Partners with Modest Needs
In this section, you will find inspirational pieces offering an in-depth look at the personal stories of families who have requested help from Modest Needs - and the miracles made possible by your giving.
360 Degrees of Kindness | 2008-05-15 09:18
When I established Modest Needs in 2002, my goal was simple: to help low-income families stay self-sufficient. I never expected that a miraculous cycle would develop, that the same people in desperate need of a few hundred dollars one month would become Modest Needs contributors the next. That so many of our funded applicants -- some on the verge of total destitution -- would start donating $3 or $10 or $100 a month as soon as they got back onto their feet, bringing to life the phrase 'paying it forward' time and time again.
Over the years, I've seen hundreds of examples of this cycle, but none more compelling than the story of Pamela, a wife and mother in Joliet, Illinois.
Pamela has experienced more heartache within the last 5 years than any one person should have to bear. When she first came to Modest Needs in 2003, her son had recently committed suicide. Understandably, Pamela was dealing with a level of grief that few of us can even begin to comprehend. And exacerbating that grief was her inability to achieve a sense of closure around her son's death. You see, at the time, she couldn't afford a headstone for him. And every time she visited his grave, that void became more and more painful.
Back in 2003, Modest Needs donors came through for Pamela and funded her application for a headstone, much to her surprise. It was the first time in ages that she'd felt a helping hand, after having had, as she put it, 'door after door slammed in my face.' She vowed never to forget the kindness of these strangers who had helped her get through the excruciating period following her son's untimely death.
Then, just a short time later, tragedy struck again. Pamela, who had managed to beat breast cancer back in 1996 through chemotherapy and radiation, was diagnosed again with the disease in 2004, a day before her 50th birthday. With the advice of her doctors, she decided that a double-mastectomy was her best chance at survival.
She had planned on getting breast implants after the operation, but a particularly nasty staph infection and the prospect of a new series of surgeries changed her mind. Instead, she decided that a prosthesis was the way to go after a long period of recuperation.
When she acquired her prosthesis, however, she was horrified to find that it weighed a whopping 20 pounds. And those 20 pounds felt a whole lot heavier after Pamela lost a significant amount of weight. It wasn't just uncomfortable; the prosthesis was actually causing her severe neck and back pain, and yet she 'felt like a freak' leaving the house without it.
'At the time, I felt horrible about myself,' she explained. 'I didn't want to leave the house, see friends, even go to picnics. I felt like I looked like, well, a boy, without the prosthesis.'
Much lighter, more advanced prostheses were available. They were just prohibitively expensive. The best one for Pamela's body, a 5-pound version, cost more than $5,000. And although her insurance company would step up to cover most of the cost, $315 fell to Pamela to fund. Being on a fixed disability income, she found that she just couldn't scrape together that much money.
So you came up with it for her.
That's right. In 2007, Modest Needs' donors did it again, funding Pamela's second application. After years of chronic back and neck pain, Pamela was finally able to enjoy her life again.
And then, last month, this woman who'd managed so many hardships with grace and resiliency received a third and crushing blow. Her beloved husband of 11 years, Cliff, died unexpectedly of lung illness at the young age of 52. Pamela was absolutely devastated. He'd been ill for the past year or so, suffering from lung problems and sleep apnea. But Pamela never guessed that he would leave her so soon. Cliff was the caretaker of his elderly father. He'd been a beloved grandfather. He was, as Pamela described him, a 'gentle giant' without a malicious word for anyone. In all the years she'd known him, she can't remember him once raising his voice to her.
With Cliff's passing came not only heartbreak but financial concerns. Did he have life insurance? What would Pamela do to help his elderly father? Where would she live? And most urgently, how would she pay for Cliff's funeral?
In an admirable display of generosity, Cliff's employer of 14 years -- Harrah's Casino, where Cliff had worked as a cage cashier -- offered to put $2,500 toward the cost of his funeral. Pamela was relieved; it was one worry off her mind. By this point she'd been researching her options and found that cremation was the least expensive choice, priced at about $1,700. If Harrah's was nice enough to offer, Pamela didn't want to spend their money frivolously. But even after informing Harrah's that she only needed $1,700, they insisted on the full $2,500. They asked her to choose her favorite nonprofit to receive the remaining $800.
You can guess where Pamela told them to send the money.
When she emailed me a few weeks back with news of this $800 donation, I recognized a sight I've seen so many times before: the cycle of giving coming full-circle again. And you want to know something truly amazing?
