An open letter...

It has not escaped my attention that many people have fiercely held negative opinions about welfare recipients. Perhaps that is why we waited through hard times of more than two years before we finally put our heads up and marched bravely down to the HHSC to apply. I am nearly ashamed to admit these views are certainly why I waited through four months to reapply after our benefits ran out in March, despite losing health insurance for our two kiddos for a time. We would submit to drug testing if we had to, and I would submit to tubal ligation if that was what I had to do to so that we would not have to worry as a family about where our next meal was coming from. I wonder though, what good it does our liberties as a nation, when we demand a few people give theirs up for the privilege of eating. Though we have probably paid for the help we are receiving now through the taxes we have paid in our combined 35 years of gainful employment, to all who are helping us to access medical care for our children and put food on our table each day, I am profoundly thankful. Thank you dearly, from the bottom of my heart.

My husband and I work 4 part-time jobs between us. We do other additional work when it’s available. We have two children (our son, who is 11, and our daughter, who has just celebrated her 6th birthday). We homeschool both because they deserve a better education than public school can offer. Last year, we made a combined income of $16,306. I am pleased to tell you that we do not qualify for TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families), because we earn too much money. We use our Lone Star Card ($120/week) to purchase a variety of fruits and vegetables, rice, beans, gluten free bread, tortilla chips, meat, eggs, milk, butter, coffee, and cream. We are blessed with a lot of help from our friends and family with utilities ($300/month), car insurance ($35/month), and mortgage (which we work for in barter). Since we keep ourselves and our kiddos healthy, we rarely have need of medical services. The children each visit the doctor perhaps once per year. My husband and I are uninsured and do not qualify for medicaid ourselves. For this I am also thankful. Medicaid only seems to serve adults who must make do with a much smaller income than we have, or have lots of medical problems.

I am not uneducated. I possess two degrees. I earned my B.A. in Psychology at the University of Texas at Austin. At our commencement exercises, we were privileged to hear a professional in the field cheerfully let us know that our degrees officially qualified us to say, “You want fries with that?” So, a few years later, I went to graduate school and earned my M.S. in Oriental Medicine. After graduation, I passed my national exams and applied for my acupuncture license from the Texas Board of Acupuncture Examiners.  I am now a licensed acupuncturist and have maintained that status since 2007. I own and operate my own acupuncture clinic. I have regular clients. I do not charge a set rate. I believe that people should value the services (even medical!) that they receive based on merit, not based on a cost arbitrarily set by the provider. Also, I believe that care should be accessible for all.

In 2006, we moved from Austin, Texas. My husband had and was preparing to leave his seven-year job as a programmer. He was ready to begin his new career as a farmer. I had just graduated from the three-year program from which I earned my masters degree. Prior to that, I held part-time (during school) and full-time jobs in everything from clerical work to office management. My husband and I have both been working since we were sixteen years old. We purchased land with two houses (one to live in and one to house my clinic) in Beeville, Texas. We were fortunate enough to be able to sell our house in Round Rock in 2007, even while the real estate market was getting kind of rough. We chose Beeville because of the legendarily high rates of cancer in South Texas (the treatment of which I hope to ease for many people with my work) and the band of sandy-loam soil stretching across the region, perfect for my husband’s olive trees.

We have dreams of a bountiful olive orchard. We’ve already planted 300 trees. Someday we will have more than 2400 trees. We will produce our own successful brand of olive oil. We will hire employees for the farm and the clinic at livable wages ($15/hour). It will be three years before our first 100 trees will bear fruit. For now we nurture and tend the trees. We raise and teach our own children. I nurture and tend the people who come to me for pain relief, health, and wellness at my little acupuncture clinic. I work for a business my father is partner in, serving as a liaison in communication, and filing necessary reports with our state regulatory agencies. We serve as extra hands one day a week at our friends’ farm. My husband repairs computers, and is working as full partner, helping to program a newly formed game I can’t say much about. He is also about to partner in an L.L.C., becoming manager on an existing olive farm with 1500 nearly-mature olive trees. We’re very busy!

In short, we anticipate that our latest reliance on welfare will be a short one. I have no reason to whine. I have no excuses. Though I am frustrated that our choices have not yet made us financially wealthy, I do not regret them. I hope no one reading this ever feels that they have to choose public assistance in order to access health care or eat. However, I hope with even more vigor, that if that time ever arises, that person will have this safety net available. Blessings to you all. And again, thank you.

Perhaps, the spirits of stones in their early days...

On our planet, 3.8 billion years ago, the rocks claimed their hardened forms from the fiery surface of the cooling lava and oceans rained down from the sky. There was much shifting from place to place, but relative quiet as the rocks made their home. The first tiny organisms formed of the protein and minerals in the seas. Their waters were rich with methane, sulfates, carbon dioxide, and nitrates. The tiny creatures grazed upon the rock on the ocean floor. The rock did not mind. The tiny creatures created tiny rocks that grew (if they were kept close enough together and the weather was just right) into new and pretty rocks. The rocks cultivated their little friends and grew beautiful rock gardens. They lived in peace together this way for nearly 500 million years. Then the first lifeforms that could generate energy by absorbing the light of the sun evolved among their anaerobic cousins. They did not need to munch on rock all day. And they did not create more tiny rocks. The new lifeforms created oxygen. In areas where too much oxygen accumulated, the rock gardens stopped growing, or even changed color. The oxygen killed the tiny creatures that lived upon the seawater and the rocks. The rocks were children of change and were not alarmed. They took up the oxygen, keeping the balance, harboring their tiny friends. This helped for quite some time. Very gradually, the iron in the rocks changed color and grew brittle. Soon the rocks at the surface of the sea floor grew softer and softer. The youngest volcanoes rumbled and pulled forth more iron-rich lava from the Earth up to the surface. The iron absorbed the oxygen. The volcanoes quieted. Satisfied that they had done all they could, they slept for 250 million years. Nothing could stop the sun-loving lifeforms. Over millions of years, they released so much oxygen that the rocks could not keep the balance anymore. They were full. The volcanoes were asleep. The oxygen began to congest the oceans and rise up into the sky. The tiny creatures who had pleased the rocks with their little rock gardens began to die until only those who had acclimated to the rising oxygen, or who had hidden deep in the Earth herself, survived. Between the silence of the volcanoes and the chemical mingling of the waste oxygen with the gasses high in the sky, a climate shift began.