Supporting Equal Job Opportunities 

Someday, I want to plan a road trip around the nation and up into Canada, where the focus is stopping at businesses that were specifically created to give those with disabilities equal opportunities for work. 

I’ve been collecting names of these places as they come to my attention. Some are businesses created by parents wanting to make sure their growing child had a job opportunity. Others are places that are specifically made to encourage young people with disabilities to become independent hard workers. 

I’ve been looking online to see if someone else had a database list of these amazing restaurants, bakeries, coffee shops, as well as gift shops and other businesses. As of yet, it doesn’t seem like anyone else has made a list, so I thought I’d share what I’ve gathered so far.

 Perhaps you might want to grab a cookie and a cup of coffee to support these hard working adults?

Or, perhaps, you know of another buisness I should add to my list?

Bitty & Beau Coffee Shop –Wilmington, North Carolina
 www.bittyandbeauscoffee.com

Blake’s Snowshack–Denton, Texas
 http://www.blakessnowshack.com

Firefly Café & Bakery–Winchester, Virginia
 http://www.fireflycafebakery.com

Puzzles Bakery & Café –Schenectady, New York
 http://www.puzzlesbakerycafe.com

Sunflower Bakery–Gaithersburg, Maryland
 http://www.sunflowerbakery.org

Sugar Plum–Virginia Beach, Virginia
 http://www.sugarplumbakery.org

Special Kneads & Treats– Lawrenceville, Georgia
 http://specialkneadsandtreats.com

Greenhouse Inn Restaurant
Hearts & Flour Bakery
Heartstrings Gift Shop
Twice Blest Thrift Shop  –Chicago, Illinois
 http://www.misericordia.com/shops/default.aspx

Steamers Coffeeshop/Jack’s Bar & Grill — Denver, Colorado (A combined shop)
 http://steamerscoffeeshop.com

Cause Café — Fort Salonga, New York
 http://www.causecafe.net

Samples World Bistro– Long Mont, Colorado
 http://www.samplesworldbistro.com

Harvest Café — Staten Island, New York
 http://www.harvestcafe-si.org

Hugs Café — Mckinney, Texas
 http://www.hugscafe.org

Mozzeria– San Francisco, California
 http://www.mozzeria.com

Collette’s Cookies — Boston, Massachusetts
 http://www.colletteys.com

Rising Tides Car Wash– Parkland, Florida
 http://risingtidecarwash.com

International 

Bread of Life Bakery– Beijing 

Christina’s Tortinia Shop– Brampton, Ontario, Canada
 http://www.cristinastortinashop.com

Signs Restaurant — Toronto, Canada
 signsrestaurant.ca

Failure is ALWAYS an option

I hate failure. With great passion. Admittedly, I hate it so much I fear to start something just because I could fail. Looking back over the years, I know I have missed some amazing opportunities because I fear to fail.

The world has made me fear. It’s definitely not God’s doing. God wants to push me over the edge because he knows my wings will make me fly. Fear does not have God’s flavor on my tongue at all, it’s acidic and has a nasty back-taste. Where God and his promises are full bodied and effervescent.

I have been contemplating failure a lot lately. Part of the reason is that I am nowhere near where I would have thought I’d be by now. I had this amazing life planned, working in a hospital and volunteering with retirement centers around my community as a chaplain. Perhaps finally doing a little bit of traveling. I never thought that life would be taking the look of what it is right now. I never thought God would place me where he did when he seemed to fill my mind with such dreams.

My life is not bad. I am very blessed to have the job I do, taking care of a lady who is just a few short months away from turning 100. I’ve learned a lot taking care of her. I am an active member in my church as a Sunday School Superintendent and teacher, which still surprises me since I grew up in that church. To think that these people are trusting me to teach them God’s word is daunting and occasionally nerve-wracking. The responsibility is big and I am still learning. Just because I have a piece of paper that says I satisfactorily completed Bible studies in a graduate level school, doesn’t mean that I still don’t have a lot learn.

Sometimes, I desperately miss school. I miss the constructed learning environment where I could fail and learn without it it necessarily making a huge impact on my life. I miss the drive that I had to succeed– not that I don’t still have it, but it seems to be missing a focus on a set goal. Now my drive to succeed sometimes just feels like getting to the next paycheck. Not that inspiring.

Life is about failure. It’s about coming at a situation and finding a way through it. Most time, if we are honest with ourselves, it rarely takes one time through a situation. We usually have to stop and reevaluate our tools and knowledge before attacking it again, perhaps at a different angle.

God gave me dreams for a reason. I think he has given me the ways to put them into action. I just need to learn how to trust him more than worrying about my bank account.

