed at 6:30. He even asked to go to bed, which never happens. This rare phenomenon is what prompted us to consider going out in the first place. He is the biggest trouble maker and the most difficult for my 11 year old to handle. Step one in creating ideal conditions: get three year old to bed. Check.

Step two is actually want to go on a date. This step can be difficult to accomplish when both of us are irritable and tired from an infant waking up all night. So step two was shot. But you already know we went out on a date, so basically we skipped step two. Because if the three year old is asleep, we'd be stupid not to go.

Step three is make the kids repeat these words: "we will not fight or get into trouble while you're gone." Then believe them and make a run for it. Step three is easy if you're willing to be in denial and deal with the consequences when you get back.

With everything seemingly in place, we loaded up the baby and took off. We went to a quiet Thai place, talked here and there, tried to feel excitement that we were out alone together with a baby. Pretty soon the phone started ringing and our kids informed us that Corbin woke up and he was not happy. We called the waitress over and asked for a box and our check. She smiled and said, "you're free to go any time. Your meal has been paid for." We dropped our jaws and asked her who it was. She said, of course, they wished to remain anonyous. But that's still the first question that comes out, right? She handed us a note from our benefactors: "This is a random act of kindness. Pass it on. God bless and have a great evening."

I was touched and surprised by this act of kindness. Many thoughts crossed my mind. My first thought was how easy it is to ignore each other and think only about our own lives. It takes an intentional and purposeful effort to look around and realize we share the world with a lot of people who have lives and struggles and worries too. Naturally I was reminded to notice other people better and actually pass it on as the note said. The second thought I had was that anonymity has a unique effect. It breaks down any subconscious biases that may exist against each other. It helps us see past a person's exterior and wonder, "was this the person that was so kind? Was that the person?" Anonymity grants the credit for the good deed to EVERYONE.

The free meal made our night. My husband and I were both touched by it. We felt important and that we mattered to someone. When someone goes out of his or her way to be so kind, you want to be kind back, to your spouse, your kids, yourself, a stranger. It was just what we needed that night to get over a slump. I even was very calm when we came home to spilled red gatorade all over the carpet.

We will pass it on and I'll write a post about it when I do!

This is True Love

In a care center not far from my home resides a unique woman. This woman is in her sixties. She has been in the care center since she was thirty. She had had a stroke that left her paralyzed except for a little movement in her hands and neck. She can talk with much difficulty. Most people don't have the patience to wait long enough for her to finish a thought, as her speech comes very slowly and painstakingly, and is laregly unintelligible to the hurried listener.

She receives visits from time to time from her childhood friend, my mother-in-law. During one of her visits, my mother-in-law said  to her friend, "I'm so sorry you've had such a hard life." In response, her friend replied, "I don't have a hard life. Everyone takes care of me and I don't have to do anything." What a wonderful attitude that must have been the product of the painful years of a personal refiner's fire. Her attitude is one of the things that make her unique. This is coming from a woman who has been in the care center for thirty-five years and counting. She has been in the care center longer than she hasn't. I would guess she doesn't have such a wonderful attitude all the time, but one simple statement in a brief conversation, especially in this situation, is powerful. It would have been very easy to start crying and say, "I hate this. Do you know how many times I've wished I could die?" Maybe she said that some at the beginning. But she didn't say it now.

Her nightmare started just days after she had given birth to her fifth child. As my mother-in-law unfolded the story about her childhood friend and I realized that this woman had been married and had children, I felt a strong sense of sorrow for her. She didn't get to raise her children. She was deprived of a life in the world of the living, where people take action and make things happen and live. My thoughts went next to the spouse she had had. I assumed they had divorced so that he could go on with his life. I asked about him, and to my surprise (and shame) she reported that they are still married and not only are they married, but he visits and reads to her every night. In the beginning he tried to take care of her in their own home, and, realizing that she needed around the clock care and that it was more than he was physically capable of providing, he moved her to a care center. But he didn't abandon her. He raised his five children alone. He took her to the temple once a week until her health wouldn't allow her to do so. But always he comes. Every day faithfully.

Recently this couple's family and friends organized a reunion in their behalf. My mother-in-law was in attendance and witnessed a formal honoring of this devoted husband. At the close of receiving what I imagine was an abundance of honor and praise, he stood to speak. He stated tactfully yet kindly, in so many words, that the honor bestowed upon him was unnecessary. "This is just what you do when you love someone." He said that though his wife may not be as outwardly beautiful as she once was, to him, she was beautiful. Besides the good attitude she chooses to have, her husband's love for her is the other thing that makes her unique.

