More Than Just Tea

Most of my 7th-grade class at our small 1950s school shared a reverent respect for our English teacher, Mrs. Burkhardt.  She resembled a less sanctified version of a Mother Superior and a more modern edition of Harry Potter’s Professor McGonagall. She often assigned us memory work and quizzed us to reinforce and cement it in our neocortex, which we learned about from Miss Jameson.

                The popular American poet, Robert Frost, was a favorite of hers. His work, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, is a favorite of mine. The recent snow and ice cap across our city brought familiar lines of the poem back into my conscience. With two weeks of work in Orange Mound suspended, I relished reviewing the poem’s many-layered themes.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are, I think I know.   
His house is in the village though; 
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

For fourteen days, I mused over the rhythms of the poem and Frost’s sensually packed lines in iambic tetrameter.

          “[T]he woods fill up with snow,” was my view daily from my office window.

          “The woods are lovely, dark and deep.” I pondered if “dark woods” could represent the often hostile, inhospitable place the MCOT ladies call home. Shadows in their woods of uncertainty and suspicion can inhibit and delay wise choices. Sadly, on many days, we have brought only a measure of light into the shadows of our neck of the woods in the middle of Memphis.   

          “But I have promises to keep.” That adage reminded and refreshed my commitment to obey the Lord’s command to love my neighbors in Orange Mound.

          “And miles to go before I sleep” is said twice by Frost, and on repeat in my head practically daily.

          The “snowcation” melted away when roads cleared. We returned to work, and I learned that two of our most recent hires had relapsed into their lives on the streets. Addictions and deceptions had swallowed up all their good intentions. Wanting to change had sincerely marked their cravings to work at My Cup of Tea. More insidious was the craving to return to the more familiar streets.

 My deepest sadness was that I had to watch the crushing pattern cancel my hopes and prayers for them. The very instincts that had kept them alive on the streets had become barriers in pursuing honest fellowship with our family of employees and prioritizing steady and rewarding work among us.  Each had prodigious strength and survival skills that couldn’t translate into the structured demands of our workplace at The House.

          Upholding our standards at My Cup of Tea overruled my sorrow. It was the heartbreak of watching a door opening, a glimpse of the potential of a different future for each of them, and then watching the door slowly close. So much potential had been undermined by gaps in trust and cracks in consistency. I grieved over the collision of my duty to the organization and my compassion for two women I love and have endorsed.

          Upholding my personal standards gave muscle to my vision of hope and redemption. The culture of “the streets” encourages the moral compromise that some have been steeped in for generations.  The Mound, while unique in many ways, still mirrors our society, celebrating self-expression, instant reward, quick fixes, and independence from judgement.  There are endemic pride and moxie which are contagious and reckless for all of us.

          Proverbs 14:12: “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end leads to destruction.”

           “If it feels right, do it” is a sentiment challenged daily in the workrooms at My Cup of Tea. Our mentors, administrators, and veteran ladies reiterate frequently that wisdom comes through wise, informed choices, prayer, and Biblical instruction.

Traction in the personal trials is modeled among our leaders and managers and is esteemed by all. Kindness to others and keenness in common sense are the consummate prayers they offer for each beloved lady.

 We continue to encourage all to travel a different path than many in their families and neighborhoods have tread. The broad path is full of ruts and roundabouts. Proverb 14:12 warns that the path is broad, but it does not negate the power of a single light pointing the narrow way.

           Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening gently underscores the fundamental choice that falls to us all.  We choose the dark woods or return to the righted route to resolve, restraint, responsibility, and respect.

          We all have made promises that we hope to keep, and have miles to go before we sleep.

One of our elegantly dressed My Cup of Tea Board Members recently confided in me a seminal truth with a wink. Behind her winsome glamour and feminine composure, she could be a car mechanic.  Her father taught her to own a car, not just drive one.  She knew its oil, tires, and the rhythm of its engine.  It was inherited power, and she was willing to share it with the ladies. At my request, she joined us for lunch recently to give her insights.

 My hidden agenda was for her to address the contagious mindset of many Orange Mound ladies during tax season.   Many will receive needed incoming cash from the use of the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC). It is a refundable tax credit for low-to-moderate-income working individuals. The amounts vary and people with children qualify for more, but the amount of the credit compared to the amount of taxes most pay often results in a not insignificant refund. Our guest suspected that most of the ladies weren’t planning on applying  the refund dollars to savings, interest on debts, or tithes.  

“How do you plan to spend your tax refund?” she asked. In unison, most shouted, “A CAR!”

She had earned their respect with her reported savvy in repairing and maintaining automobiles, so she easily held their attention with the more critical subject of purchasing one.

 She came prepared.  She hit them with a pop quiz on used car smartness hoping to uncover a secret gearhead in our group.  Only one in our classroom of twelve knew   what Carfax was.  She continued and governed their riveted attentiveness as she filled our white board with lists of the clever tricks the used car salesmen have mastered.