Failure in the science world is seen as a success in many ways. Albert Einstein famously said, “I have tried 99 times and have failed, but on the 100th time came success.” Scientists don’t give up when they meet with resistance. They take notes and then tweak a variable before attempting it again. Their brains- their hypothesis–says that it should be possible, they just need to find a way to make it work in real life.

To live life as if it was a hypothesis. A possibility that could be made reality. To know that dead ends and sudden twists are great adventures that mean it could still be an amazing discovery. To know with certainty that what you know to be true still has the ability to amaze you when you discover that there is more than that certainty.

It’s interesting. I view my theological inquires- my study of the nature of God and my religious beliefs– as a human hypothesis of God. I have long believed that if I held my beliefs as such, I would be able to be willing to let God show me his true self. My feeble human words can never accurately and completely describe the Divine. The Divine cannot be contained in the failing words that I use. To believe they can, is to shove God into a box, and he cannot be contained. I read all theologians’ writings with this thought, it is their very human attempt to explain an aspect of God that they see. They are bound to make mistakes just like I am. If I have a prayerful heart and ask God to continually show me who he really is, I am less likely to be led astray by theologians whose own prejudices influence their definition of God and salvation.

Perhaps this seems to be very childish view at God from someone who has a Masters Degree in the Bible. But, then again, Christ exhorted the disciples to come like children to him, which is to say, humbly and without artifice. When those who call themselves theologians and have the degrees to back them talk of God, do they do it humbly? Or is it with a certain arrogance that says they know it all? Listen and learn from them, but make sure you always have a faith that is open to God’s guidance. When you speak to others about the God you follow, be honest, say you don’t know everything but what you do know has changed your life.

I have been blessed mightily by the theologians that God has placed in my educational/spiritual life. But, I know that they don’t know it all.

I will always need to learn more about God. And I will never know everything about my faith and salvation until he calls me to his side and explains what it really is. My human hypothesis will then be put to the test, and I much rather hear him say, “Close, but let me show you what you didn’t understand.” Rather than, “Wrong! That is not what I was doing!”

I am attempting to live life as a hypothesis. There is nothing stopping me from trying again, but myself. It’s hard to put into practice though. Human constraints whether real or imagine seem to wrap themselves around me and I hesitate. Why am I willing to do it with the most important aspect of my existence- my faith- but I’m not willing to do it with this very human existence? Failure seems to be knocking whenever I think of going off script.

Makes me want to pull a Mythbusters and blow something up before trying again.

Here’s to living life without fear! May I seek it with a full heart, because God gave me wings and is encouraging me on.

failure-option (1)

 

My shoulders are tired

Last night, I watched “Moms’ Night Out,” and I highly recommend it. I understand this woman! I won’t give it away, because you HAVE to watch it. Suffice to say though is that there are three women who are beyond stressed out with their families. One in particular just can’t get a hold of life anymore and either needs to take a night off or is going to mentally break. Fun and hilarity ensue.

Now, while I am not a mother obviously, I am on that stress precipice where I will either explode leaving emotional debris everywhere or where I will cause equal damage by throwing up my hands and literally walking away.

But, right now, I am stress paralyzed. I totally concur with the movie–it’s a real thing.

I’m not getting respite on any of my three fronts. I can’t run to church to escape the tensions at home and work. I can’t hide at home on my days off to recover from work and gear up for church. And work is no longer a happy experience where I can focus on something to take my mind off of church and home.

And before you give me the supposedly sage advice of finding a new church or job– that is not going to fix anything. The idea of running away from the blessings God has given me, is not hardwired into my DNA. The opposite is. I care too much for the people involved to just leave when things get rough.

Running away– while a nice thought when your jaw aches from biting down on the harsh words that want to spill forth–never solves anything.

I think there is enough broken relationships in this world to prove that.

I am a fixer. I am a counselor. I am a listener. I am a caregiver. These are aspects of my core personality. I can’t change who I am. It is not in me to say, “I can’t handle any more, so don’t tell me anything else!”

I have been so consumed by the stress, that I, who process things by writing, haven’t written anything in many weeks. Which, let me tell you, adds more stress because what in the world am I stressing about?! I don’t know, because I can’t write it out. Argh!!

I always like to say that I don’t worry. Worrying will not change the aspects of the future you are concerned about. Staying up late at night chewing on your fingernails won’t change how much that doctor’s bill will be. Nor will it affect the flight that a loved one will be on as if your worry will be the cushion that will keep that plane from crashing.

Nah, I don’t worry. I stress! Totally different in my book.

I don’t care if Webster’s Dictionary says worry is a synonym of stress. You can’t believe everything that is written okay?

Webster’s says that stress as a noun means: “a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting from adverse or very demanding circumstances.” While worry means “give way to anxiety or unease; allow one’s mind to dwell on difficulty or troubles.”