Pamela's $800 donation in honor of her husband Cliff is almost the EXACT amount we've granted to her over the course of her two separate applications -- $315 and $500, respectively. How's that for karma?
Except that, in light of our ongoing matching grant initiative, Pamela's $800 donation actually doubles to $1,600. So she'll be doing TWICE the amount of good that we were able to do for her.
In her email to me, Pamela simply and beautifully articulated her reason for choosing Modest Needs: 'Why did I pick your organization? Because twice when I needed help, you were there for me. I never forgot the help you gave me and always said that one of these days I would be in a position to give help back. I hope you can make someone's life much happier with this money, as you've made mine.'
When I followed up with Pamela on the phone, it had only been a few short, raw weeks since Cliff's death. And to be honest, if put in her position, I don't know if I would have even agreed to an interview during such a grief-stricken period. But Pamela jumped at the chance. She's clearly a remarkably strong person. Despite an overwhelming amount of trauma in her life, she continues to look toward to the future. She has made plans to move in with her daughter, and is spending her days moving Cliff's things out of his father's home.
She's one of an elite group of extraordinary people I've met through Modest Needs who've decided to create something noble out of their own personal tragedy.
In fact, Pamela's not satisfied with donating $800. As we end our conversation, she's emphasizing how much Harrah's liked Modest Needs' mission, and how they have the potential to donate significantly more. She would do whatever we asked to help persuade them to give more.
What I remember most vividly about our conversation, though, is the way she spoke about her late husband -- with affection, admiration, and a palpable sense of loss. I hope that in this donation she has found a least a small amount of comfort, in the knowledge that she has created a legacy of giving for Cliff, and for herself.
Because just as Cliff's love and friendship has made all the difference in her life, Pamela's courageous generosity will now do the same for dozens and dozens of others.
Piece by Piece | 2008-05-06 13:08
A few weeks ago, Modest Needs was barreling toward our most important milestone ever: our 5,000th funded grant application. And I confess that I was in a sort of giddy disbelief. After all, I vividly remember a time when we'd provided for just a few hundred applicants. I'm an optimist, but I never envisioned that we'd come so far so quickly. And here, in the Modest Needs office, the anticipation was palpable.
Five thousand isn't just a number to me, or an achievement worthy of a pat on the back. Because these are 5,000 funded applications represent (literally) many thousands of real human LIVES that we've changed. Many thousands lives people who've struggled through illness, loss, bad luck and long hours, who've felt abandoned by the system. Many thousands of individuals and families whose dashed hopes have been rekindled and whose self-sufficiency has been restored by the kindness of people like you.
Take Lucy, the very applicant who came in at number 5,000. She had just moved into public housing, a twin bed her only possession, when I spoke to her on the phone last week. She was covered in lesions and open wounds and suffering from near-exhaustion. It was, as she put it, 'the happiest I've been in years.'
Hard to believe?
Wait until you hear this remarkable woman's story.
Ten years ago, Lucy was earning $5,000 a month as an office manager and mortgage broker. She owned fine art, collected antiques, and felt totally comfortable financially. She would never have believed the unusual and horrific circumstances that would leave her withering away in a nursing home at the relatively young age of 59.
Lucy's health and financial problems first took root in 1999, when mysterious lesions began to surface on her face and body. Shortly thereafter she would come to be diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder called pemphigus, which causes the skin to attack itself. Since then, Lucy has been hospitalized 25 times for this chronic condition -- 18 times within the last 2 years alone. Her relentless disease has stripped Lucy of all her skin, head to toe, to the point that she now requires a walker, and after significant physical therapy she has learned to walk all over again.
'Even just the water pressure from a showerhead would tear the skin right off my body,' she explained. The steroid medication she took to keep the condition in check has increased her weight from 149 lbs to 350 lbs. Her hair has fallen out. She has developed life-threatening complications along the way, including a stomach ulcer and blood poisoning -- 'crisis after crisis after crisis,' as Lucy described it.
The most shocking and bizarre part of her diagnosis is the source of her debilitating condition. During the 1980s, Lucy lived with her husband in Washington state, where her husband worked as an engineer a nuclear power plant. Some years later, inspectors discovered that a significant radiation leak had occurred. And that, worse, the leak had infiltrated the town's water supply. For several years, the water in Lucy's home -- water she drank, cooked with, bathed and swam in -- had been contaminated with radiation. Today, that radiation poisoning no longer lays dormant in her body. Instead, it makes her susceptible to a variety of illnesses, including cancer. And, of course, pemphigus.
