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Archive for July, 2009

Pay it forward

It’s weird how things just seem to work out in your favor sometimes.  For instance today, Harmony my amazing co-worker, and I went to lunch at Pastini a few blocks from our work.  We get to the restaurant and get seated, gossip,  order food and eventually start eating.  Not long after we start eating some random man comes up and asks us how we like dessert, initially we think he is some crazy guy who thinks he has some magor mojo, but no, turns out he is the manager of the restaurant.  Both of us must have had faces of umm…ehh…dessert?  He then says, how about a free lunch?  We could only wonder what shinanigans we would have to consent to for this to actually come true, nobody gets a free lunch for nothing.

So, he then procedes to say, well these people over here have a reservation that didn’t get written in the book and in order to accomodate them they would need to move us to a different table.  Naturally we would have moved without a problem or bribe being necessary; but when this gift is offered you take it, right?  Well we did….but we ended up leaving a tip for what our meal would have cost.  I mean the food was great, the service was great, and we were getting a free meal…and by simply leaving a tip equivelant to our bill, we were saving money in the long run since there was no “additional tip amount,” if that makes any sense.  So anyway, we put down $18 and are about to walk out the door when the waitress stops us, saying you’re meal was on the house.  We say yes it was and this is your tip.  This young girl was flabbergasted and seemed confused by this gesture.

I find it sad that she found it so shocking that people don’t always have to take something free and run with it.  There is always room to make an impression, or do something good.  Harmony and I didn’t even need to discuss this, we each got out our $9 and put it down without thinking.  It was the right thing to do, no matter how you look at it, we saved a couple bucks.  Right?

Did you ever see that movie called, “Pay It Forward,” with Haley Joel Osmond?  The one where he’s a young boy and his teacher is teaching his students to do good for if you do something good for another, they will typically in turn do some good for someone else making this chain reaction of “paying it forward.”  I looked at this situation like that and many others in my life…I just wish others weren’t so shocked by the simplicity of such things.

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Mr. Wu

Honestly, I don’t know how Chad does this most days.  I’m running around like a crazy person trying to do it.  I think he asked me to do them when I had more than enough time in the mornings at work…but as my final day gets closer, the person I am training has more questions and the lack of computers in my office it isn’t all that easy to make sure I hop on and do this.  But, here is numero dos and hopefully, I will get tres up tomorrow…three out of five days is a success in my book with the shinanigans going on around here.

I know I already spoke about transitioning out of my current job on Tuesday, but more and moe happens that I simply feel it is right to elongate my experiences these past few days.  Now, in order to get a grasp of where this remembrance is going to lead, it is important for me to give you the basics of an experience that started six months ago and still haunts me today. 

My office provides a minimal amount of bus passes and tickets to downtown residents.  The same people get the assistance every month and in order for a new person to get the monthly help, someone else has to move, win the lottery or die (there’s no way to sugar coat it), so one month one of my Korean clients asked the requirements to get a pass, and the next day I was literally invaded by Asia.  I had over fifty individuals come in wanting help.  Mind you, I do not speak any foreign language fluently and especially none of the Asian family languages.  There were waving of hands, and people dragging in translaters and mass confusion in the respect of there just wasn’t enough money in my budget to help everyone…hence my magic waiting list.  And, if you know anything about Asian languages, I have learned that there is no direct translation and the understanding of which is also very difficult to translate when the translator doesn’t fully comprehend the english meaning. 

So anyway, I had a few weeks of utter and complete madness, since then things have calmed down, but the herd still keeps me on my toes and it’s always a show of hands and attempted communication.  I can say I feel pretty successful in my attempts of communication, but now I have one of these fifty plus people receiving monthly help from our office, we shall call him Mr. Wu. 

Mr. Wu, has some missing teeth, big glasses and the most inviting smile you have ever seen.  Always gracious, always thoughtful and extremely respectful.  He came in on Monday to pick up his pass, but it wasn’t in yet so I told him to check back Wednesday, still no pass, but he did bring me my name written on a very fancy piece of paper in Korean, the symbols translate directly as Lee-Uh.  Who knew Korean had a translation for “uh”?

Anyway, this gift was so out of the blue and so genuine, in that this man wanted me to feel apart of his culture and have something to remember him by, he told me it is for my “good fortune,” I was taken aback.  I could only remember feelings of frustration when I was invaded, and forgot what I was here for, to serve these people, this man.  He reminded me of what I was truly doing for not only he but so many others.

