The Rock That Knew Too Much

The only thing better than reading Friday Fictioneers is joining in the fun with 100 words of my own. This week there happened to be an unoccupied hour and I couldn’t resist the chance to pair a flash rant with the photo prompt courtesy of fellow Fictioneer C.E. Ayr.

A day late, but not short on piss and vinegar stone cold sass, here is my offering.

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Copyright C.E. Ayr

The Rock That Knew Too Much

Millennia before lifeforms slithered into existence and declared their right to self-determination, firmament comingled with magma to produce a witness to every age from the dinosaur to dystopia. Today, a stone’s throw from where the world caught fire, Igneous, the pugnacious pumice, sits stupefied, forever frozen by the predatory species hell bent on silencing the last remaining testament to man’s destructive nature.

It was only a matter of time until no stone was left unturned and Igneous cried out in an avalanche of rage the truth that Gibraltar had known all along.

“Humans are dumber than a box of rocks!”

 

*****

Check out more Friday Fictioneer stories here.

 

Repose & Repurpose

Someone I love recently shared a long distance sunset with me that completely matches a phrase from Longfellow’s Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie, a poem of loss and devotion that coincidentally matches my experience at this particular moment in time.

The most difficult thing is to recognize failure for what it is, an opportunity to learn something about the world you thought you’d already mastered. The most encouraging thing is the knowledge that a single moment does not define who we are. 

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“Softly the evening came,
The sun from the Western horizon.
Like a magician extended his 
golden wand o’er the landscape
   Twinkling vapors arose; 
   and sky and water and forest 
   Seemed all on fire at the touch,
   and melted and mingled together.”
                              – Longfellow

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I am grateful to be old enough to know better than to give up when a plan falls apart. Faithful and consistent, there’s always tomorrow.

Sunrise

Up Close and Personal

Forty days and forty nights in another woman’s shoes can put a blister on your heel that makes you want to sit down and never walk again. She’s too tired to sleep and too broken to know where to start picking up the pieces, but she keeps moving because to do otherwise would be deadly. This is not fiction. It is reality. Here at home, on our watch, an urban, suburban, rural, cross-cultural, multi-generational population across America is experiencing homelessness at an alarming rate.

In just one day in 2015, over 31,500 adults and children fleeing domestic violence found refuge in a domestic violence emergency shelter or transitional housing program.

  • That same day, domestic violence programs were unable to meet over 12,197 requests for services because of a lack of funding, staffing, or other resources.
  • Sixty-three percent (7,728) of unmet requests were for housing. Emergency shelter and transitional housing continue to be the most urgent unmet needs for domestic violence survivors.

Source: National Network to End Domestic Violence. (2016). Domestic Violence Counts 2015-A 24-hour census of domestic violence shelters and servicesWashington, DC.

This is unconscionable. This is unacceptable. This is my job. Each day for the last forty days, I have been trying to wrap my head around all of the moving parts of the juggernaut that seems to have bumfuzzled us to the tune of billions of dollars over the span of decades. Non-profit agencies and faith-based organizations dedicated to serving the needs of individuals and families in chronic crisis are tasked with stretching every dollar with Herculean strength while gently tip-toeing through a public health minefield.

Slogans and good intentions are not enough to make homelessness rare, brief, and non-recurring in our communities. We need better tools, clearly defined and manageable objectives, and money. Lots of money. 

Stewardship is a word that gets a lot of air time in the non-profit sector, where the line of people in need of assistance is longer than the cue for Space Mountain. Grant makers, government grants in particular, require non-profits to disperse cash on hand up front and submit supporting documentation for review and approval before being reimbursed. This is one reason why those who donate faithfully to the charity of their choice are highly valued by direct service providers. WE LOVE SMALL DONATIONS MOST OF ALL should be stamped on the letterhead of every non-profit that relies on individual donors to keep the lights on.

These are the things one thinks about at 2a.m. when revenue generation is part of their job description. Staff development, board engagement, community involvement, partner agency collaboration, and that overarching performance measurement – a single success story duplicated client after client, program after program, year after budget-wrenching year – make up the sum total of my thoughts these days. It is an honor and privilege to serve. I leave you with this:

In 2014, Family Violence Prevention and Services grantees reported 196,467 unmet requests for shelter—a 13% increase over those reported in 2010. This represents a count of the number of unmet requests for shelter due to programs being at capacity.

Source: Family Violence Prevention & Services Program, Family & Youth Services Bureau. (2015). Domestic Violence Services Provided by State and Tribal Grantees. Washington, DC.

The need for safe housing and the economic resources to maintain safe housing are two of the most pressing concerns among abused women who are planning to or have recently left abusers.

Source: Clough, A., Draughon, J. E., Njie-Carr, V., Rollins, C., & Glass, N. (2014).

Having housing made everything else possible”: Affordable, safe and stable housing for women survivors of violence. Qualitative Social Work, 13(5), 671-688.

P.S. If you support an agency that serves individuals and families experiencing or at risk of homelessness, thank you. We cannot succeed without you.

 

 

The Wait Is Over

Even in a world where fraud, force, and coercion place lives in jeopardy every day, there are still ideals in which I firmly believe – compassion, integrity, peace. What we believe is proven by what we do, and I believe the best way to memorialize those who died for the freedoms we hold dear is by a coordinated effort to feed, house, and educate all children everywhere so that humanity might someday realize the dream for which so many have sacrificed their lives.

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For those who have sent words of encouragement, you’ll be pleased to know that I start my new job in a few days. I couldn’t be happier. It was worth the wait. The future is now.

Dream Job

Those who read posts other than Friday Fictioneers know the job search process that consumes my every waking (sometimes sleeping) moment. It’s been an odd year since I graduated. Come to think of it, my entire work life has been odd. So, there’s no reason to believe what lies ahead will be much different. Until then, there’s the writing.

Friday Fictioneers is one of the bright spots, in addition to my garden, that keeps me sane. Sort of. My story this week is one of frustration and reality. Thanks to Rochelle and Roger and all of the other writers. You can read their stories here.

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Copyright Roger Bultot

Service Without A Smile

They could have just paid their server and left, never to return, but NOOOO! Gerard always caught the wrong end of the customer service stick. How did the kitchen seem to know to make a major screw up when he was in the middle of running payroll or doing the grocery order? If only he’d gone to college, he’d be an up-market gentleman with clients worth millions. Instead his days were spent consoling white collar foodies whose eggs were over cooked, directing tourists to the lady’s room, or shooing divers from the dumpster. Damn his loyalty to the family business!