 All learned quite a bit, and at least that day, each committed to be more alert and suspicious of the smooth auspicious scams that await the uninformed and overzealous who need a dependable car.

                Transportation is the #1 priority for them, for without it they feel, and are truly stuck. Lack of reliable transportation is a massive, often overlooked, structural barrier in the lives of the women. It limits job access, shopping radius, punctuality, and reliability.  Countless call-ins because the car won’t start is common to our workdays at MCOT. Often the truancy that plagues our neighborhood schools is the result of mom without a reliable car.  To stay mobile, many use Uber Rides, which cuts into the margins of cash for essentials and any attempt to save.

 Our solution to meet their transportation emergencies during the workdays at the tea company is providing a reliable, licensed, insured, and gracious carpool driver employee. My Cup of Tea provides fuel and car maintenance for her vehicle.

The car is no more critical than the road they take.

                Among assistance to the myriad needs and requests of our ladies, and the provisions and guidelines we offer, our focus is lasered to guiding them to the safe streets of life. We can’t control the elements, but we can co-pilot as they navigate their personal journey. We are devoted to helping them read the map, find the way, and reach their destinations. Important life decisions--whom to trust, where to go, how to grow, and what to know--are located along the way.

 Today’s map of choice is GPS. The Global Positioning System, familiar and easily accessible, shows you as a blue dot, and your destination is a red dot.  Your route is the line that connects. The Mentors with whom the ladies have bonded offer  Godly Perspective Service.  They are each a GPS for coaching and praying through reliable external and internal complexities that everyone must face.  Navigating any new neighborhood is challenging, especially when done without a reliable signal.

Poverty is exhausting.

There are one-way streets to destruction, bumpy lanes under construction, blind alleys, and blockades that keep one simply circling the block and repeating the cycle one just left.

Poverty is relentless.

Many of our employees come to us during a time of financial hardship, often utilizing public assistance programs to meet basic needs. They often lack the knowledge and the sharp, rested mind to navigate complex systemic poverty. The offramp is not well marked.

Poverty is systemic.

We often discuss their hopes and prayers for their children and grandchildren. They work sacrificially, dedicated to securing a better life for them. They point the illumined headlights of their broken-down cars toward the better choices on the other side of the many traffic stops. Life’s path to the promised land of independence and economic stability is missing streetlights.

With mentors and our wraparound embrace of each, we are bulldozing some of the roadblocks away. Prayers are many for their patience to wait for the honest car salesman and purchase of a dependable car.  Once she is in the driver’s seat with a full tank of hope, we will join in the road trip focusing on the GPS to greater prosperity and stay within the speed limits leaving poverty in the dust.

Thursday was a weary day draped in dreary gray, not uncommon to this time of year. At My Cup of Tea, our central heat was challenged to keep us warm and comfortable.  All the ladies had defaulted to self-pity and yammering about life’s flaws and slights. Our work assignments were unchallenging and laborious. Debbie had all of them totaling inventory and sweeping together product markdowns for our customers who still have solvency after the Christmas season.  

Solvency was not in the conversations around the worktables. Several had asked when the annual federal tax refunds would be available. Tax refunds provide ample financial relief for low-income families in early February. Many of the ladies qualify, prompting impatience and a catalog of woes for the delay.

Mired in discontent, four of them knocked on the office door hoping for an interest free loan from our piggy bank. We have an emergency fund fed by a small sum of the ladies for the benefit of all. It plumps up after pay day, but after Christmas it is on life support. Though constantly urged to save, the ladies have no savings or cash reserve. Like many people, most of the ladies regularly succumb to the charm of affordable instant upgrades at the beauty aisle of the neighborhood drugstore.

Generous support from our friends and philanthropists is our lifeblood and we are constantly blessed.  On this day, however, a new and quite unlikely philanthropy graced our sullen environment with three very large brown boxes housing blankets of brilliant hue. Each had been crocheted by a male inmate from Whiteville Tennessee Correctional Facility.  Twenty-four stunningly intricately woven lap or shoulder coverings were offered in kindness by men who have no savings or tax refunds. A very good, but impossible, day for them would be to work with benefits at a secure job with heat, comfortable chairs, and the freedom to go home at the end of the workday.

As each of our ladies chose her gift and wrapped herself in the luxury of soft wool, the complaints ceased abruptly, shamed into silence by the realization that this kindness came from talented, selfless strangers who possessed nothing but time on their hands and none of the comforts and freedoms most of us take for granted. None chose to remain in an unhappy state.

             We always choose between seeing the glass as half full or half empty. It’s a choice that remains, even for those most blessed. In moments of self-pity, the Lord often gently corrects by reminding us that His provision extends beyond our material want and wishes to His agenda to heal our ungrateful and stubborn hearts.

            All adjourned after lunch with an elegant addition to her wardrobe, a genuine smile, and perhaps a notion to bless a stranger with her surplus of time and treasure and talent.