It is easy to forget our purpose in life and work; sometimes it takes these simple gestures to bring us back down to reality and make us remember.  Even though Mr. Wu has only been a client for a very short while, his gift will make me remember him for a very long time.

As with my previous post, it is very easy to forget how big the little things mean to ourselves and others; and it is a true gift to be enlightened and reminded.  It is also just as important for us to extend these gestures to friends, relatives, acquantances and even strangers on occassion.  Strive to make this world a better place.  We can do it without even knowing it.

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Transitions and Smiles

So, I’m not sure if Chad spread the news that he asked me to fill in and post a few blogs while he and Shannon are in Costa Rica. I’m hoping that these here words will bring some redemption…but unfortunately, I’m all over the place with my thoughts with how busy and random this past weekend and with what is coming and happening all this week. .

Three weeks ago I applied for a job, which I was then offered last Monday. I put my two weeks notice in that Tuesday and my final day of work for my current agency is this Friday. Time flies! I have barely had time to fully digest what changes are going to happen, how fast and how I am going to adjust to them. I am a creature of habit; not bad habit…good habit, but change makes me nervous all the same. As soon as I found out I was hired, excitement and gratitude surged through me and just as quickly, anxiety, dizziness and nausea came right after. Everyday I get more and more excited for the change but as that happens, more and more of my clients walk through my door and confront me with the “rumors, that can’t be true,” with tears in their eyes. Now, my seniors are amazing (most of them anyway) and they are what have kept me coming in and keeping faith and hope for the system and my little cubbyhole office sanity.

With my final day getting closer and closer and more and more people helping me reflect on my time within this agency I am truly learning a lot about myself that I never really paid attention to. I have begun listening to how I am perceived within this center and what an impact one person can make. Now, when I first started here we conducted what is called “Meet and Greets” at a variety of apartment buildings in our service area since we were a brand spankin’ new staff and agency with this contract. We had no clue what we were doing, as far as I’m concerned we were on a wild goose chase. So many people have been saying they come back for the smiles and hellos and how you doins they get from our office, typically mine, since I’m the only person in it 99% of the time. It makes me feel so good knowing that people enjoyed coming to a our center because of the welcoming feeling they get from one person. Now, on top of this, I feel even more great about myself (this past week has made my head and ego grow a smidge), only three weeks ago a staff member from the L&F side of the building left who had been with this center for six years, SIX, and the center participants were sad to see him go but none of them really went out of their way to do much for him. I have gotten more cards than I can count, more tears, hugs and threats to kidnap me and keep me here than imaginable.

Everything here is done and said in good humor but I have never in my life felt so loved, fortunate and cared for on so many different levels in a job than I have here. So much can come out of the woodwork that you never saw coming and be blindsided with the most bittersweet thoughts possible. I will truly miss coming to work and having one certain man zoom in on his Jazzy scooter carrying my breakfast burrito minus onion and tomato every Friday; hosting my Friday Fiber Klatch with my amazing nutty ladies and my ten cent BINGO group that make me laugh for an entire hour and a half and keep me on my “young toes” as they say. I am blessed, blessed to have so many memories, so many experiences like pushing a broken down 1979 scooter for 1.5 miles in downtown Portland with a co-worker during rush hour traffic or wrecking a company vehicle in the horrible Westshore or playing the role of a furniture delivery person. My job was wide and deep; wide with experience and deep with emotion.

No matter where we work, what we do, how ho we live, we make some impact in some way. Sometimes we don’t know what we have done for someone else until they tell us or until we are to leave their lives…and most of the time, we will never know what true impact we as humans make on others. Some people are too stubborn to show their true emotions. But if I have learned anything through this experience it’s that we make a difference whether we know so or not. So, live your day and smile at someone who looks a bit down, you might just brighten their day a bit and most likely that form of kindness will get reciprocated to another. If you have a bad day, remember that someone else probably is having a day even worse and ask yourself, what can I do today to make a difference? When all else fails, smile. A smile is what is remembered, or so I’m told.

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Random in Costa Rica

2419420838_a99840bfe9My mind might be blank due to the fact that I write this on the second half of pulling a 16 hour day.  But first I want to appologize for leaving the readers high and dry yesterday without a blog.  My fiance Shannon was packing and I was helping and just got distracted and never accomplished what I wanted too.  But here is todays blog, this came to me this morning.