Sure, I dwell sometimes. But, everything that is concerning me, isn’t even about me! It’s about people I love and am worried concerned about. How can I be there in the moment for them? How can I encourage them? How can I represent God’s love in the tension? How is it going to affect the community, family, client?

I’m not trying to control the world. I’m not even trying to change my little sphere of influence.  I just want answers to be given so people aren’t waiting for the next shoe to drop. So I don’t feel as if I have the weight of these people’s fear crushing my back.

My shoulders are tired from the burden I carry.

The unknown is scary. We do not know how to ready ourselves for the hidden threat. We don’t know if we need the shield or the first aid kit, if we need knives or bullets. We don’t know how to protect each other from the masked intruder who is right outside our peripheral vision. That dark entity that could possibly be holding a sharp knife that is ready to rip our lives apart. We’re in a constant state of readiness, waiting for the attack. Sometimes it happens and we can expel the adrenaline. Other times, we are in the fight/flight response with nothing to do. But be ready. Be alert. Be exhausted…

Sometimes, I feel as if I gather other people’s worries, fear, concerns, hurt, anger, as an attempt to get them through the problem. As if I am trying to protect them from that sick twisted emotional bomb by holding it for them. As if I want to throw myself on that grenade in a brave Steve Rogers act, so others have a chance to live. As if sacrificing my peace of mind will keep someone else sane.

I must think highly of myself.

We, or maybe I should just say, I, get this convoluted idea that if I work my butt off, I can protect people from…well, from life. I can keep my friends from finding out that their beloved parent has cancer. I can keep my parents from worrying about their financial existence. I can keep my grandparents healthy. I can keep my brother and his wife safe in Texas from the floods. I can keep gossipers from harming my church family with their vicious vitriol. I can keep my client safe from her anxiety. I can keep my community working together for the betterment.

(Humm, psst! Ranelle, you know, that sounds a lot like worry.
Nah…it’s stress, you don’t know what you are talking about. Shhh!)

I don’t have a messiah complex. I don’t have a hero complex. I don’t have a martyr complex. Believe me, I don’t aspire to be Captain Steven Hiller who takes on the alien ship with a nuke strapped to my ship.

I KNOW that the weight of the world is NOT on my shoulders. That the happiness of those around me is not my job. I KNOW this. But, still. I have a desire to make sure that if I can, I can keep them from shedding tears. I can keep the anger at bay.

I need to live in the Swedish Proverb, “Not my monkey, not my circus.” Or in BBC’s Sherlock’s Detective Inspector Lestrade’s motto: “Not my division!”

Don’t borrow trouble. You can be concerned, but ultimately, it’s not your job to shoulder the responsibility of caring for the world. God gave me the heart to love people, but he has also told me that I have a limit on how much I can take on. It is all in God’s hands. I need to stop taking my loved ones out of his hands, thinking I can do a better job at caring for them. Because, obviously I can’t.

Where I grow weary and exhausted with the strain, God never does. Where I get exasperated and frustrated by their actions that just cause more pain, God just continues to love. When I don’t know the whole story, God does and still loves. Where I make mistakes in the course of helping, God never does. God is the only perfect caregiver there is. I am a pale broken imitation. But, still God uses me.

So, today is a day of self-health. I am dating myself. I am finally writing, here in the park on a pretty day. I am taking a breath. I had my comfort food, aka Tacos. (Yumm) And I will go watch a movie. I will go home to play with my dogs and be snubbed by my cats. I will simply be. Try to keep from mind the problems that Sunday will bring, that Tuesday will hold. I will unclench my jaw and rotate my neck. I will shed this weight and put it where it belongs, in God’s hands.

When I start to take it back, I will say a prayer instead.

I will learn how not to worry the problem like a nasty mosquito bite. Checking in on it every few minutes to see if it still itches. I will pay attention to God’s police line, where it says “DO NOT ENTER” and in smaller words “IT’S NOT FOR YOU TO WORRY” (I mean…stress.) I won’t sneak under the tape and rob my loved ones back into my hands.

If you pray for me…I would be eternally grateful.

“No one can pray and worry at the same time.”– Max Lucado

Matthew 11:28-30– “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden light.”

Luke 12:25- “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

Dear Mike Rowe

If I wrote a letter to Mike Rowe, host of the former Dirty Jobs show on the Discovery Channel, in regards to a dirty job I know of, this is what I would say. (And there is a good chance that this might have ended up sounding more like a rant. Which I might or might not apologize for, let’s just be honest.) 

Dear Mr. Rowe,

I always enjoyed watching you shine the spotlight on the unsung heroes of the work force. As a daughter of a dump truck driver and a para-educator, I understand hard work and determination. Since I was 14, I have worked hard and continually, helping put myself through college to graduate with a Master’s degree in Pastoral studies. I never once shied away from the idea of hard work. Also just because I have now succeeded in getting that degree, that does not mean that I still won’t work hard with my hands at every opportunity.

