I opened a friend request during one of the few moments of connectivity while I was in Sierra Leone. At first glance, I thought it was a Doug that attended my same high school. I quickly confirmed the request and moved on to the next task not knowing just how long I’d be part of the world wide web. That was the last time I’d be connected for an entire week. I didn’t miss it at all. Being fully present with people and place was a refreshing change. A week of digital disconnect has made me evaluate the time I do spend plugged into the rest of the world. Even as a digital immigrant, I can honestly acknowledge that time spent staring at a screen of any size isn’t the same as focusing my eyes on someone else’s. Having said (wrote) that, I will agree that social media has allowed me a digital method of shaking hands with new friends all over the world, including Doug, who it turns out lives in the nations capital and is a dozen years my senior. Once I left Sierra Leone and got settled under the Tuscan Sun, a personal message arrived (from Doug) requesting we meet for coffee once I returned to the Emerald City (Seattle). After a brief bit of research (use your imagination), I confirmed our time to meet during his visit to Seattle, which happen to fit in the window of my return. At Starbucks first Princi store in SODO, we both found it interesting that although we’d never met, much of his ministry work in WA D.C. was connected to many mutual friends in Seattle. Most of that commonality is through Young Life, a faith organization of which I am a fan. On a bit of a short timeline, our 60 minute coffee get together ended with an invitation to meet at a community non profit in the Rainier Beach area. That date, a week later, happened to be today at 8:30AM. Doug felt this group would benefit from my knowledge of philanthropy and grass roots fundraising.
As I searched the building numbers along Rainier Avenue, I began to get that “this all seems familiar” feeling. Pulling up to parallel park, the one story building was within a short block from the original Rainier Furniture, a business my grandfather (M.C. Snyder) pioneered in the 1950’s. His youthful, insatiable will and desire to feed his family convinced a Renton based home furnishings owner to give my grandfather a shot after he volunteered to work for no pay in an effort to demonstrate his unqualified skillset. Within the first 30 days, his new boss realized they couldn’t live without him. After the first year, he became a 50/50 partner at the next location on Rainier Ave. Arriving a few minutes early, Doug appeared and I entered under a sign: DADS (Divine Alternatives for Dads Services). Making our way to the back on the building, Doug and I entered a conference room to be greeting by a tall, middle aged man dressed like a proper Seahawks fan. Extending his good sized hand, he introduced himself and I nearly fell to the floor. His name is Marvin Charles. My grandfathers name: Marvin Charles. Needless to say, I began accepting this as a divine appointment. The purpose of this visit was in fact to see how I could impact this non profit that works to build strength in families by returning fathers home. As a community resource center, DADS exist to reduce the judicial, legal, and emotional barriers that willing fathers/families deal with, specifically in the Rainier Valley. Co-founder Marvin’s story in particular (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIYwsS-5e0U) is well beyond miraculous. Like many causes, he followed a path to solve a gigantic issue that affects every part of our culture. Fatherless isn’t part of my past. In fact, I regularly give thanks that I have a father, and a late grandfather that represent most of my sacred values. After 90 minutes of sharing stories and connecting community dots, I brought up my own mothers past in the area. Just two miles from DADS, is the spot I can easily declare as the source of who I am when it comes to serving others. My Mother operated Starter School on Empire Way (MLKJr Way) in the 1970’s. Each day, my Mother and my sister Carol cared for 100 of Seattle’s most vulnerable children. Each came from a different uneven path and many experienced the intersection of broken families and foster care. Coming out of the free loving 1960’s, this was the period of crack cocaine, and limited personal responsibility. Starter School was smack in the middle of Holly Park, a neighborhood even the police found challenging to keep a handle on. During her tenue, Director Jean brought in her own children (myself included) to help in nearly every role. It’s during that time, I received the lesson every privileged, suburban white kid needs to have. Being in service to those most challenged, fatherless kids, was an outstanding way of accepting my responsibility to serve others, even though I was just 10 years old. And so, the unending compassion circle my Mother started four decades ago continues.