I thought about doing something completely random for my blog.  Yet, I have no idea what.  The thing about doing something completely random, is that it requires thought, and deliberacy.  So can it truly be called random?

You may have an initial random thought, which you put down digitally, on paper or act upon, but after that, there is nothing random about it.  When you put it down on paper, you pour over your words to ensure that they make sense.  Time and effort goes into it.

The same goes for carrying out a random act.  The thought can randomly pop into your head, yes, but after that you choose whether or not to do it.  Therefore, it cannot really be deemed a random act.

I had an idea: allowing people to choose things that they think I should do  in costa rica.  Then I can write about it when I get back.  I don’t mean anything that is offensive, harmful to any living creature or explicit: just something SEEMINGLY RANDOM.

I think something like this could yield interesting results.  Anyway, it’s just a random thought I had.

What do you think?

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New Set of Lenses

god's angelThis morning I thought I would share an excerpt from something I read.  Warning: you might want a tissue box handy.  It’s kind of long, but worth it.

IN GOD’S EYES
by Candace Carteen, Portland, Oregon

By the time I was ten, I was totally ashamed of my father. All my friends called him names: Quasi-Moto, hunchback, monster, little Frankenstein, the crooked little man with the crooked little cane. At first it hurt when they called him those things, but soon I found myself agreeing with them. He was ugly, and I knew it!

My father was born with something called parastremmatic dwarfism. The disease made him stop growing when he was about thirteen and caused his body to twist and turn into a grotesque shape. It wasn’t too bad when he was a kid. I saw pictures of him when he was about my age. He was a little short but quite good-looking. Even when he met my mother and married her when he was nineteen, he still looked pretty normal. He was still short and walked with a slight limp, but he was able to do just about anything. Mother said, “He even
used to be a great dancer.”

Soon after my birth, things started getting worse. Another genetic disorder took over, and his left foot started turning out, almost backward. His head and neck shifted over to the right; his neck became rigid and he had to look over his left shoulder a bit. His right arm curled in and up, and his index finger almost touched his elbow. His spine warped to look something like a big, old roller
coaster and it caused his torso to lie sideways instead of straight up and down like a normal person. His walk became slow, awkward, and deliberate. He had to almost drag his left foot as he used his deformed right arm to balance his gait.

I hated to be seen with him. Everyone stared. They seemed to pity me. I knew he must have done something really bad to have God hate him that much.

By the time I was seventeen, I was blaming all my problems on my father. I didn’t have the right boyfriends because of him. I didn’t drive the right car because of him. I wasn’t pretty enough because of him. I didn’t have the right jobs because of him. I wasn’t happy because of him.

Anything that was wrong with me, or my life, was because of him. If my father had been good-looking like Jane’s father, or successful like Paul’s father, or worldly like Terry’s father, I would be perfect! I knew that for sure.

The night of my senior prom came, and Father had to place one more nail in my coffin; he had volunteered to be one of the chaperones at the dance. My heart just sank when he told me. I stormed into my room, slammed the door, threw myself on the bed, and cried. “Three more weeks and I’ll be out of here!” I screamed into my pillow. “Three more weeks and I will have graduated and be moving away to college.” I sat up and took a deep breath. “God, please make my father go away and leave me alone. He keeps sticking his big nose in everything I do. Just make him disappear, so that I can have a good time at the dance.”

I got dressed, my date picked me up, and we went to the prom. Father followed in his car behind us. When we arrived, Father seemed to vanish into the pink chiffon drapes that hung everywhere in the auditorium. I thanked God that He had heard my prayer. At least now I could have some fun.

Midway through the dance, Father came out from behind the drapes and decided to embarrass me again. He started dancing with my girlfriends. One by one, he took their hand and led them to the dance floor. He then clumsily moved them in circles as the band played. Now I tried to vanish into the drapes. After Jane had danced with him, she headed my way. Oh, no! I thought. She’s going to tell me he stomped on her foot or something.

“Grace,” she called, “you have the greatest father.”

My face fell. “What?”

She smiled at me and grabbed my shoulders. “Your father’s just the best. He’s funny, kind, and always finds the time to be where you need him. I wish my father was more like that.”

For one of the first times in my life, I couldn’t talk. Her words confused me.

