You are probably reading this because you’ve seen the facebook or twitter posts from people talking about gathering new pajamas for distribution to kids at The Dayton Gospel Mission. You might wonder to yourself, “Why pajamas…why not scarves, hats, coats, toys?”
I don’t know why I am struggling so hard to write this post. I’ve written and re-written it in my head a dozen times. Being “transparent” and “authentic” isn’t always the easiest thing to stomach. Sometimes it is painful and you want to do everything you can to avoid it, medicate it, or pretend it isn’t there. I want to explain the story behind the “Pajama Drama” project. It’s messy, not pretty and goes against my ongoing choice to focus on the positive as much as possible.
The story I’m about to share with you isn’t my own personal story. It is the story of my husband, Darryl.
He was 5 or 6 years old, living in a foster home, in a basement. I’m sure many children lived in foster homes where they were cared for, loved, and treated well. But that was not the case for Darryl. I won’t go into a lot of detail, but I will tell you that he was beaten by his foster “family” and often went to bed hungry. He and his brother would eat raw oats that were for the family’s pet rabbit. When the social services representative would visit, the family would act kind towards him and then return to their cruelty as soon as he/she left.
One Christmas, Darryl’s biological father came to visit him with a wrapped gift. Inside was a pair of pajamas. He was thrilled to have a pair of pajamas. Clothing was scarce and he rarely had clothing that fit and went to school with no socks. Kids made fun of him and it hurt. The pajamas represented comfort, warmth, security at bedtime. It probably made him feel like a “normal” kid to have pajamas. Sadly, as soon as his father left, the foster “mother” took the new pajamas from him to give to her own child.
Darryl tells me this story almost every Christmas. Although he is an adult, this story, this pain still haunts him. And every time I hear the story I am shocked. To say I’m deeply saddened is not words enough. It’s rage that some treated MY HUSBAND like that when he was a child. And, even in the darkness of living in that basement where he was hungry and beaten, he tells me that he and his brother, Bobby, always kneeled by their bed and prayed at night. I don’t know how they knew to do that or who taught them that there was a Heavenly Father looking out for them in the midst of that darkness.
I know that there are children right here in the Dayton area that need pajamas. There are single Moms and single Dads who would love to provide them but are having a rough year. If everyone in Dayton who is employed can buy just one pair of p.j.’s I think it would make a huge difference in our community.
And that is all I know. Pain and suffering in someone’s past cannot be removed but we can ease the pain and give comfort to someone in the present.
Click here to find out more ways you can help out families in our community that are in need.
God bless you…and thank you for reading this.
P.S. Darryl has plenty of pajamas, a warm bathrobe, and house slippers now!
