Finding Peace for the Children, Young and Old

I usually write about or interview Peace organizations made up of Israelis and Palestinians. These are some of the best people on the planet. Are they perfect? Nope, we’re all human which means we screw up now and again, hopefully we learn. Some are doctors and nurses. Others used to be combatants. Many have been hurt by the “other” in the most unforgiveable way…they’ve lost a child. I don’t know that I could be that forgiving. Yet, they realize that neither side is going away, if there is to be a future, they must find a path to get along together and move forward.

The purpose of my vodcast, PEACE with Penny is to get these Peace organizations to be known. There are hundreds of Peace activists doing essential work from every avenue whether science, art, music, education, sports, medicine, transportation, the list is endless in the ways Peace is worked on. Check out my PEACE with Penny interviews on our YouTube Channel or at www.PennySTee.com After 3^1/2  years we have quite a library of inspiring videos. It’s surprising how as each participant talks about their scientific project, or plays a game of chess, as they meet the “other” often for the first time, that they are dumbfounded to discover they have so many similarities, talking to what they thought was the enemy. Dialogue is much more than hummus and wine, it’s effective and hopeful!

Perhaps these parents take these positive steps made in honor of their beloved child. They weren’t able to protect their precious youngster, but now they do what they can to stop this horrific dance of unimaginable terror called war. BRING THE HOSTAGES HOME! The hate created by the continuous loop of revenge is endless and useless. Peace is the only way.

But I said this would be a different kind of Peace that I’m writing about. It is about children and the need for Peace within, no matter how old. Unfortunately, with all the positives in the world, there still is the heartbreak of how children are sometimes treated. So many need to be wrapped in a blanket of Peace. Until I was home and contemplating all that had happened, I hadn’t realized the personal impact this experience had on me.

We recently met with sixty-six foster children, aged from five to teenagers, for a program called Childspree. An annual day where volunteer shoppers meet with foster kids, supplying clothes and backpacks filled with school supplies to help them proudly start out the new back-to-school semester. The usual suspects were there from our congregation, Jews who repeatedly live up to our obligation to make the world a better place.

Who knows what each child’s story is? None deserved to be a foster child, but here they were. Children far too often pay the price of their parents’ oblivious choices. As I wrote this blog, I stopped to look further and what I found broke my heart. For whatever reason the child was removed from the home, the abuse doesn’t stop there. The foster system is broken and these kids are paying the price. On any given day nearly 437,000 children are in the foster system, 60,000 in California which has the largest number of kids in foster care. I found that in statistic after statistic, these children were often moved 3-5 times during their stay in foster care and it is reported that for each time they moved they lose 4-6 months of academic progress. Only 50% of children in foster care will finish high school. You don’t have to be a social worker to know that with these statistics, their futures look bleak. I was glad that at least for today, we were able to bring some joy and needed support into their lives.

Childspree is a yearly adventure from our synagogue, founded for a decade by Kim, a  congregant with a heart of gold and a singing voice of an angel. This was the eleventh event. Yearly, the $175 for each child is raised, and we meet at Macy’s to shop with the children. This year, twenty-four of Macy’s employees volunteered on their own time to help with the decorations and shopping questions. After shopping, each child would also receive a backpack with $120 worth of school supplies.

For the first time, the Elf foundation was involved and gave out piggie bears along with reusable tote bags, story books and coloring books that are written in English and Spanish.

We each greeted a child who was randomly assigned to us. We were told to try and say their name at least three times throughout our time together. These kids, so deprived by the happenstance of life, that to be acknowledged by their name could mean so much to them. I’m such a mush bag, I had to remind myself, NO TEARS!

I’d heard the entreaty before for other volunteer work, I’d done through the years. I wasn’t surprised, but a pain shot to my heart, and I thought, there but for the grace of God go I. The twinge reminded me of a story my mother told when I was young that she thought was funny. She said, “I wanted to have another child, so I poked holes in the condom!” My father didn’t think it was so funny. There were three of us. My stepbrother, my mom’s son who is thirteen years older than me, left for the Navy when I was only four. My older brother had his own tragic story. May he rest in Peace.

I’ve never been sure what exactly happened, but I know at least for the start of my life, I lived at Mrs. Woods’ home, a foster lady who lived on the other side of the block. The only picture I have of me as a baby is in a crib lined up in a row, with other babies. My mother said it was because instead of a delivery room, I was born at the hospital in a regular bed. As the story goes, my mother was contracting in pain, apparently making too much noise, and the nurse told her to be quiet. With that, my mom says she pulled back the covers and yelled back, “Well then tell my baby to be quiet!” Then my mom got much needed attention.