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

Jane looked at me really strangely. “What do you mean, what do I mean? Your father’s wonderful. I remember when we were kids, and I’d sleep over at your house. He’d always come into your room, sit down in the chair between the twin beds, and read us a book. I’m not sure my father can even read,” she sighed, and then smiled. “Thanks for sharing him.”

Then, Jane ran off to dance with her boyfriend.

I stood there in silence.

A few minutes later, Paul came to stand beside me.

“He’s sure having a lot of fun.”

“What? Who? Who is having a lot of fun?” I asked.

“Your father. He’s having a ball.”

“Yeah. I guess.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“You know, he’s always been there,” Paul said. “I remember when you and I were on the mixed-doubles soccer team. He tried out as the coach, but he couldn’t run up and down the field, remember? So they picked Jackie’s father instead. That didn’t stop him. He showed up for every game and did whatever needed to be done. He was the team’s biggest fan. I think he’s the reason we won so many games. Without him, it just would have been Jackie’s father running up and down the field yelling at us. Your father made it fun. I wish my
father had been able to show up to at least one of our games. He was always too busy.”

Paul’s girlfriend came out of the restroom, and he went to her side, leaving me once again speechless.

My boyfriend came back with two glasses of punch and handed me one.

“Well, what do you think of my father?” I asked out of the blue.

Terry looked surprised. “I like him. I always have.”

“Then why did you call him names when we were kids?”

“I don’t know. Because he was different, and I was a dumb kid.”

“When did you stop calling him names?” I asked, trying to search my own memory.

Terry didn’t even have to think about the answer. “The day he sat down with me outside by the pool and held me while I cried about my mother and father’s divorce. No one else would let me talk about it. I was hurting inside, and he could feel it. He cried with me that day. I thought you knew.”

I looked at Terry and a tear rolled down my cheek as long-forgotten memories started cascading into my consciousness.

When I was three, my puppy got killed by another dog, and my father was there to hold me and teach me what happens when the pets we love die. When I was five, my father took me to my first day of school. I was so scared. So was he. We cried and held each other that first day. The next day he became teacher’s helper. When I was eight, I just couldn’t do math. Father sat down with me night after night, and we worked on math problems until math became easy for
me. When I was ten, my father bought me a brand-new bike. When it was stolen, because I didn’t lock it up like I was taught to do, my father gave me jobs to do around the house so I could make enough money to purchase another one. When I was thirteen and my first love broke up with me, my father was there to yell at, to blame, and to cry with. When I was fifteen and I got to be in the honor society, my father was there to see me get the accolade. Now, when I was seventeen, he put up with me no matter how nasty I became or how high my hormones raged.

As I looked at my father dancing gaily with my friends, a big toothy grin on his face, I suddenly saw him differently. The handicaps weren’t his, they were mine! I had spent a great deal of my life hating the man who loved me. I had hated the exterior that I saw, and I had ignored the interior that contained his God-given heart. I suddenly felt very ashamed.

I asked Terry to take me home, too overcome with feelings to remain.

On graduation day, at my Christian high school, my name was called, and I stood behind the podium as the valedictorian of my class. As I looked out over the people in the audience, my gaze rested on my father in the front row sitting next to my mother. He sat there, in his one and only, specially made suit, holding my mother’s hand and smiling.

Overcome with emotions, my prepared speech was to become a landmark in my life.

“Today I stand here as an honor student, able to graduate with a 4.0 average. Yes, I was in the honor society for three years and was elected class president for the last two years. I led our school to championship in the debate club, and yes, I even won a full scholarship to Kenton State University so that I can continue to study physics and someday become a college professor.

“What I’m here to tell you today, fellow graduates, is that I didn’t do it alone. God was there, and I had a whole bunch of friends, teachers, and counselors who helped. Up until three weeks ago, I thought they were the only ones I would be thanking this evening. If I had thanked just them, I would have been leaving out the most important person in my life. My father.”

I looked down at my father and at the look of complete shock that covered his face.

I stepped out from behind the podium and motioned for my father to join me onstage. He made his way slowly, awkwardly, and deliberately. He had to drag his left foot up the stairs as he used his deformed right arm to balance his gait. As he stood next to me at the podium, I took his small, crippled hand in mine and held it tight.

“Sometimes we only see the silhouette of the people around us,” I said. “For years I was as shallow as the silhouettes I saw. For almost my entire life, I saw my father as someone to make fun of, someone to blame, and someone to be ashamed of. He wasn’t perfect, like the fathers my friends had.

