Oksana Neitzke has been a close friend of mine for over 30 years. We met in Rivne, Ukraine, in 1992, shortly after the Berlin Wall fell in 1989. Doors across Eastern Europe that had been shut for generations opened, including the door to Ukraine. I joined my church friends as we walked through that door many times on a dozen mission trips to share the Gospel. Oksana, my translator, made sure every word of hope was heard.

A quick study with a servant’s heart, Oksana has steadily broadened her influence for the Kingdom throughout former communist regions, multiplying her impact far beyond what any of us could have imagined over the last 30 years.

More recently, she perfected her knowledge of a proper afternoon tea during my visit to Germany three years ago and has cultivated ideas from our website. Always a quick study, Oksana grasps not only its elegance but its spirit, the gracious ritual of tea served well.

By trade, she’s a hotelier. She and her husband own and run Hotel Kirchbuhl, in the Black Forrest of Eastern Germany, where guests check in as strangers and somehow check out feeling like family. By calling, she’s a champion for refugee children, displaced by the war in Ukraine. And by gift, she’s a journalist who believes every person carries a story worth telling, and who takes the time to tell it well.

During a delightful visit to Memphis this Summer, she cleverly tucked “Marie” into nooks and crannies at The House to share the story. This weekend she posted the delightful tribute that follows:

A BLACK FOREST LADY WALKS INTO MY CUP OF TEA…

Under the Stars and Stripes, thousands of miles from her beloved Black Forest, Schwarzwald Marie found herself on an American adventure. 

Some people travel to Memphis for the Blues. Others come for Elvis, barbecue, or a pilgrimage to Graceland. And Marie? She had an entirely different destination in mind.

A true Black Forest girl, dressed in her finest traditional costume, with a hat carrying enough cherries to bake an entire Black Forest cake. And what had brought her to the American South? She was looking for tea, naturally. What else?

Marie comes from a part of Germany where hospitality is an old and serious business. At Hotel Kirchbühl in Schönau im Schwarzwald, we have been opening our doors to travelers since 1850. We know that the best conversations often begin with a cup of something warm and something delicious on a plate. So, when Marie arrived at My Cup of Tea in historic Orange Mound, she discovered something that felt wonderfully familiar, despite the thousands of miles between Memphis and the Black Forest. A place where a cup of tea is about much more than what is in the teapot; It is about people, about stories, about making room at the table, about the beautiful, slightly old-fashioned idea that a stranger needs not remain a stranger for very long.

And suddenly, Marie's American adventure made perfect sense. Perhaps she hadn't travelled across the ocean to discover something new after all. Perhaps she had travelled all that way to rediscover something she already knew; that wherever kind people gather around a table, a little piece of home comes into being.

Memphis, you have a new friend in the Schwarzwald. And she has a very large hat.

With love, tea, and a generous slice of cake,

Your Schwarzwald Marie.

On days ending in “y”, the entire workspace for all the ladies at My Cup of Tea is an elaborate waiting room for lunch.  Daily, just before noon, a volunteer arrives with his or her version of an appetizing meal for us all. Throughout each month, thirty women and a couple of men, devoted to our mission, cook or hire good cooks to bring or send fresh offerings of sauce-cloaked, steaming perfections. The work pace dips when the meal-of-the-day transport turns into the parking lot.

Once in place, the My Cup of Tea hostess, whose job is kitchen duty, rings the lunch bell and a synchronized stampede from all directions begins. Once gathered, our benefactor greets us, describes her main course, and then prays for us.  On our best days, she will stay and join us at the table.

Occasionally the menu requires an explanation. Perhaps it is shrimp and grits, which is unfamiliar to one of our newer employees.  Crabmeat Mornay, a favorite for several, is explained to be made with simple ingredients but dressed up a bit. All of us who share our resources with the ladies of Orange Mound are gently elevating and nurturing fresh and beautiful layers of life together.

Quite often, the familiar, wholesome aroma of any version of bread baking in our oven announces, “Come quickly while it is hot.” Exquisite desserts are on a separate table to be admired, and subtly chide all to eat the main course first. 

During the recent scorching heat wave, cold salads like Nina’s chicken pasta salad or Elizabeth’s personal recipe of zesty green beans are recognized and devoured.  The heat never seems to stifle the appetites. We always serve tea, of course.

Several times a month, a meal of KFC or Hop Daddy appears at the door, and all sink into and savor the rare treat of an expensive meal from a fast food restaurant typically saved for payday or a celebration.

Lately, we have sampled cucumber sandwiches, now a favorite, and pimento cheese on pumpernickel bread.  Sourdough muffins have become a weekly extra since Debbie has begun keeping her sourdough starter alive.   

Lettuce from our garden has enhanced some of the offerings, and an abundant harvest of jalapeños from several plants outside has begged for more attention.  One of the volunteers candied them, and several of us have embroidered simple sandwiches with the hot sweet delicacy.

Some of our ladies will request a recipe, more than once or twice, which is a novel way to thank the cook, but no one ever seems to have made it at home.

“What’s for dinner” isn’t a problem for anyone because plenty of leftovers are sealed for carry-home. 

Often, the busy volunteers, who have other “fish to fry,” will request Doris to cater their monthly offering for the 10 or more women who dine daily.  Doris never needs prodding, even when the request is late the night before showtime.  Doris reaches back into her soul food on a budget muscle memory.   Translating rustic elegance with respect, last week, I simply didn’t recognize the tails of pigs nestled in the cabbage.  However, the ladies from Orange Mound knew them well and were delighted.  Doris fries baby chicken wings in her iron skillet and encourages us to chew and swallow the bones.  She garnishes cornbread, which I do recognize, with collard greens and oxtail, when it is available.  She harvests anything still on the vine in our garden boxes across Carnes on the East side of the parking lot.  She has a secret recipe to soften stringy, over-mature okra only fit for a pig trough.