Blessed is the man or woman who is the recipient of such devoted love, but ours is the choice to love someone so devotedly.

Lunch for the Homeless, as told by my brother

I asked my brother if I could share one of the stories I remember him telling when I a teenager and younger. He is one of those gifted storytellers that you just want to listen to all night long in front of the campfire. I remember a family reunion where we were all sitting around said campfire and were taking turns telling stories, except it was all one story. Where one person left off, the other would begin. My brother has a great balance of creativity/imagination and scientific knowledge, so when it was his turn, it was always very interesting. He could bring the 5 year-old's contribution to the story (then a fairy appeared and they flew up to the rainbow) back on track to the cool Star Trek-flavored plot that had us all ears. But he also has some stories that are valuable in their own way because they are real and show goodness and humanity.  The following story is lacking in the exciting, mind-boggling scientific phenomenon, but it is perfect in its simplicity.

I decided to post this in his own words. He didn't change his name, so I'll change it for him. Let's call him Fred. Short for Frederick, which is very classy. Because my brother is a classy person. Now my other siblings can try to figure out who Fred is. (But the Star Trek hint probably gave it away.)

Today as I was waiting in line at the food court, a homeless person approached me and in a very unassertive manner asked me..."if I could help him out." I asked specifically what he needed. The conversation went something like this:
Fred: What do you need?
Homeless Person: (pauses...) I would like a sandwich.
Fred: (Eying the McDonalds on the other side of the food court) How about a Big Mac?
HP: Well, (stammers...) could I have a milk shake instead?
Fred: Sure, anything you want, just name it.
HP: How about a large vanilla milk shake?
Fred: Is that it? You do look pretty hungry.
HP: Could I have a large milk shake and a Big Mac?
Fred: Sure, let's go get it for you.
We then went over to McDonalds and I purchased what we had agreed. I've never seen a more thankful person.

I don't understand what it is like to be truly hungry and destitute. I am thankful I don't. It makes me feel good to think of that man who received a warm meal. I don't know to what extent the man's circumstances were a result of his own poor choices or simply a rough hand dealt at no fault of his own. Thankfully that is not asked of us to determine. I only think of the scripture in Matthew 5:42: "Give to him that asketh."

The Gift of Introspection

Here's a story you don't hear everyday. I read this story in the Deseret News on August 15, 2011 in an article entitled "Act of forgiveness set Iranian woman free". I clipped it and saved it in my journal. It's the story of a woman by the name of Ameneh Bahrami who refused a man's proposal of marriage. He retaliated out of humiliation by pouring acid on her face, blinding her and disfiguring her once beautiful face. Even though women are largely not respected in the Middle East, the law still provided that she could execute justice, an eye for an eye. Literally. And she was given the go ahead to do this on live television. I didn't see it, but according to the article, she was about to follow through with her revenge when she changed her mind at the last minute. She chose to forgive him and show him some mercy. She did  not pour the acid on his face, and he left the spotlight unharmed. The article discusses how her act of forgiveness set her free, undoubtedly planting peace in her heart that giving the man justice couldln't touch. But I found myself wondering about the man. Was he changed by her act of love? If he has any decency in him at all, he couldn't help but be changed. Maybe he'll think twice before hurting someone so cruelly again. I admire Amaneh for making it possible for him to receive such a gift. Not just the gift of retaining his sight and supposedly good features, but the gift of introspection.

It reminds me of the story of Jean Valjean in Les Miserables. Unjustly imprisoned, he found that upon his release he was bitter and lacked the integrity he may have had at one time. Destitute, he petitioned a kindly priest for a bed for the night. The priest granted his petition with full trust. The priest wasn't blind to the nature of the man whom he was letting into his home, but undoubtedly he saw good and potential in Jean Valjean. Valjean, true to the nature imbred in him, made off during the night with a sack full of the priest's valuables. He was caught by the police and brought back to the doorstep of the home he had robbed. The priest held his life in his hands. He looked at Valjean, thought for a moment, and replied to the officer that he had, in fact, given the belongings to Valjean as a gift. Valjean was stunned. The officer let him go. Valjean was stunned at what had just happened, and he walked away a changed man. The priest had given him the gift of introspection.

I hope the unnamed Iranian man sees life differently now, and that he uses his eyesight to help rather than to hurt. But that is a side of the story we'll likely never hear. So, it remains to apply some self-introspection based on the side of the story we did hear. It is simply: do I forgive enough? If Amaneh can forgive on the grand scale she did, I can forgive more quickly on a small scale. And regardless if our forgiveness extended changes someone else, it allows for more happiness and peace of mind in ourselves.