In 2000, Lucy joined a class-action lawsuit against her husband's employer, informed by dozens of lawyers that she stood to receive millions of dollars in compensation. But she hasn't seen a dime of that money, and she expects that she never will. When the Patriot Act took effect in the U.S., the legal team representing the nuclear plant where Lucy's husband had been employed (and specifically the government contractors there) denied Lucy's lawyer access to the scientific data he needed to prove her case. And so, like thousands of other Americans infected with radiation poisoning as a result of this unfortunate situation, Lucy waits.
For the past 2.5 years, she has been waiting in a nursing home, requiring round-the-clock medical assistance to keep her disease under control.
When Lucy came to Modest Needs this spring, she had been abandoned by most of her family and had lost her job, insurance, and savings. Even the tiny sum she received monthly from social security disability was being swallowed up by the nursing home to cover a portion of her medical costs. But the good news was that, thanks to her unwavering determination, Lucy had improved enough that she could be discharged. As you might imagine, she was positively bursting with excitement at the prospect of simply going home.
Right around the same time came another windfall. After 5 YEARS on the waiting list for public housing, Lucy's number finally came up. She had 70 days to move into an apartment being held for her. There was just one problem, and it was sizable: Lucy didn't have a dollar to her name. No security deposit for the apartment. No first month's rent. Nothing. How could she have saved any money if the nursing home had seized all of it? In fact, she was on the verge of personal bankruptcy.
In her desperate efforts to make the move possible, Lucy sought help from several local agencies. Eventually she came to Modest Needs, the final name on her list. Because the nursing home didn't make a computer available for patient use, Lucy would go to great lengths to submit her application. Her 70 days were running out. You were her very last hope.
'No one should have to experience life in a nursing home,' she remarked. 'The people there need healing and tranquility and quiet, and instead we are warehoused as patients, two and three people in one room. You learn to be your own advocate very quickly. The conditions are appalling. If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to plan your finances so that you never have to resort to a nursing home.'
Because the nursing home where Lucy was living didn't have anything approaching Internet access, Lucy made the trek to her local Kinko's. She knew that Internet usage ran $24/hour there, but she felt compelled to take the risk. As it turned out, three of the four Kinko's computers were broken. The one working machine was occupied. And in what Lucy called 'divine intervention,' the manager there offered her the use of his computer, for free, when he found out why Lucy needed to use a computer. To her, it was a sure sign that things would ultimately work out.
And work out they did. Lucy scraped together the money for her apartment using a loan from a friend and one last credit card, but she didn't have anything left over to transport the few belongings she'd left languishing in storage. Within 36 hours of uploading her application, Modest Needs donors came through with $750 for a moving truck, and Lucy was finally on her way home.
I think that brings us back to where I started: on the phone with Lucy as she sat on the twin bed her niece had provided, covered in lesions, and absolutely ecstatic. She'd made it into public housing with only a few hours to spare in her 70-day window. The moving truck you covered would be bringing the remainder of her possessions the following day. And Lucy was expecting her first delivery of groceries any moment. 'I've endured absolutely terrible food for years. I haven't had a decent meal since 2005!'
Lucy recognizes that pemphigus will plague her for the rest of her life. But imagine the difference between recuperating in the comfort of your own home, or in the wretched atmosphere of a jam-packed nursing home. For the first time in ages, she has plans for the future -- specifically, to start up a home-based online business, and to lose the weight she gained from all those steroids.
'I wouldn't have been able to do it without Modest Needs,' she said. 'But just as important as helping me secure my belongings, you enabled me a sense of poise and dignity. As far as I'm concerned, the work you do is sacred.'
When I asked Lucy how she has managed to overcome so many obstacles -- physical as well as financial -- her answer resonated with me on many levels. 'Piece by piece,' she remarked, simply. 'One at a time.'
In that way, Lucy's story perfectly exemplifies the journey of Modest Needs. Our community has funded applicants in much the same manner as she regained her health -- 'piece by piece' -- with $5 and $10 donations building one on top of the other to fund one application, and then two, and then three, then hundreds, and now - thousands.
Lucy's resolve and resourcefulness will continue to inspire me as we move forward. But no less inspiring are you, the individuals whose good deeds and small donations have rescued her from this nursing home. So thank you, from me and from Lucy and from the many thousands of other people whose lives are transformed daily through your own courageous generosity.
5,000 grants down. An infinite number still to go.