Nothing says a plate of hers is balanced without two carbs, and since all the ladies brag on her mac and cheese, fried potatoes, and grits, two portions must sandwich the biscuits on each lady’s paper plate.

Obviously, The House of Orange Mound must offer more than coaching in home economics and nutrition because white bread soft enough to tear, liver cheese, Spam that tastes like childhood, and Vienna sausages that remind them of simpler times are still at the corner dollar store, affordable, and on the way home.

Though 3028 Carnes is anchored in a food desert, the House stands as an oasis where nourishment extends far beyond what addresses their hunger. Here, in this home, we have a view toward respect and dignity. Every meal prepared carries with it a message that it is brought with a servant’s heart to all here because they are valued and irreplaceable.

We are a sanctuary, and some days a five-star restaurant as well, where the ladies know they matter; they belong to a community that has refined their tastes, supported and loved them, and daily served up a feast to be enjoyed among friends.

September is the time of year when we select an artist to create the artwork for a limited-edition tea we premiere in October. The box and tea are popular items for the holidays and beyond because of the inspiring art we have featured and how the contest strives to support local Black artists.

Last week we convened with our judges. The seven members of the team worked conscientiously and followed a fair and deliberate process that was appropriate for an art contest.

Some of the judges are working artists or have an artistic background, so they could spot the technical mistakes and areas for improvement. They were comfortable assessing the submissions and confident in their choices. They had relevant experience. We will call them the “Technicians.”

Others do not have training in visual arts, nor are they paid in their careers to be creative. These judges were more hesitant to criticize, unsure what was “right” or “wrong” about the art but eventually joined those with the artistic backgrounds to reach consensus. These are the “Novices.”

The remaining judges landed somewhere in the middle. Perhaps they know something about painting or photography; they are collectors of art or hope to be. Nevertheless, they had strong opinions about the submissions, and no problems weighing in on someone else’s creative passion despite a lack of extensive experience. They had a job to do. Let’s call them the “Doers.”

The views of the judges were varied, and all were valid. They chose an accomplished artist with an amazing portfolio whose work will be well-received by customers and the community. The goal, after all, was to choose a winner.

A problem, though, is that the archetypes represented by our tea box art judges (Technicians, Novices, Doers) exist in our daily lives. Rather than contributing to something beautiful, worthwhile, and a benefit to others, these self-appointed adjudicators apply unrealistic standards to the lives of those with whom they come in contact. What is more problematic is that most of us are among one of these categories of judges.

The Technicians have erred in many of the same ways as those around them, but they have overcome or are overcoming, so they are quick to point out our flaws, often without the same level of grace and understanding they were once afforded. Instead, they could offer an ear, a relevant perspective, and if requested, gentle advice.

The Novices approach others in the correct way – cautious and hesitant to be critical. Unfortunately, they are often co-opted by the Technicians and the Doers, rather than giving others the benefit of the doubt. Novices should trust their instincts and remind themselves that there is likely much they do not know about the lives of others.

The Doers may not judge quickly. They want to be seen as wise and experienced, but their judgement can be harsh. Doers may justify the harm caused by their “verdicts” because they believe they are helping others to become “better people.”

When describing the environment at The House, we have often used the term “judgement-free,” and to be sure there is far less judgement within the walls of 3028 Carnes than in many other places. All of us, however, are guilty of judging. Sustaining a judgement-free environment is a conscious choice which requires daily discipline.

Praying together – Orange Mound ladies, volunteers, and sometimes guests – is essential. It diverts our attention away from ourselves and the superficial. Mentors and mentees socializing outside of My Cup of Tea helps us to better understand one another and recognize how we are alike. Sharing a meal daily breaks down barriers and stereotypes.

A Middle Eastern proverb says, “He who shares his food shares his heart,” and in Acts 2: 46-47, in addressing the early Christian Church, Scripture says, “And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people.”

Unlike the tea box art contest, the goal of life is not to identify a single winner. We are not participants in some worldwide version of “The Hunger Games.”

Many of us remember the passage in Scripture where Jesus says, “Judge not that you be not judged.” (Matthew 7:1) Jesus then goes on to discuss the speck in our brother’s eye versus the log in our own. A few verses later, in Matthew 7:12, we receive the “Golden Rule.”

“So, whatever you wish others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.”

And who of us wishes to be judged?

It’s 901 Day for 1.06 million people who live in the roughly 800 square miles in and around Memphis. This includes a favorite lady who lives in Orange Mound.

Jane (That’s what we’ll call her) didn’t finish middle school. To her, 901 Day means that there are special gift-wrap assignments and more customers than usual as she works at the House in Orange Mound. Her cell phone number starts with the area code 901, but she doesn’t know that 901 is a geographic region.

She fits into the classification called Below Basic Literacy, BBL, which means she lacks the minimal skills needed to perform simple literacy tasks.   Though she has a firm handle on her neighborhood, she cannot read the road signs. Her limited world can be walked in forty-five minutes.

Jane has mastered her daily route to work on foot through eight blocks she knows by heart in Orange Mound. She leaves home every weekday morning at 8:15, passes the Dollar Store just before she reaches Park Avenue.  If she has five dollars and time allows, she stops into Church’s Fried Chicken for two biscuits and a Coke.  She continues to the corner of Park and Semmes and turns north.  She waves at the people who are passing her in their cars, and nods at one or two neighbors who are headed South to the bus stop.  She deftly steps around the countless holes and cracks in the crumbled concrete sidewalk, as if walking on autopilot.

