Words are powerful. According to Proverbs 18:21..."the tongue has the power of life and death." For those of you who regularly read my blog, you know that I write straight from my heart...that I choose my words thoughtfully...that I am passionate and authentic...that I care deeply. You also know that I am not afraid to confront the difficult issues...that I am committed to seeking and speaking truth...that I will NOT hide behind ‘political correctness'. I seek neither recognition nor affirmation...I just want to be 'REAL'.
In my lifetime, I've had three seemingly unrelated careers...I've been a comedy club manager/emcee, an interior designer/mural artist and a REALTOR®. Although it appears that these three careers have absolutely nothing in common, there is a single thread that interconnects one to the other...I followed my heart and passionately pursued my dreams.
In 2000, my neatly woven life unraveled. After fifteen years of marriage to my junior high school sweetheart, I was single...something I NEVER imagined would happen to me. I was devastated and lost... trying desperately to find my way through the storm that threatened to destroy me. At times, I was tempted to give in and give up...as I felt powerless to fight. In those moments, I did the only thing I knew...I reached out to God for strength and courage...for peace in the midst of my storm. He was always there...always faithful...even when I was not.
Resolute that I would not allow the unfortunate circumstances of my life to determine the outcome of my life, I volunteered to teach an adult education class at a local church. Within a few weeks, I was in love again...with life and with my wonderful students. The fire of my spirit was reignited...the clouds had drifted away...the sun was shining again.
After several months, I developed many close and special relationships with my students. Often, I received invitations to attend birthday parties and other family celebrations...an honor I cherished. I loved visiting their homes and having the opportunity to get to know them personally. They were always so gracious and kind to me...going to great lengths to express their gratitude for my volunteering to teach their class.
One beautiful Sunday afternoon, I drove out to the country to attend a student's cookout. Following the directions, I pulled my car into a driveway...situated between two dilapidated mobile homes. The numbers above the crooked door on the left indicated that I was indeed at the right home, but I could not exit my car. My eyes were locked on the scene taking place at the other mobile home...two small children laughing and playing in the front yard...kicking a ball back and forth to one another. That is what children do, right? I'm not finished with the story. The stench was unmistakable...the children were splashing around in raw sewage. The yard was flooded.
Sitting in my car, I considered my options. I could get out of my car and enjoy the party...OR...I could attempt to help that family and THOSE precious children. As I walked toward their front door, avoiding the deepest puddles, I tried to find the ‘right words' to tell the parents that their front yard was not a safe place for their children to play...that the law requires landlords to maintain the home in a safe and habitable condition...and that I (a stranger) wanted to help them.
Before I made it across the yard, a man appeared on the front porch. His questioning look beckoned me to explain my presence...but I still had not found those words I sought. I said, "Hi sir, my name is Elizabeth. I noticed that you have a problem with some flooding in your front yard, and I want to help you." His expression did not change, and he did not speak. "You see, sir, if you rent...your landlord is required by law to fix this problem. Do you mind me asking...do you rent this home?" Shame washed across his face, and he said, "Yes...we have been renting this trailer for three years. We've always had a problem with the septic tank. The landlord tried to fix it a few times, but it did not work. We can't do anything about it."
Feeling fire rising up inside of me, I said "YES...you can do something about it! I will call your landlord right now and remind him of his legal obligation. He does not have any choice. Legally, he must repair the problem if he wants to continue collecting rent from you. You have rights. You don't have to take this anymore. There are people who will help you." I'll never forget his response..."Elizabeth, thank you for wanting to help me and my family. I appreciate it. But, you don't understand. I can't take that chance. What if he gets mad and kicks us out? Where will we go? I know this isn't much, but this is the only home we have. Please don't call him." He then explained to me that he paid $750 for that broken-down trailer...$150 per head. Having no choice but to honor his request, I shook his hand...and looking one last time at the children who were holding tightly onto his legs, I turned to go...a deep sadness following close behind me.
