Saturday, April 19, 2008

East Meets West

The other day I was blog-surfing and found a blog with a corner banner on it that intrigued me.

So I did what any other curious cat would do and clicked it. Which took me here.

And as I clicked through the site, and other explanatory links on it, I felt a kindred spirit well up through cyberspace and whisper to my heart, "Namaste'."

So, maybe I'm the first to take a NYC phenomenon out West, but I'm doing it. You'll see the revolution button permanently on my sidebar, and I'm also taking Krystyn's HopeNotes and going to post them around with love.

In the meantime, dear internets, it has come to my attention that I managed to forget posting a bulletin article I put together for my church here...I think it is fitting with this idea of a Hope Revolution:

I will never forget the last day of my Child Pscyhopathology and Exceptionality class at CSU. At the front of the room stood my professor, telling a heart-wrenching story about working with a boy who had been horribly abused. I sat in the room, newly pregnant and bawling, as this man stood before us with tears in his eyes, face screwed up, explaining that sometimes the hardest part of working with kids [in "the system"], "is not knowing if you told the truth when you told a kid that ‘everything would work out.’"
Later, I would discover that this haunting phenomenon occurs in any realm of social work, not just with kids. Very rarely do social workers get to see the start to finish in the lives of those whom we’ve intervened.

Similarly, many of us are sowers of seeds. Unlike shepherds, who are given time to spend every day watching over their flocks, nurturing, protecting, and leading them; God provides those of us who are sowers with opportunities to scatter the seeds of His love. Sometimes these opportunities arrive with time to prepare the soil, but often things happen so quickly, we can do little more than throw the seeds out in faith, pray for roots to take place, and find ourselves being presented with new opportunities. Like a social worker, a sower doesn’t always get to see the harvest of these efforts. In those instances, we must embrace the adage heard at 12 Step groups across the globe: “Let go and Let God.”

I haven’t done direct services work for about 4 years now, but still God hands me opportunities, and He’s impressed upon my heart that my role in the Kingdom is that of a sower. Recently, He blessed me by sharing a glimpse at the harvest with me.

Last month*, I’d taken a day off from work, frantically cleaning my house before my in-laws came to visit. As I emptied a basket of papers, one fell on the floor. I picked it up and started to toss it in the recycle bin when I saw the name and phone number scrawled across it out of the corner of my eye: Jean A, Golden.

Jason, I thought. I wonder how he’s doing?

[the following is context, in the event you are a new reader and/or you choose not to follow the links]

Jason is a man who crossed our family’s path
one cold night in October, just outside of JAX. He’s an alcoholic. That night he’d found himself homeless, and drunk beyond all possibility of finding shelter. We put him up in a motel that night, and I offered to get him the help he would need for the subsequent days, provided he would follow through. He’d had me call his mother, Jean, just to let her know he was ok. Unfortunately, Jason chose to drink the next night and I had to uphold my stance that I would not continue helping him if he wasn’t willing to do some of the leg work. A few days later he’d called me to thank me for the help we’d given him. He’d ended up going to detox and later to a residential treatment program in Denver.

In January, I got
yet another call from Jason. Now sober, he was calling to tell me he’d been “working his steps,” that he realized just how much we’d done for him in very little time together, and that he was forever grateful.

So here I was in February, looking at his mother’s phone number. Coincidence? Probably not, I decided. So I called Jean. And got voice-mail.

Maybe you should just hang up. It’s kind of strange, you know?


“Uh, hi, Jean. This is Heather Meyer in NOCO Town. We talked this fall after my family met Jason. Anyway, funny story, I just came across your number and felt compelled to call and check in with you, see how Jason’s doing. I wish you all the best.”

Within minutes my phone rang.

It was Jean.

She was not the same defeated mother I had talked to in October. She sounded hopeful, as she told me that Jason had completed the in-patient part of his treatment – a milestone which had previously remained elusive in his attempts at sobriety.

She continued, proudly rattling on that he’d found a church, was faithfully attending AA, and most miraculous of all, he and his brother were working together after a decade of estrangement!

I could hear her choke up on the other line, “Heather, you and your family have been an answered prayer. My son has come home in every sense of the word.”

Humbly, I corrected her. "Jean, I was only a vehicle through which God could answer your prayers. I had no idea that something so small would amount to such a huge victory."

Praise be to God! And thanks to all of you who joined us in praying for Jason this fall.

*February....I wrote this in March, but the conversation took place in February

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved


  1. The older I get, the longer hormones last. I cried. Very touching.

  2. Thanks so much for spreading hope on your blog. Take pictures! I'd love to see your work in action. :)