Her mind, however, is deeply occupied in prayer with the collective needs of her children and grandchildren.  Last weekend she housed and fed 15 of the 20 who live in Memphis, in her two-bedroom apartment for three days. A storm and straight-line winds cut through Memphis on August 22nd, disabling thousands of MLGW customers. Her kids’ rentals lost power for four days. She had to miss work on Monday even though she needed the money.

Tuesday, she reached work at 3028 Carnes by 8:45 and left her imaginary backpack of intercessory prayers on the wide front porch.  At 2:00 pm, she gathered them up and reversed her 30-minute walk back home, a little more slowly in the hot and humid Memphis afternoon.

She is in control in the corner of her two-mile-radius world. The package store, work, the loan company, her sister’s “hair salon,” and her brother’s rental are all within her personal area code: 000.

Her little world is deep, not wide.  Scarcity of options makes life a little less complicated when survival is the priority. Her energy goes daily to family, food, and shelter. Poverty and time shrink a person’s map in Memphis, and level the geography to sidewalks, curbs, and busy streets.

Jane can’t easily leave the turf she knows, and as a result, the rest of the city is abstract. Political or civic rallies, voting poll locations, alternate school options, and fully stocked grocery stores are invisible unless someone gives her a ride and she pays for the gas. Resources, recreation opportunities, and shopping centers a few more miles out might feel like a different country, not the city she calls Memphis.

However, Jane is managing her two-mile radius like a dancer knows her marks. Her small world is deep with what matters: family, faith, and the ladies with whom she works.  She has sorted out ways to encourage her coworkers and is often the first to sense their sorrows. She holds her family close, and the Lord holds her even closer.

Jane is content, always at peace and at rest in a noisy world full of distraction. She has distilled what most are trying to find in the vast shallows of our troubled community. She doesn’t need a bigger map because she has, by grace, never been lost in her world. She is the leading lady in a story worthy of reading. She is honored and respected. She is one of our valued and beloved employees at My Cup of Tea.

When shopping for tea is not a priority among our many loyal customers, we give sway to the back-to-school sales, giveaways, and specials.  Though tea sales are consistent but not robust, the ladies need their income, good meals, cool and dry spaces, safety, and fellowship. For the last ten years, we have filled the late summer months with morale boosters, lectures, encouragements, and pep talks.

We invite a gaggle of professionals to join us for lunch and share insights, as we all need to find strength for today and hope for tomorrow. Recently, one of our board members developed a fresh curriculum to replace our outdated “Work for Life” program. We anticipate younger ladies will arrive in September for the new and improved My Cup of Tea employment opportunity. Stephanie White’s original curriculum is the initial course from which each will be trained.

                As they haven’t arrived, Stephanie has led a first look at our new “Preparing for Work” classes for our current employees.  All well know the flow of tea in and tea out at the House; however, none have been familiar with the possibilities of learning more about themselves, others with whom they work, and the imperatives of being dependable at MCOT.

 Our pursuit of growth has previously involved guidance from esteemed scholars, pastors, laymen, theologians, and global missionaries. Yet, it was Stephanie’s hometown voice that truly pierced the corporate shell of indifference that had settled over our team. Through the SAGE framework, her invention -- Self-awareness, Accountability, Growth, and Excellence – she has effectively recalibrated our approach to work ethic, workplace ecosystems, and our culture of prayer and release. Previously, many of our employees were so immersed in personal challenges that they could not offer their full hearts and minds to the mission of My Cup of Tea.

The predictable initial hesitancy regarding new agendas has been completely dissolved by her hands-on workshops, which have sparked a tangible revival of interest, confidence, and cohesion among our staff.

She has given us a gift that all formal education could not.  While we have learned from PHD’s and theologians, missionaries, and pastors, the SAGE framework has given the ladies a new lens to view their work, their prayer life, and their potential. The existing team, weary from personal battles and unsure of the future, has been fortified with a renewed sense of confidence and purpose. The atmosphere at work continues to be transformed.

Her techniques have been colorful and creative. Venn diagrams, colors to represent emotions, direct challenges on self-awareness, personal interviews, and balloon releases of prayer requests contribute to mental and emotional “spa days”.  I am equally matched by all of the ladies in anticipation of each of her teaching days. She has revived us all in time for the beginning of our big shopping season, which begins in September. She has given us the tools to re-engage with our mission. The initial wariness toward change has been replaced with a vibrant excitement.

            She has extended an invitation to vulnerability—not as a demand, but as a brave and generous offering. She has asked each of us to distill ourselves into a single word, stripping away the noise and pretense that so often guard our hearts. In doing so, she has pulled back the bandage gently but firmly, creating a sacred space where we might hear how others truly see us.

            Not every reflection has been tender. Some words have landed like unexpected stones, sharp and uncomfortable. Yet even in that discomfort, something rich has taken root. For in those unfiltered glimpses, we have been handed a mirror—not to shame us, but to grow us. What felt like judgment has become an invitation: to soften, to repent, to mature, and to become more fully who we are meant to be.

            Her courage has not been reckless; it has been rooted in a deep and patient love. She has not asked us to be perfect, only honest. She has not promised ease, only truth. And in that truth, there is grace—the kind that sanctifies not by polishing us overnight, but by walking with us through the long, sacred work of becoming.