The next morning, arriving at the gorgeous home owned by my design client (a famous, professional athlete), I thought once again of those children. To myself, I asked the question "Why do some have so much and others so little?" As I painted the giant mural on the ceiling of his home theater, I saw their faces in my mind's eye...and it always led me back to the image of them playing in that cesspool of human waste. At one point, I thought..."This guy does not need me. He can buy anybody or anything he wants. Those children...they need me. Who do they have on their side?"
For days...weeks...I could not escape the images of those children. I thought of them during the day, and I dreamed of them at night. I questioned why God had allowed me to see them that Sunday afternoon...to know of their suffering...if I could not help them. So...I reasoned...I just had to find a way...I had to do SOMETHING.
On the following Monday morning, I began calling every organization of which I was aware to find assistance for that family. Every person with whom I spoke suggested that I call someone else...and I did. By the end of the day, I had called everyone...to no avail. Sitting at my desk...holding my face in my hands...feeling defeated and overwhelmed...I prayed...asking God for direction and answers. Somewhere in the depths of my soul...I heard my answer...in the form of a question..."what are YOU going to do?" "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?" "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?"
After a long, restless night...I finally made a decision to end my design career and become a real estate agent. I told my crew and my clients that same day. EVERYONE insisted that I was just ‘going through something'...that I should not make a rash decision. Too late...I had already made my decision. I finished the home in which I was working, immediately went to work in a small real estate office for $12/hour (to learn the business from the inside) and enrolled in real estate school. I had a dream...a vision...a goal...and I had the image of those children fueling my internal fire. Most of you know the end of the story.
But wait! In my title...I stated that my story would make some people angry.
IF you have read this far...I hope you are angry that a greedy landlord would take advantage of that family...and place those innocent children in danger. I hope that I successfully transferred the intensity of their suffering to you...and I hope you understand why I made the decision I made. I hope you feel the ugliness of the scene I witnessed...that it turns your stomach inside out. I hope you are asking yourself this question..."What would I have done?" I hope you feel what I felt...what I feel everyday!
As I shared my story, I intentionally left out a few details. I did that because I did not wish for these details to influence your reaction to the story. Even now...I hope that it will not change how you feel...although I respect your right to have and express your opinion.
•· The adult education class I taught...was ‘English as a Second Language'. I had 25 adult students from 12 different Spanish-speaking countries. When I first volunteered to teach that class, I only knew five words of Spanish. The ‘teacher' became the ‘student'.
•· Those children who I saw playing in the flooded front yard of the broken-down mobile home were Hispanic. Their father refused my help because he was not a legal US citizen...fearful and believing that EVEN THOUGH he paid his $750 rent...he had NO RIGHT to demand a safe home for his family. And what about those children? Those children were born in Raleigh, North Carolina. They are 100% legal US citizens...just like you and me.
•· The decision I made...My Goal...My Purpose: To dedicate my life to ‘even the playing field' for those whose rights have been abused. To assist families to obtain safe, affordable housing...a home in which to raise their children...fertile soil in which to plant their roots and grow into something beautiful. To be a voice for those who cannot speak for themselves because they don't speak English or don't know their legal rights. To invest in the lives of children today...to build their confidence and self esteem...so that they will become strong, independent adults tomorrow. To recognize and respect the sanctity and dignity of every life...to treat every person equally regardless of their social or legal status. To make a difference in this world...one life at a time.
At what point did the GREAT United States of America...the 'melting pot' of the world...become a place where we have to know someone's legal status before we will come to their aid? What about this?
Matthew 25: 31-45
"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'
They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'
He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'"
God bless YOU!
To read this post in Spanish:
Written and Posted by:
Elizabeth Nieves - Broker, REALTOR® -- The Elizabeth Nieves Realty Group @ Keller Williams (A Bilingual Real Estate Team serving Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill NC and surrounding areas.)
Visit our website at http://www.elizabethnieves.com
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