“Well, fellow graduates, what I found out three weeks ago is that while I was envying my friends’ fathers, my friends were envying mine. That realization hit me hard and made me look at who I was and what I had become. I was brought up to pray to God and hold high principles for others and myself. What I’ve done most of my life is read between the lines of the Good Book so I could justify my hatred.”

Then, I turned to look my father in the face.

“Father, I owe you a big apology. I based my love for you on what I saw and not what I felt. I forgot to look at the one part of you that meant the most, the big, big heart God gave you. As I move out of high school and into life, I want you to know I could not have had a better father. You were always there for me, and no matter how badly I hurt you, you still showed up. Thank you!”

I took off my mortar board and placed it on his head, moving the tassel just so.

“You are the reason I am standing here today. You deserve this honor, not me.”

And as the audience applauded and cried with us, I felt God’s light shining down upon me as I embraced my father more warmly than I ever had before, tears unashamedly falling down both our faces.

For the first time, I saw my father through God’s eyes, and I felt honored to be seen with him.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

The moral of the story is that, in our own eyes, we cannot see as clearly as others can.  You may think a situation is unfortunate while someone else may love to trade you places.  The grass is not greener on the other side of the fence, but it looks greener when you’re not over there. The truth is that it’s hard to see the green beneath you when you’re standing on it.  May we be able to look at other’s flaws and imperfection through God’s eyes instead of our own and maybe we will see what makes them truly unique and amazing.

Have a great weekend we will be back on Monday.  As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated.

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ClayFuneral

It seems that 2008-2009 has held some of my happiest moments.  My happiest moment took place on February 14, 2009 when I proposed to my girlfriend Shannon and in eight days she will become my wife.  However 2008-2009 has held the loss of some of my most respected mentors.

It began in October when a long time friend and at times seemed like a second mother passed away. Fortunately her death was not sudden, but shorter then I would have liked.  She and her husband, along with my parents and one other couple has been a prime example of a Christ-like marriage for me.  She gave this world all she had to give and then some.  I have never met anyone who could be so compassionate, forgiving and loving all at the same time.  I remember when I was in college in California struggling and worrying about not finding the right one; she told my mom, “I know Chad feels like he should have met his someone by now, but I feel God just urging me to tell him to wait a little longer and it will be worth it.”  My only regret is the fact that Annette never got to meet my amazing fiancé, Shannon.  She would have loved her.  I had the honor and privileged to speak at her funeral, and I shared a verse that was in a song I wrote for Annette, “my health may fail, my spirit may grow weak but He remains strength of my heart forever.  She loved her Jesus and now she is finally with Him.”  Annette was in my life for 25 years until the Lord called her home.  Her husband is still a mentor of mine; in fact I will be driving his beautiful automobile at my wedding. 

Happiness came in February when I proposed; although this is important to me it doesn’t fit with the conversation today, so hopefully my fiancé will forgive me for making it short.

Sadness hit yet again in late May when my Mom’s dad died, my Grandpa.  We were close.  He was old but that did not make it easier, but what did was before he died (about two weeks prior) he called me up and at that time I was about to enter the jewelry store to pick out my wedding band.  He called me and had the following conversation:

Grandpa:   ”Chad, I think I won’t be here much longer,”

Chad: “California?” 

Grandpa:  “In general.  I would like you to preach at my funeral.  All I want is a clear cut gospel message that is to the point.

Chat:  “If that’s what you want, then no problem.”

My grandpa was never the type of man to beat around the bush.  He laid out his wishes with little emotion.   Little did I know that his death would be so soon after that conversation.  My grandpa died roughly two weeks later out in the desert working.  My grandpa was always a hard worker, and he died of a heart attack doing what he loved.  My grandpa was the one family voice of reassurance I heard when I was ready to give up.  He would tell me how proud I made him and such.  My Grandpa, like my father, was a true man of integrity.  He also never got to meet Shannon, and I will miss him on my wedding day.  I hope that his family relatives and kids can recognize his death as a time to move forward and heal old wounds.

Now, yesterday as I was finishing up the homework necessary so I don’t get behind while Shannon and I are on our honeymoon.  I get a message from my mom, “Mrs. Allen is knocking on the doorsteps of death.”   Sam and Marie Allen have been my family’s neighbors since I was born.  Sam and Marie were the kind of neighbors that you would go to visit expecting to talk for half an hour but the next thing you knew, four hours have gone by.  They were also the type to talk to you about girlfriends, cars, and food; and there was nothing better than when Marie said the magic words to a young boy, “Want some ice cream?” 