            Her most defining moment—the one that will stay with me- was the way she turned the spotlight onto L. Cool, the woman who tends our grounds and keeps our building whole. L. Cool is the only one who quietly carpools the women who have no ride, who makes our deliveries across the city, who watches over our property on the weekends.

            When Stephanie asked us, “Who can do what she does?” no one spoke. Silence. Eyes lowered. Because we all knew the answer.

            Stephanie continued, her voice steady with reverence: “L. Cool’s work ethic is unmatched. Her efforts are the reason we stand before every visitor in beauty: the gardens, the front lawn, the majestic building that greets our community. Our brand begins at the curb, in the pride and dignity of what she tends, long before the first tea box is ever seen.” In that moment, we understood that she wasn't just honoring one woman. She was teaching us to see the sacred in the unseen.

It’s hard to believe that summer is over – at least practically speaking. Today is the first day of school for Memphis Shelby County School students. For some of our subscribers in other parts of the country, an August 3^rd start seems insane, but it has become the norm where many lack summer childcare for their children, and the scourge of dismal literacy and math proficiency scores benefits from the early start.

We have written before about the often chaotic lives of some of the ladies we have served over the years. Of course, finances are a struggle. Transportation to and from work and the grocery store is often a challenge. Gunshots, gang activity, and run-of-the-mill theft are commonplace. There are appliances that don’t work, or that never existed. Electricity is turned off because of unpayable bills created by sieve-like housing allowing the cold air to pass through.

Often the start of school is a blessing for mothers and children. It is a place that, despite all of the children and activities, brings temporary peace and stability to the lives of children. There is an assurance of a meal, often lunch and breakfast. There is structure and order in most cases – a time to learn, to play, to go to the restroom, and to be quiet. Yes, there are stories of out-of-control classrooms, disruptive students, and even teachers who perhaps should consider another profession, but more often than not, the school day is consistent and reliable.

Many years ago, we learned at My Cup of Tea the importance of things like order, safety, and peace. In fact, in the hierarchy of needs, there are times when these attributes of work at The House outrank wages. Many of the ladies have told us that they want to stay because of the environment, not the pay or the work they do. We pay a fair wage but can only offer part-time work without benefits. Given the choice between a full-time opportunity and staying with us, most have chosen us.

If you follow our work, you know we are implementing a pilot program to help new recruits learn employable skills and seek full-time jobs. It is available for our legacy workers, too. Even though the ladies pursuing this path will not spend years with us, this model must also be fashioned with order, safety, and peace. These are the coveted fringe benefits for ladies whose lives are often unpredictable and chaotic.

Debbie, our long-time operations manager, often paraphrases I Corinthians 14:33 by saying, “My God is not a god of chaos. He is a God of order.” One visit to The House demonstrates that she lives by that mantra. Every room is organized and neat. Each room has a specified activity to be performed by the ladies in that room. The materials are present and easily accessible. There is a daily schedule. It is the one place, the one portion of the day, that the ladies know what to expect, and what is expected of them.

The word peace, depending on which translation of Scripture you read, is mentioned 249 (NIV) to 429 (KJV) times. Descriptions of God often include the word peace, as in II Thessalonians 3:16, “Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all.” And, if you believe that we are made in His image (Genesis 1:27), then it is no wonder that we yearn for peace in our lives.

Each of us desires peace in our daily lives at some level. We are rattled by strings of bad news, the chaos of world events, or the health crisis of a loved one, for example. Yet, most of us never worry if there will be enough to eat, if the utilities will be turned off, or if we will be injured or worse by a stray bullet crashing through the window in the middle of the night. For most of the ladies at My Cup of Tea and the majority of children in the Memphis Shelby County School system, these products of chaos are present weekly or even daily.

We cannot solve these issues on a city-wide or even neighborhood-wide basis. We can do our part. We can pray for peace, order, and safety for the children and families whose lives are devoid of these assets. With your continued support, we can provide a few seats at a time for Orange Mound women to experience it in their daily lives.

In Orange Mound, this query is never tabled because family is always one’s responsibility.   Suddenly, everyone is family when a desperate emergency presses in.  To suggest there are professionals who can help alleviate or even navigate through a portion of the storm often goes unacknowledged.  The universal reaction is shock, and the look of disdain and unbelief is searing. “Family comes first and my foremost focus” is said by each but more simply and forcefully.

 Monthly, I interview the ladies to check into the pulse and flow of their personal space.  As we rocked on the front porch on a cool morning in June, I tossed in a bright, lilting question: “What’s on your bucket list?”   I gave an example, confiding my own, and defined what a bucket list might include.  With each, a slow smile gradually formed, eyes closed, and a request to pause was required to reflect.  One said she had never considered such a dream. One said she would like to see a beach and walk in the sand.  “See a mountain range” was first on Deborah’s list. “Ride a train to New Orleans,” considered another, who is expecting her first baby without the support of the baby’s father.”  Fatigue is a fact of life here.  Relentless exhaustion drains dreams and shrinks their spirits. None chose a luxury cruise or skydiving.

My July interviews were impossible to schedule due to so many absences and late call-ins. July is a slower month in sales, and fortunately, business was not crimped, allowing Debbie and the managers to keep the flow. All orders were punctually filled. The House felt achingly empty and strangely cheerless, though.

Last week, I was brought into the circle of trust. I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and there is more as the facts of the dilemmas are still developing.

One of the ladies is homeless after a court order overruled her possession of the family home, giving the deed to her brother, and all the contents of her home were scattered on the curb. One was bitten by her brother’s pit bull and had a massive infection.

