poverty in america

i was raised by a single mom.  we had some pretty rocky times.  we lived in some off base military apartments which is just another way of saying upper crust ghetto.  while there, our next door neighbor shot her husband through the door of their apartment because he was coming in to beat her again.  we could hear their fights often.  his hand connecting with her cheek, her subsequent screams.  once we moved, we moved to a pretty sketchy area of tacoma, wa which in the early 80's was known as being fairly sketchy in and of itself.  we were even on welfare at one point for about 6 months.  all this to say, i understand living paycheck to paycheck or welfare check to welfare check. 

it's been years since i have had to view it up close and personal.  my friends and i all say "we're broke". generally, what we mean is, "i can't go out with drinks with you".  in my 20's i was taken to housing court for failing to pay my rent on time (i was a month late - i had been unemployed for a few months) but i took care of it quickly.  my memory of my childhood and our american poverity had diminished and i am very fine with that.

living in bed-stuy has changed that.  living among housing and chicken bones and stray cats and teenagers screaming at their babies has changed that.  my heart is often so heavy when i walk from the train, having left my midtown manhattan job where i make a living wage that it takes little to set me on the edge of an bit of an emotional tandrum.  last night, i met the edge and went over.  on a street corner at the end of my block, i saw a beautiful medium sized brown and white dog with crooked ears tied to the fense at the empty lot alone in the sun.  he was standing beside a huge bag of alpo and looked so desperate to please that i had to stop myself from going over to him and hugging on him.  i noticed a bunch of kids standing off to the side and in the building across the street were people hanging out of their windows yelling down to the 'crazy' dog.  my mind instantly came to the conclusion that someone was abanding this dog and just expecting their unwanted adoption to be taken care of by the neighborhood.  like they take care of the literally hundreds of cats and now that it's the right time of years, kittens that wander the streets.  i started walking the short walk left to my home and started crying.  i rounded to my house and saw my beautiful 6 month old son in the window being held from behind by my amazing husband and the difference in my life and the lives around me struck me incredibly hard and for a few minuets, stan couldn't get out of me what was wrong. 

once he did, he went into action and went out to see what we could do about the dog.  it turns out that he wasn't just being put out with nary a care.  in reality, there was a teenage boy that had to make this brutal decision because his family was being evicted and he couldn't take the dog with him.  he was waiting to get the dog a home before he went to the shelter where his family awaited.  so, we tried to call the shelter where we got our kitten, cali, we tried 311 which is a number in nyc where you can get the animal people to come and get the dog to his own shelter, we tried friends and we even tried a message board we frequent and we drew a blank. 

but! while we were scrambling, this neighborhood DID come to the rescue.  someone did adopt the dog and the kid got to go to his new transition home with a lighter heart.  so, me and my doubts and my looking down my nose was all a negative waste of time.  God's here.  He sees.  He may not work on my time table and i may not often see His goodness here, but it's always there waiting in the wings.