I held down a full time janitorial job on campus during the school year and then worked as a full time caregiver during all school breaks. I was actually told by one classmate that he could never “clean up after the professors who teach me because I’m better than that.” I was completely baffled by that thought. Being a janitor is a good, solid, respectable job. I have always been proud of doing that job for my 7 years of undergrad and seminary, and even now continue to be a housekeeper, as the opportunity arises around my other full time job.

Since I was 14, I have worked as a caregiver. Mostly, I have cared for clients who have either Dementia or Alzheimer’s, both of which are terrible diseases that can drastically change the person you love into a stranger. You might have to watch your sweet grandma turn into an aggressive banshee, who chases you around the house, trying to hit you over something already forgotten. Or see as your loving father struggles with the fact that he knows he is forgetting something and becomes extremely agitated over that knowledge.

There are so many emotional ups and downs involved with being a caregiver. There is a balancing act that many people don’t see. I always get variations of two comments when someone realizes that I am a caregiver, “Wow, I could never do that job! Wiping people’s butts and stuff. Wow. I admire you.” or “That would be so awesome to have a job where you could sleep all day!”

They totally miss the purpose and the wonderful aspects of the job.

It is my job and my pleasure to attempt to be all things to one person.

My client is knocking on her 100th birthday in a sliver of years. She has lived through riding on a horse drawn wagon, to seeing a man walk on the moon, and now being ignored by her great grandchild in favor of watching a small handheld screen. The amount of unplumbed history just sitting there, watching the world spiral out of control on the news, is staggering.

Through this job, I wear many hats. Gardener, chef, housecleaner, counselor, chauffer, bookkeeper, dog walker, spider catcher, bird feeder, and whatever she might need at a moment’s notice. To say the least, I do not have time to ‘nap’ because my client, though nearly 100 does not nap.

Caregiving is not a easy white collar medical job. So many people think that it is an easy job because there is so much demand for care of the aging Baby Boomers that are filling the retirement centers.  Too many ill equipped care givers are now in the system. This is why I vote for finger printing and background checks of all people who are charged with the care of these precious clients. Too many abusers now have in their care, vulnerable adults. As like with most public care jobs, you hear too much about the bad ones that destroy the lives of those put into their keeping, rather than showing how someone who deeply cares for their charges, can go about making their last years comfortable.

Despite working in a private home or adult care facility, while the clients may change, my job stays the same. That job is to give my clients compassionate care that protects their dignity and gives them respect in all aspects of that care.

If I find myself scrubbing a bathroom into an inch of my life due to the ferocious cleansing agents of prune juice and promptly having to do it again within two hours, it is just par for the course. If it’s about driving one of my clients over a hundred miles just so they could get out of the house, I do so with a smile. It’s about biting my tongue to keep my opinions to myself, because my job is to listen rather than advise.

Caregiving is not about MY desires or wants. It’s about keeping them happy and healthy. It’s about cooking the same meal 20 times because you finally found something that they will eat and will hopefully gain a few pounds. It’s about being a pharmacist who has to beg her clients to take their pills. It’s about defending your client’s rights to live their lives as they see fit. It’s about speaking up for them when they are too scared to do so. It’s about neglecting your own sleep so that you can make sure that they are sleeping well. It is about treating them the way you will hope and pray you will be treated when it is your time to be in the care of someone else.

Caregiving, in my book at least, is a dirty job. I always wanted to write in and ask you to do something in regards to it, but with privacy laws,  you wouldn’t exactly be allowed to shadow someone on the job! I would just love to see a nod to those in this noble profession who, as you put it, make civilized life possible for the rest of us. It is one of those jobs that is over looked but is so diversified.

All said and done though, I am very proud of being a caregiver.

Thank you, Mr. Rowe, for doing all you do. I agree 100% that Americans don’t understand what hard work is anymore. Most of my generation has lost touch with work ethic and it is translating down into their young children. It is so sad to see that juxtaposition between the ‘Greatest Generation’ who were such hard workers and the stereotypical ‘Generation Me’ who is more focused on ‘what I can get for myself’ attitude.

I might be called old fashioned for some of my ideals and morals, but taking a look around me, I’m glad for that old-fashioned value set. It has held me in good stead my whole life, and I get to listen to all the untold stories that are just waiting to be let free from the minds of my quiet elders.

So, my hands might be gloved in vinyl blue, and while I might not be crawling under houses or putting my hands in some animal, I  think all dirty jobs are the jobs worth doing. Because at the end of the day you know you have accomplished something. And me? I am accomplished in my job when I see my client face another day, knowing I’m in her corner.

Keep dirty and work hard!

Ranelle Gildersleeve