           The Shelby County General Sessions Court imposed sanctions for garnishment of another’s wages for a $15,000 debt from 2022. She is expecting a baby soon and has felony charges, which preempt full-time employment job opportunities beyond My Cup of Tea. Another has been parenting her adult twins, each of whom has morally rebelled. One twin has required hospitalization, and the other more punitive disciplines.

            Another has had to commit her mother to a special care facility and is unable to learn her diagnosis and prognosis. Another has had to commit a loved one to an out-of-town long-term facility for rehabilitation. One has the permanent but unofficial care of her deceased daughter’s five children. There are more, including one who has unofficial stewardship and total care of a brother who has special needs, and she has no assistance from other siblings.     There are others.

Each is her brother’s keeper, and a bucket list is an absurd thought unless it provides an escape from the harsh reality of the present. I have erased the elusive lists slipped into buckets and replaced them with lists for rest and quiet from the rough currents in their lives. Perhaps mini-breaks are best when one is sharing and caring for her many brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts, including absent fathers and neighbors who keep knocking on the double-bolted storm door.

Better are suggestions for a cup, not a bucket, which might include:

·         Space and time to sit alone on a park bench with a book that brings laughter.

·         A day without decision-making.

·         A meal at a restaurant with a linen tablecloth and a waiter.

·         Pretty shoes that fit and don’t rub my blisters.

·         A hand massage.

·         A conversation with someone who listens.

·         A comfort dog for a day.

·         A car that requires no maintenance for a month.

·         A night in a hotel away from the family.

·         A scented candle, popcorn, and a happy-ending movie on the TV.

·         A single comfortable outfit that flatters.

·         Sixty minutes on a church pew where I feel seen.

These precious women are the keepers of many and the emancipators of few. The tyranny of the urgent needs around them exhausts peace, time, and energy.  As soon as possible, they return to us. All have embraced the kind fellowship within our walls at 3028 Carnes and the prayer and support we offer at My Cup of Tea. The combination anchors the ladies in the firm foundation of faith and hope. Abundantly, it is available to keep them grounded through the storms all encounter quite regularly. 

Daily, all look to the clouds and await the return of our Savior, who will heal every disease and dry every tear.

Someday, skydiving shall seem simple, smooth, and supremely silly, no stress, no sweat, and there will be buckets filled with dreams come true.

Over the weekend, multiple fights in downtown Memphis were documented by amateur videographers with mobile phones, who then posted their recordings to social media. While videos like these rarely tell the entire story, they provide varying angles and perspectives that allow law enforcement and us to piece together the events.

These altercations precipitated foot chases by police and members of the National Guard, who have been essentially camped out in downtown Memphis since October of last year as a part of the Memphis Safe Task Force. In one tragic incident on Sunday morning, a 20-year-old man allegedly pointed a weapon at pursuing guardsmen, who then opened fire and killed the suspect. The shooting is being investigated by the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation at the request of District Attorney General Steve Mulroy, which is protocol in an officer-involved shooting.

While crime in Memphis is down over 40% compared to the same point last year, volatile and violent events are still commonplace. This latest incident compelled a teacher on Facebook to conclude, after watching numerous videos of the fights, that these occurrences are rooted in trauma. After fifteen years of serving women in Orange Mound, our experience leads us to believe this teacher may be correct.

We have talked about the trauma virtually every woman we have served has experienced in her life. The traumas are not all the same types of incidents, and not everyone responds to traumas in the same. However, anger and violence, like we regularly see in Memphis, are not uncommon responses for people impacted by traumatic events. It is essential to say that trauma is not an excuse, but it is a reason.

Studies show that Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is more common among residents of high-crime neighborhoods than among veterans of the twenty-year Afghanistan War. While most crime victims do not become perpetrators themselves, most perpetrators have been victims of crime.

What is also true is that, according to The University of Memphis, “Memphis Poverty Fact Sheet,” the percentage of children under the age of 18 living in poverty is 32.7%. The Annie E. Casey Foundation’s Kids Count Data Center shows that there is a high concentration of children living in poverty who are also living in high-crime neighborhoods.

Science tells us that 90-95 percent of a child’s brain development happens between the ages of birth and 5 years old. A study conducted in Shelby County more than a decade ago through phone interviews with adults from all walks of life concluded that more than half had experienced an Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE) as defined by the Centers for Disease Control. More than 1 out of every 5 had experienced 3 or more.

In short, generation after generation of Memphians is growing up impacted by severe trauma and lacking the resources to cope and heal.

Scripture and prayer are keys to helping the ladies at My Cup of Tea heal from their traumas, but so are counseling and exercises like the Kintsugi activity about which we have posted and written. Equally important, we’ve learned, are grace, patience, and time.

Trauma can happen in an instant with a single event or be compounded by exposure after exposure, but healing is never quick, no matter how sudden the trauma may have been. Many of the foundations and organizations from which we seek financial support ask for a timeline for the completion of our “project” and for measurable outcomes. Most require reports or updates of some kind at six-month or one-year intervals. Accountability is important, especially when these organizations are striving to be good stewards of the funds allocated for charitable work, but healing cannot be rushed and is often built on second and third chances, exasperation, and despair.

Addressing individual trauma in either a direct or ancillary manner was never on our “Bingo card” when we began this work in Orange Mound. We wanted to provide a job, a steady income, and an opportunity to build cross-cultural relationships. Perhaps we were naïve to think that wading into another’s “muck” would not be a part of this ministry. Wading into the “muck” is critical because it affects a person’s ability to care for themselves and others, hold on to a job, and aspire to something better than what she has always known.