My mom said that because of the trauma of my birth, she was unable to take care of me, so Mrs. Woods helped out. She told me I was only there a couple of weeks. Who knows? What I do know is the picture of the baby in the crib was not of a newborn. As the saying goes, if my parents knew better, they would have done better.

I realized; these kids could have been me. My own long-buried wound had peered out from my heart. It had been years since I thought about my beginnings. I gently slipped it back inside.

The kids arrived with their social worker or parent. To break the ice, I had breakfast with “Maria”. Maria was a Hispanic child, somewhat overweight, dressed in jeans and a crop top. A normal teenager, who needed a visit to the dentist to get her teeth cleaned and if she was really lucky, straightened. I wondered if that was ever going to happen. She was going into the ninth grade and to high school for the first time. I asked her if she was excited to go to a new school, and she replied, “Yes,” although later she confided that she had moved many times in her young life and I wondered if she had any baggage of going to a new school that she was carrying with her—another twinge to my heart. As I had discovered above, moving these kids repeatedly is a cruel foster system chess game, no child should have to endure. Her favorite subject is English. I told her that I could relate to that. I love shopping for just the right word. She continued that sometimes she writes stories. It made me smile. Similarities between people regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, etc., can always be found. People are just people.

Once we began shopping, I was so grateful to Macy’s for so many 40%-50% off sales racks, helping the money to go so much further. Our goal was to be sure we found an entire outfit and any additional clothes was a bonus. A few times during our two-hour shopping spree her social worker would appear to check on how things were going. Gratefully, it was fine. Maria would search through the clothes, and as she found prospects, I would hold them for her. When she went into the fitting room, I waited outside. I was relieved when she came out and told me that all the clothing she had chosen, fit. Maria was sweet, quiet, and polite. I’m sure it must have been awkward for her shopping with a stranger, and I tried to make it as comfortable as possible.

Concentrating on sale items, we did quite well. We were able to purchase two tops, a pair of jeans, socks, shoes (the Nikes were of course, the most expensive but on sale, $70, whohoo!), and a cute pajama set that she had confided she really needed. At the cash registers, we were told that she had just a little money left and the cashier asked if she wanted to purchase a candy bar that was conveniently located next to the register. It was a sweet way to end our purchases.

Additionally, each child received a backpack filled with school supplies. Finally, they picked up some free toys if they wanted, a frisbee or a jump rope and they were asked to take a spin of the game wheel and see where it landed. The landing points each had encouraging phrases like “I am Great!” which they were emboldened to say out loud, and then they were given another small bag of goodies.

Then it was time to go home. Her social worker met us, and I asked Maria if it was ok if I gave her a hug? She said sure, and I gave her the biggest hug I could, saying goodbye and wishing her a wonderful new semester.

After a little while I saw my friends, who had been volunteering since the start of Childspree. The mom had been a social worker and came with her husband and grown daughter. They were experienced, so they were given an entire family with three young boys and the boys’ mom came along to help. My friends were grateful that the mom was there, because one of the boys she had observed couldn’t stay still. Happily, by the end of the time, they had successfully found outfits for each of the boys, and they too were set to start the school year with new clothes and supplies.

I noticed my friend giving the mom her phone number to help her if needed, as her kids were going through the court system. I teased her that I was surprised that through the years, she hadn’t ended up with some more kids at home. She joked back, saying that who said that she hadn’t? As we rode home together, we compared notes as to our experiences that day. It seems throughout her life, she happily collects many of life’s strays, helping them out with a ride here, or some advice there. It’s important to acknowledge that with all the misfortune in this world, there still are serial, kind-hearted people as well.

On the way home, I thought about our day. I hoped that the hug I gave Maria would give her some love and comfort, as was intended. I wished that her life this year would be more Peaceful. The teenage years are challenging even when you are surrounded by love. I hoped her inner strength would carry her through.

As for me, after all these years the wound is still healing. I’ve tried to use it as inspiration to help others. I know in my heart that my husband and I wanted a child very badly and when we were finally successful, there has never been a moment that my son doesn’t know he is loved.

As the 2024 funds for Childspree are depleted, it’s time to start fundraising for 2025. As you’ve read, it’s a terrific event and the more money raised, the more children can be helped. If you care to donate, the donation is tax deductible. Please do so at: www.tbesoc.org/childspree-24.html or any questions? Email: Kim at kgubner007@gmail.com

May You Live in Peace, שלום and سلام.