Where My Passion for Child Advocacy Stems From

The greatest grandfather ever...Henry Hudson Barbarick

I am often asked where my passion for child advocacy stems.  I am always quick to answer that question because I know exactly where it stems from...my grandfather, Henry.  My grandfather was the reason I was given a heart for children and for those in need.  Growing up I witnessed my grandparents give abundantly to those in need.  When I say they gave abundantly, I mean abundantly and the most amazing thing about them was they lived a very humble life.  My grandfather worked at the Union Pacific Railroad until his retirement and my grandmother stayed home and took care of the family.  So, they didn’t have a lot to give, but they gave as though they had so much.

My grandparents had a large room in their basement that we referred to as the pantry.  It was the size of a bedroom and it was lined with shelves that were filled with food and they did this for one reason…so that when someone would come knocking on their door looking for help, they had plenty of food to give.  My grandparents often paid utility bills for families whose electricity was days away from being shut off.  People in our community often came knocking on my grandparent’s door, because they were known throughout town to be a very giving and generous couple.

When I spent the night with them, I would wake to the sound of my grandmother stirring her coffee with her spoon while my grandfather prayed fervently for families in our community who were in need.  He was always asking God to use them to bless others.  A morning never passed without this morning ritual of theirs.  It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about how compassionate and generous my grandparents were.

But there was one moment that changed my life forever.  The moment that ignited in me a deep passion for helping others.  I was seven-years-old, and my grandfather asked me to accompany him to deliver some groceries to a family in need.  We loaded up his van with sacks full of groceries.  After a short five-minute drive, my grandfather stopped in front of the smallest house I had ever seen.  As we made our way up to the house, I heard crying.  As my grandfather knocked, I stood frozen.  I couldn’t imagine being the family on the other side of the door.  A small girl opened the door.  She couldn’t have been more than three-years-old, and when she saw our arms filled with sacks of groceries, she stopped crying, wiped her eyes and said quietly, “we can finally eat.”  As we entered the home, we were met by four children and no parents.  The oldest girl was about nine-years-old and they all broke out in tears of joy because they finally had food.  I had never witnessed hunger or poverty like I did in that moment.  It changed me forever.

On our way home, my grandfather told me his story.  His story about why he was so passionate about feeding people who were hungry.

He proceeded to tell me that he couldn't bear the thought of people being hungry.  He experienced great hunger as a child during the Great Depression.  He told me about how his father left him, his siblings and his mother with nothing; even taking the only milk cow they had.   

Over the course of several years, my grandfather experienced a hunger so deep that when he spoke of it, his eyes would well up with tears.  As a child, he would dig through trash bins searching for food.  The only food they would seldom get was bread and milk.  Up until my grandfather’s death he would eat a bowl of broken up bread with milk poured over it, just before bedtime.  I believe he did this as a reminder of the hunger he experienced and to be reminded daily of those who still go hungry. 

As a result of the lack of money and food his family had, my grandfather left school in the fourth grade to help bring in money for his family.  Despite the fact my grandfather only finished the fourth grade, he was a very educated and literate man.  But beyond that, he was the wisest and most loving man I have ever met.  My grandfather’s experience with hunger not only impacted him in a huge way, it also impacted me; because my grandfather taught me to always count my blessings and to give abundantly to those less fortunate.