Honestly, not one of us is “muck-less,” and yet Scripture tells us God is gracious (Romans 3: 23-24), merciful (Lamentations 3:22), and patient (2 Peter 3:9). So, as God provides, and through your support, we will continue to do our small part to heal our community’s trauma.

On the calendar, we are sandwiched between Father’s Day and the 250th anniversary of the founding of our nation. We recently celebrated the men who assumed the roles of family leaders, protectors, providers, and caretakers, whether they are related by biology. Soon, we will further laud the men who shouldered those responsibilities for our nation – our Founding Fathers.

The term “Founding Fathers” was coined by Warren G. Harding in a speech to the Republican National Convention in 1916. Harding later used the term in a speech in 1921 and became the first President to refer to the men who led the establishment of America as “Founding Fathers.” Since then, the title has become an indelible part of the nation’s vocabulary.

There is much debate among historians and scholars about which men of the era qualify as Founding Fathers, not to mention the omission of women who were instrumental in forming the republic. One name that earns universal agreement of inclusion in that austere list is George Washington – General of the Continental Army, presiding officer of the Second Continental Congress, and the first President of the United States.

Washington is the GOAT (Greatest Of All Time, to quote the kids) of the Founding Fathers. Yet, ironically, Washington had no biological children of his own.

When Washington met and married Martha Dandridge Custis, the eventual First Lady, she was a widow with two children. Martha had been married to Daniel Parke Custis, a wealthy and politically connected Virginia plantation owner. Daniel Parke Custis was 37 years old when he met 16-year-old Martha Dandridge. They married when Martha was 18 and had four children; two died very young.

The law of the day required Washington to become the legal guardian of Martha’s minor children John “Jacky” Custis and Martha “Patsy” Custis. The law, however, did not, nor could it, dictate the kind of stepfather Washington should be.

Historians agree that Washington doted on his stepdaughter Patsy, who began showing signs of epilepsy at age 6. He personally sought out remedies and medical care for Patsy and attended to all her needs until she died at age 17.

His relationship with Jacky was more strained. Jacky has been described as lazy, lacking in a desire to learn, and indulged by his mother. Washington sent him to boarding school and later arranged for him to attend King's College, now Columbia University. Jacky eventually dropped out of college and married. He died in his twenties, leaving a widow and 4 children. George and Martha informally adopted Jacky’s two youngest children and raised them as their own.

According to writer and historian Ron Chernow, in his biography, Washington: A Life, Jacky acknowledged Washington’s love for him in a letter prior to his passing. He wrote,

“It pleased the Almighty to deprive me at a very early period of life of my father, but I cannot sufficiently adore His goodness in sending me so good a guardian as you, Sir. Few have experienced such care and attention from real parents as I have done. He best deserves the name of father who acts the part of one.” [Emphasis added]

It is difficult not to be struck by the parallel of Washington’s assumption of the role of stepfather and his ascension to his roles in the founding of America.

Washington was nominated to serve as General and Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army by John Adams. He wrote to Martha,

“…I assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the Family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my Capacity…”

Just as becoming the stepfather of Jacky and Patsy was a necessary part of marrying Martha, becoming General of the Continental Army was essential to secure liberty and independence. The same was true of Washington becoming the first President. Washington wrote to Henry Knox,

"My movements to the chair of Government will be accompanied by feelings not unlike those of a culprit who is going to the place of his execution."

Of course, we know that Washington accepted the position of President and served two terms before stepping down.

What Washington taught us as a stepfather, general, and President is that reluctance, anxiety, lack of self-confidence, or fear of failure are not excuses for avoiding one’s duty. That is true in families, communities, and nations. It is true in Orange Mound, too.

The founding mothers and fathers of Orange Mound have long since passed from this life. Many of the generations who came after them left the neighborhood. Those still here, like the My Cup of Tea ladies, are in a fight for economic liberty, freedom from violence, and the pursuit of happiness.

They need our help.

Buying a box of our limited-edition Libertea; making a one-time or monthly donation; hosting a tea party; volunteering to bring lunch; or hiring a My Cup of Tea lady to work at your business are a few of the ways to revitalize Orange Mound and impact the lives of the My Cup of Tea ladies.

Stepfather (or mother) or general, pray about how you can stand in the gap for Orange Mound and the ladies of My Cup of Tea.

GenXers will remember the peak of John Mellencamp’s music career in the early 1980s. In 1983, Mellencamp wrote and released what has become a classic American anthem called “Pink Houses.” The song rose to number 8 on the Billboard Hot100 chart and became a beloved Heartland Rock song played at political rallies by both Democrats and Republicans.

The song was inspired by a trip on I-65 through Indianapolis. Mellencamp passed by a Black man sitting on the front porch of his pink house. He was holding a black cat and watching the traffic whiz by his front yard. The first verse recalls those brief seconds:

There’s a Black man with a black cat

Living in a Black neighborhood

He’s got an interstate running through his front yard

Ya, know he thinks he’s got it so good.

When the song reaches the chorus, Mellencamp belts out the peppy lines:

But ain’t that America for you and me

Ain’t that America

Something to see, baby

Ain’t that America

Home of the free

Little pink houses for you and me

Except, the words are sarcastic and cynical. Mellencamp is saying that the American Dream is inaccessible to the poor and the working man. We’re told that we all can obtain our metaphorical “pink house,” but so many fail to realize it.

Orange Mound was once an example of the American Dream, as we have told you in the past. It is the oldest community in the nation built by and for African Americans. The first landowners and homeowners in Orange Mound were only a generation or less removed from slavery. The community thrived despite Jim Crow and segregation. African Americans owned thriving businesses, and many achieved middle income.

