No Hungry Hearts For Christmas – Part 1 of 4

Part 1…

It was 1977 and another busy New York Christmas was quickly approaching.

As I grabbed my local newspaper to check the weather, the headline grabbed my attention:

“At St. Michaels Home The Holidays Are Bleak.”

I knew that St. Michaels was a home for needy kids, but not much more than that. With my curiosity peaked, I felt the need to find out what happened.

Locating a phone number from within the article, I picked up the phone and dialed.

As it rang, I recalled Christmas shopping with my mom a week earlier. I remembered her saying:

“I appreciate the way you girls (referring to my sister Gini and I) have always blessed me with gifts over the years, but honestly, I have everything I could ever need. If you want to give, I would prefer you did it for others – especially those who have no one. Just Pass It On – there will be NO MORE HUNGRY HEARTS!”

As I reflected on that moment, a soft-spoken woman answered the phone and interrupted my thought. “Hello, this is Sister Marta. How may I help you?”

I introduced myself to Sister Marta and explained how I read the article in the paper and wanted to somehow help.

Although her reaction was of encouragement, I could still sense some trepidation in her voice.

“Thank you for your concern, miss. You see, Sister Emma and I are responsible for 200 kids.  Most of them are neglected and deprived teens whose parents are unable to care for them any longer.  Some of these kids don’t even have parents. Other than the bare essentials of room and board  there are no extra funds for the kids – much less for Christmas.”

“Christmas wasn’t always this way”, she added. “Over the years, however, people forgot about the children as they grew older.  They enjoyed buying toys and cute things when the kids were younger, but now that they are older are often overlooked. In an effort to give the kids something to open on Christmas, Sister Emma and I managed to save one dollar per child throughout the year.  We place those dollars into donated wallets and give one to each of the children.”

“This will be their Christmas present.”

As she spoke, my heart ached for these kids.  Knowing what Christmas meant to our family, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  I saved all year for my kids no matter what.  I wrapped everything from lifesavers and socks, to underwear and pencils. Even toothpaste! Regardless of the gift, the kids always had fun opening presents.

How was it for the kids at St. Michaels not to have presents to open at Christmas?

Sister Marta continued, “Attending public school makes it even sadder.  They all know what other kids will be doing on Christmas morning.  Uncertainty looms around their plans as they dread the holidays. Once a year, on Christmas Eve, St. Michaels buses some of the children back to the city for a brief, Christmas reunion with their parents. The staff at the home attempts to call each child’s family weeks in advance to arrange the meeting.  Unfortunately, most are never reached. “

“The kids that are lucky enough to be granted a trip will take an hour bus ride into the city. Sadly, many of them return on that same bus because their parents never arrive to meet them.  Now these kids are further distraught, devastated and untrusting.

Instead of a joyous time of year, Christmas becomes a day that they hope will never come.”

This was getting harder to listen to.

“What ever can I do to help?” I asked. “There must be something?”

The sister replied disheartened, “I wish there was something that you could do. You see, these kids have been let down by everyone around them.  We dearly want to see them able to trust and love again, but it is very difficult to penetrate those barriers.  Honestly, Sister Emma and myself are so very protective of the children.  We don’t want them to face any unnecessary disappointment in their lives.”

As our call drew to a close, she thanked me for my concern and left me with her contact information.

After hanging up with Sister Marta, my heart cried as much as my eyes.  My mind swirled in a hundred directions.  I had to do something for these kids.  They needed to know that someone loved them and to realize (maybe for the first time) that they were worth being loved.

For once in their lives they needed to feel like normal kids.

I knew if nothing else, they could at least be given a REAL Christmas.  One filled with presents, delicious food, fun places to go and all the other wonderful things that kids should experience at Christmas time.

Compassion filled my heart, but Christmas was less than two weeks away!

Then reality set in.

What could one mom possibly do?