Steve and I were in Washington Square Park over the weekend.  It is a place I have returned to since I was a toddler growing up in Queens.  I learned lessons there growing up that have been part of my life forever.  I heard my favorite folk rock songs in the corners of the park in the 70’s when they were new hits on the radio and still hear them today when they are considered golden oldies.  I sat on my grandfather’s shoulders during a rally in the 60’s, swam in the fountain with my two sisters in the 70’s, brought Steve there in the 80’s, picnicked on the lawn in the 90’s, brought Lauren and Bobby to swim in the fountain in the 2000. I always find solitude among many in this small 9 acre park called “my happy place.”

Now if I thought WSP had given me all she had to give, I was definitely wrong.  Steve and I were enjoying honey crisp apples from an upstate farm while sitting on a bench in the park on Saturday. I noticed this disheveled haggard man in a wheelchair, and he was moving his wheelchair backwards towards the long bench we sat on. He came really close to all of us in his wheelchair as he continued backwards the length of the bench.  And as he moved passed each of us, we lifted our legs out of the way so our feet would not be run over.  One by one we lifted our feet out of his way as he scaled the length of the bench.  There were about 40 of us on the bench.  He came very close to each of us.  Close enough so we could see his dirty torn clothing.  Close enough to see his haggard eyes, his tired face, his matted hair.  Close enough to know he needed some kindness.  And we each lifted our legs to get out of his way.

When he reached towards the end of the bench, he got close to a woman eating her lunch from a brown paper bag.  I looked down for a moment and when I looked up I noticed the brown paper bag was now in the hands of the man in the wheelchair.  They said a few words which I am not sure what they were but I do know I saw a glow in the man’s eyes. I saw his face relax and a smile upon his lips.  Although I could not see the face of the woman who gave him her lunch, I knew that her face surely had a glow beaming from it as well.

As the rest of us on the bench pulled away, she leaned in.  As the rest of us protected ourselves, she reached out.  As the rest of us looked away, she looked directly at this person who was struggling and figured out a way to help.  This is who I want to be.  Not only when it is safe and easy and fits into my day.  I want to be a kind caring person in the little moments, when the unexpected opportunity arises, when it is easy to get out of the way and I chose to stay in the discomfort and lean in.

All our neighbors in need are close to my heart. Each one we work hard to try and understand their daily struggles and to figure out how we can provide them with gifts for their life’s meaningful moments to bring them some hope and happiness.

There is one group in particular my heart goes out to most of all. The reason for this is a personal struggle I have had for a long time. I always imagined myself, since I was a teen, being a foster parent to a child going through challenging times. I was never brave enough to do that. I tried. Kiyana, a wonderful child through the Fresh Air Fund joined us for a number of summers. But I just was never brave enough to sign on as a foster parent.

So my heart and deep admiration goes out to those people who step up and provide a home for a child who needs a place to put their head down on a clean pillow and receive some much needed love. In fact, gifts for foster children were the first presents we ever collected in 1995 and we have continued for 26 years.

Today I journey down the Garden State Parkway to deliver your generously donated Target gift cards to a wonderful foster care agency that we’ve worked with for many years. Yes, I could’ve put them in a box and sent it by UPS. Sure, I could’ve asked one of our wonderful volunteers to bring it there for me. But truthfully I wanted to get in my car and take the gift cards and drive them down myself. It was the very least I could do. Maybe next year I can be a little braver and a little bolder and do a little more when there are others who are doing so much.

What I struggle with most is not only that I didn’t become a foster mother it’s that I didn’t even take the first step in the right direction to become a foster mom. There were so many steps I could’ve taken and at any one of them turning back but I didn’t even take the first step and there I find fault with myself.

It has been a lesson that I’ve tried to carry with me where ever I go. If my heart tells me something, let me just take the first step because that is the hardest step to take. There is often many reasons not to do something but very few reasons not to take that first step.

I open the car door and step out to meet the Embrella program coordinator and gently hand her the bag of gift cards. I know it’s not everything these wonderful children need but it’s a first step in the right direction. Something to give them hope for tomorrow and happiness today. And for me, it’s the first step before the next step of being bolder and braver and listening to my heart say what I was meant to hear and actually listening.

-Sari

And A Moment Became A Movement

I often think back to that day in 1995….

       At Willowbrook Mall

       In Wayne, New Jersey

       With Lauren(Age 5) & Bobby(Age 3)

And the questions they asked….

        “Why are people poor?”

        “How did they become poor?”

      “What can we do so they are not poor anymore?”

An opportunity to explain to Lauren & Bobby about….

          Gratitude

          Compassion

          Kindness

 And then we had the conversation…..

         With family.

         With friends.

         With neighbors.

         Everyone cared.

         Everyone helped.

     And continued to do so for 25 years.

AND A MOMENT BECAME A MOVEMENT.

Flames of Giving 1995-2019

Let’s Dine By Candlelight

I learn the greatest lessons of life in the small moments shared with others. I had a conversation with *Casey, a young woman raised by a struggling single mom. She had a happy childhood but knew from a young age that each new toy or gift her mom bought for her, meant extra hours working and away from home. Instead of a cool new outfit or brand new doll, what Casey wanted most of all were those extra moments with her mom.

Casey shared one story that particularly touched my heart. It was an unusually challenging time and a payment was missed to the utility company. Electricity to their home was turned off. Her mom took leftovers from the refrigerator. A cloth was put on their small kitchen table and the dishes were carefully laid out. Then she announced that special for tonight, “let’s dine by candlelight.”

And as they sat around the table, eating, laughing and chatting in the warm glow of the candlelight, forever the memory of this wonderful dinner was emblazoned in this young woman’s heart. Out of adversity and love, came a struggling mom’s creativity that turned a dark evening of loss into a cherished childhood memory. It provided Casey with a role model of resiliency and strength for a lifetime.

It made me realize that when we provide gifts to children in need through Flames of Giving, it frees up struggling parents to be at home with their kids instead of worrying and working extra hours to buy presents for the holidays. Win-Win for all. Kids get gifts. Parents spend more time with their children. And all those who donate have full hearts.

Thank you from all the Caseys and the strong struggling parents who bring light into the dark corners of their lives while coping with financial challenges.

“One small gift. Two happy hearts.”

- Sari

*Casey’s name has been changed to protect her privacy.