As of today, Marie is lying in the hospital being taken off of life support and wondering when her last breath might be taken.  So far this is not the final chapter, she has not passed yet so I will not act as if she’s going to die; I am not giving up yet until the good Lord has called her home.  She is waiting on a miracle at this time.  She has pulmonary fibrosis, and I just got off the phone with her and even on her deathbed her request was for her husband Sam.  That Sam would not hold her death against God, but be able to move on and live.  She asked if I would continue to stop in and see him and check up on him.  I didn’t cry at my grandpa’s funeral and I was somewhat emotionally disturbed at Annette’s but as I had what could be my final conversation with Marie Allen, I could feel a couple tears coming on.

Up until these past two years I have never really known anyone who has died. You know like really know them.  Twp of the three most influential people in my life has passed and a third one is at the doorstep in roughly two years.  I believe God has a plan for us, a plan for good not evil but to give us a hope and a future.  Now it seems that many people enter our lives on daily basis; some stay for a reason, some only a season and others a lifetime.  When it comes to those entering my life I have a choice, I can either leave a positive or negative impression on them.   That choice is up to me.  Some people enter for the reason of helping us cope or deal with a problem or to be a friend when no one is around.  Sometimes when that need is met they’re gone as quickly as they came. It could end sourly or fatally but they’re gone.   They were there for you; some enter our lives for seasons.  Maybe a season of loneliness or a season of death, divorce, unemployment. Then there are those like the ones I have lost who are in your life for a lifetime, they are the silent encouragers pushing you on and not letting you quit or give up.  When these people enter your life hold on to them, gleam from them, follow their examples in life, marriage, friendship etc. 

Why do this?  Because you never know when they might be gone, the last thing you want is to have something left unsaid.  Leah told me of a great idea she works a social service agency and she said she tries sending cards to loved ones at every holiday and random moment.  And not the internet greetings…but snail mail greetings.  Send them to grandparents, parents, cousins and friends sometimes when you need a life or when you feel like lifting someone or just because you see something that would be perfect for them.

You’d be surprised how great it feels to get a thank you card or phone call from someone you haven’t spoken to in what seems like a lifetime….it makes a difference, and by mail it shows you care and take time.

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It’s a mad world

This morning I woke up, got dressed, arrived at work, and started my usual day with a bagel and a Diet Coke.  Well, at about 6:00 am I sat down to type up a homework assignment.   (For those of you who don’t know, I am currently attempting to chase after my masters degree in Licensed Professional Counseling with emphasis in addictions.)  Anyway, I finish my paper and I send it off to Leah to be edited.  Usually My fiancé Shannon does my editing, but with just nine days until our wedding I know better than to do that.  When I spoke with Leah, she told me about an incident that was reported in newspapers this morning.  Here is the website so you can read it for yourself.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/07/02/maryland.toilet.birth/index.html

For those of you who would prefer the abbreviated version, I will paraphrase for you.  This woman went into a port-a-potty and gave birth to a child and let it fall in the waste below.  That’s right, there are thousands of women out there struggling to conceive, and this woman conceives and leaves her newborn in a pile of muck and human feces.  I am sorry for the graphic detail but I am not sugar coating this. 

If this woman’s actions were not absurd enough, she proceeded to simply exit the port-a-potty and have a cigarette.  The baby would not have been discovered if a nearby man had not tried to use the port-a-potty right after the woman exited.  The lady told the man that he could not use the port-a-potty because she had just had a baby in there.  When the man called 911, the woman rushed inside the port-a-potty to rescue the baby who was not only covered in filth, but also harsh chemicals.  And the punishment for such a crime?  Simply being arrested and charged a $50,000 fine.

Let’s face it; it seems obvious that America is too relaxed when it comes to punishing criminals.  This lady is a prime example, had she been in another country, she probably would have been shot or stoned on site.  So the question of the day is:  Send in a web link or recall a story where someone did not receive the punishment they deserved.  Let’s just put it this way; the lady who did this to her baby is luck y that I am not God because I cannot tolerate this type of behavior!

Please share your stories and your thought of what punishment the woman deserves.

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