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Writer's pictureJennifer Edgecomb Odom

Helping

Dear Elli,

I'm so proud of you today. 

Today was a sign-up day for Christmas assistance for the Salvation Army in Akron, and I brought you along to work with me. 

Our job was to ask questions and fill out paperwork for families who need some help this year.

You sat at the table next to me for two hours, as family after family came to answer questions and tell us their stories.  You sat there quietly listening the whole time. 

Some people might think you're too young to hear those stories.  To witness pain and poverty.  To help.  But you're not.  You're plenty old enough to understand what the world around you really looks like, way out there beyond our pampered suburban existence.  You're plenty old enough to help.  And you did.

There was one mom who made an especially important impression upon both of us.  She is the same age as me, with four beautiful little girls.  She's raising them alone.  Has never seen a dime of child support. 

She works at a local fast food restaurant, and she works hard.  I can tell from the look in her eyes.  But her neighbors and friends make fun of her for working there, because she's breaking her back for almost nothing.  And things aren't getting much better. 

She wonders if fighting so hard to do better is worth it.  Maybe the people who make fun of her are right.  But it doesn't feel right to stop.  It feels right to work hard, even if it doesn't pay enough to survive.  Even though she wakes up every morning, still living in the projects.  And even though it's so damn hard. 

Last winter she didn't have a car.  She and her girls walked everywhere, mostly in the street because people won't shovel the sidewalks.  At least she has a car now.  They won't have to walk this year, as long as it keeps running.

Her eyes filled with tears.  She was so overwhelmed.  Then she laughed through her tears, saying "I probably need a therapist.  But I don't have time for therapy." 

I didn't know what to say.  I had to look away because my eyes were filling with tears, too.  I asked her to never give up, to never stop fighting.  I told her that she'll make it through. 

She pulled herself together and raised her hand to give me a high five as she got up from our table.  I felt like an ass, because I couldn't find anything better to say than some stupid cliché that she's probably heard a thousand times.

But the whole time we were talking, you were quietly drawing.  And when we were done, you handed her the drawing you had just finished.  It was a picture of smiley faces and hearts.  And after you handed her the drawing, you wished her a Merry Christmas.  

She smiled at you.  A real-life, awesome, bright smile.  Way better than my ridiculous attempt to make her feel better.  You did a much better job than me.  I should've just kept my damn mouth shut and let you handle it.  And for that, I am so proud of you today.

You are a great kid.  And you know that sometimes people just need to be reminded that someone cares.  You did that for her today.  You made her smile, even though she was barely holding it together.

I don't know how life will turn out for that lady, or whether she'll ever have what she fights so hard for every day.  I sure hope she does.  But for all those things I don't know, I do know one thing.  You made her life just a little bit brighter today.  And I'll be proud of you for that forever.

I love you. 

Mom

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