One hundred thirty-six years later, Orange Mound is not the same. Few would describe it as their American Dream. The decline began in earnest in the 1980s and 1990s with drugs, gangs, and a loss of good-paying jobs – about the time Mellencamp released his classic. However, there were and are many communities in Memphis and around the country which have never achieved the success Orange Mound once did.

Is it possible for Orange Mound to be a beacon of the American Dream again?

We believe it is.

Whatever one believes about American Exceptionalism, a much-debated topic today, it is undeniable that our nation’s people across generations exude resilience. As a nation, we not only survived the darkest days in our history—the Civil War—we became better for it. We fought World War I, which was supposed to be the war to end all wars, and lost 116,000 soldiers. We survived the Great Depression and fought World War II, losing 419,000 Americans. Vietnam and the fight for civil rights deeply divided our country even beyond the profound polarization we see today. We overcame these challenges, and in many cases, thrived beyond them.

We have seen American resilience in the lives and actions of the My Cup of Tea ladies over the last decade and a half. We also see it in many of our neighbors who joined Neighborhood Watch, support the community’s anchor, Melrose High, maintain their properties, and demonstrate “staying power” when others tell them it is time to leave. We see resilience in our many community partners, some who have been in the community longer than us – partners like Neighborhood Christian Center, RedZone Ministries, Christ Community Health, JUICE Orange Mound, and more.

July 4^th this year is the semiquincentennial (250th anniversary) of the founding of America. Some of our fellow Americans are not in the mood to celebrate because for many times are hard right now. But we can all be grateful for one of the defining characteristics of Americans – resilience.

To mark the occasion, we issue a limited-edition tea that we call Libertea. On the front of the box, we feature six very different, consequential women of the American Revolution whose resilience is on full display in their stories. Martha Washington spent time in the camps of the soldiers, treating their wounds. Abigail Adams was a fierce abolitionist and counseled her husband on matters of policy. Esther Reed wrote political essays at a time when women didn’t and urged citizens to sacrifice financially for the troops. Elizabeth “Mum Bett” Freeman took liberty seriously and was the first African American woman to successfully file a lawsuit for her freedom. Deborah Samson believed in the promise of our nation so much that she disguised herself as a man and fought in the Continental Army. Phyllis Wheatley published the first book of poems by an African American and rallied colonists with her themes of freedom for all.

Like the women featured on our commemorative box, some of the paths to our American Dream will be fraught with obstacles and disappointments. Getting there will be harder than it should be, but it’s not impossible; and the journey is worth the final destination.

At My Cup of Tea, we continue to pray that our gray house with the maroon shutters will be a portal for Orange Mound women to realize their “pink houses.”

A kind supporter and friend of our ministry asked me, as we enjoyed a light lunch just last week, if I had seen change for the better in Orange Mound over the past fifteen years.

 In reality, the change is slow, but the change in me has been absolutely for the better.

 Quite astonishing to most of our supporters and customers is  that there is a distinguishable gap between our collective vision for our beloved women in Orange Mound and their own readiness for change. I have often been in conversation with others in similar missions to the poor, who agree and recognize a similar weight in their lived experience. My hope, disappointment, faith, and the raw clarity of reality among the women we work with in Orange Mound daily occupy my prayers, time, and resources.  I am passionate, and I love this job.

The gap my peers and I share is not a failure of our love, efforts, or calling.  I frequently consider that  Jesus Himself faced the same in His three years of ministry in Galilee.  He walked among people who saw miracles, heard truth, and still chose their own way.  He did not stop loving them or walking with them. Nor do we.

Cheryl daily tells every new customer that “My Cup of Tea brings women out of poverty into a new posture of stability, strength, and hope”.

            Measuring that type of success has not been a priority for we are working among many layers of need with our friends here. Accruing stories of crossing women over into stability is qualitative, not quantitative. More importantly and of more consequence, we have been present in their instability. 

We have been a constant of encouragement, consistency, mercy, and Truth sharing.  Many negative voices repeatedly tell our ladies, “You can’t make it,” as well as “Just get by.”  We who are in their favor at My Cup of Tea, never weary of sowing seed of promise and hope, all the while knowing  we must continue in prayer to see them bear fruit. We are  in the cloud of witnesses with unwavering commitment. The volunteers we call Sisters are the cup holders, advocates, mothers,  teachers, friends, and fairy godmothers for all who  are willing to invite us in.

                Another missionary in Orange Mound, Linda Gilbert, often says, “Walking in each other’s shoes brings mercy and respect.” Walking in their shoes has given us a rare perspective. We are not looking at our ladies from a distance. We are walking in cadence side by side with all.  We celebrate their birthdays, we know their children’s names and grades; we know their debts, their bruises, their pregnancies, their firings, their aches, their medications, their unreliable cars, which we have named, and we know their fears. We have been to their houses, and we have advocated for change.  “Knowing” is the mission work.  There is no judging them; we are grieving with them.

                Occasionally, the only request of us is dollars to finish another day. We can easily slip into lament, for many of our deeper offerings are rejected.  I believe their financial hardships crack a vulnerable portal called ‘humility.’  She who asks for a loan is really saying, "I may not yet trust you with my soul, but I trust you with my embarrassment, and in truth, my survival."  We have walked through many harder doors with them, but debt is the most difficult because it signifies failure to them.

I’m often asked why I chose Orange Mound to begin our ministry for women.  Succinctly, I chose to follow Jesus, and He led me to the corner of  Carnes and Semmes, where He was already living.  He has not paved the street or smoothed the paths, but He has walked every step on the broken sidewalks with us, His kind voice:” Walk this way”, keeps us alert and refreshed, and  silences the request for a finish line.   That voice is the motivation, not the outcomes of our efforts.

The hardest part of the mission, especially in sharing the Gospel, is helping our ladies move from blaming circumstances or others for the mess they are in. Their part in their disquieting circumstances most often is the result of an immoral choice.  We have created a space where confession is safe and not shamed.  Jesus did.  He did not force repentance but was a safe place where it could and still can be encouragingly received.

 I spoke recently to a small group and used the word ‘renaissance ‘in view of Orange Mound.  It sounded inspiring, but has resounded in my ear as misinformed ever since. Without homeowners, there is no dedication to repair the brokenness that is still in view on every block.  We are committed to assisting in the courageous leap over the gap  to own a first home.

The renaissance is slowly happening quietly in the relationships between our disparate cultures.  Two of our abused women, victims of domestic violence,   came to work bearing their broken hearts and bruises last week, trusting us to pray for them and provide support.  Two of our ladies are faithfully paying back loans with each paycheck, in cash. 

Another renaissance is  evident in the hearts of our volunteers who have stayed when there has been no applause.  They  have learned the cost of following Jesus includes going into the dark alleys and hard places.  They have shown up and they have stayed.

 He who summoned us all with “Follow Me" is walking with us. His metrics are not in miles walked; His measurements are not in lives changed, but His recompense is crowns for those who have faithfully kept the pace.

We often have stimulating guests for lunch, but last week, a friend of mine brought warm insights instead of advice and ideas for change and motivation. 

Aaron Lewis--tall, dark, and handsome--drew immediate attention among our ladies when he entered our hallway.  He was dazzled, as most are, by the elegant décor and the warm friendliness that surpassed his expectations. Supper in the oven and the aroma of chicken and dumplings tempted his appetite and officially erased his next appointment for a business lunch. He complimented the cook for the day, was open for a tour of the House, purchased tea for his mom, and rejoined the women more eager than usual to lengthen the lunch hour.

Lewis, with his father and uncle, has weekly mentored a misunderstood slice of society, who are incarcerated, with few visitors and fewer plans for redemption. The Lewis men have entered the “Inside Circle” and for three years they have been approved for ministry in weekly sessions among willing inmates at  201 Poplar.  After perfunctory scanning, frisking, and pictures, they proceed to the part of the jail where the public is barred and the conditions are brutal. They sit in a large room with armed guards in an open forum among men awaiting trial and open to a respite from their cells. 

The Lewis men, model the male leadership, kindness, and mercy that have been missing in our community and many others over the last several generations.  Roughly 70-80% of incarcerated men, according to the Prison Policy Initiative, have been fatherless children.

                Incarceration, unfortunately, is not an uncommon experience for our crew of ladies at The House.  Many of them have served time, visited family in prison, or both. Therefore, familiar, far more than I, the ladies asked good questions, which he welcomed. They wanted more information as to success, recidivism, and dangers. He shared the statistics and held them spellbound, believing and admiring. Then he winsomely requested to ask a question.

                  His query, “Would you tell me something that makes you happy,” landed on the heart of each lady.  There was none unwilling to speak, and some often noted for little to say, gave us much.  We were past the time for quitting, but all remained at the table to speak her turn.

Summarily, though expressed with many colorful examples and reasons, the response was “My family makes me happy.”

That surprised me and was not my personal response to his question when my turn at the table arrived.

Though ‘family ‘is core and constant across every generation and location since the dawn of time, the ways my family is shaped by inherited dependence and identity don’t align with the pattern shared among our ladies at My Cup of Tea.

I watch it here with respect and am reminded of the stories of my grandmothers who were widows after WW II and tended to and were assisted by my parents who lived nearby them and helped with the family work.  Time marked in decades has redefined the role of family in my own experience as well as among my peers.

Within Orange Mound and other demographically similar communities, ‘Family’ is kinship-based, and though defined loosely, the primary pillar of security.  It is fluid, resilient, and elastic in the network.  It includes blood relatives, half-siblings, “play-cousins”, neighbors, baby mommas, baby daddies, their children from other relationships, and many aunties. There is a loyalty to all, a turn of the cheek, and forgiveness for almost anything in time.

  Many referred to as “Cuz” are expected to provide, when asked,  a safety net for survival through the ubiquitous dips in life including: bail money, childcare, emotional support, money for funerals and burials, a safe home away from home, though the porch light is broken, free car mechanics and transportation, and bed side support in the hospital. However, most valued and expected is a code of silence, especially including no cooperation with law enforcements.

Except for the latter just mentioned, many churches in our city accept this responsibility and welcome all of us in need to join their fellowships, become members, and bring their needs into the community of Christ followers.  Debbie and I point to the opportunities around the corner of 3028 Carnes.  I’m told the minimum number of churches within reach are 50, but I haven’t done a manual count. Some have said as many as 150.

With introspection, assurance, and gratitude, I claim my church and fellow believers across the world as my family, my safe house, and my safety net. It is a hospital for the needy.  My sisters and brothers there, though not blood, share God as our Father and our future home.

I am determined to lead others, through God’s irresistible love, to recognize Him as The One Eternal Father, Creator, and Sustainer.  I pray daily that my friends will commit to a church.  There, they will discover a family that does what some blood relatives cannot or fail to do: carry their troubles, share their wisdom, and love them unconditionally as sisters with the one true Father.

The Father never slumbers, never abandons, never rushes, never ignores, while owning and ruling over everything we know or can imagine, He graciously welcomes her in, knows her name, and has a plan and a purpose for her best life imaginable.