Put your feet to work

Yesterday was the memorial fundraising walk for my dear friend Margo, who passed away back in August and whom I have mentioned in this blog many times. A retired teacher, an avid lover of learning, and a woman with a huge heart, she was an example of someone who put her feet to work. She also loved to walk miles upon miles upon miles, which I referenced in another post.

Yesterday, in her memory, many people gathered at a local park, one with a wide and nearly mile-long walking path. Donning athletic shoes and some dressed in winter gear because of the blustery wind, we (since I was there) walked laps around the pond, celebrating despite the sorrow at loosing such a friend. Money was raised with this walk, money that will help the English Language Learner’s scholarship fund. It was a cause that Margo was very passionate about and helped to start.

I’ve realized I have referenced the English Language Learners program in a few blog posts. I touched on the group when I wrote the blog post Small Rebellions, but haven’t given many details.

The English Language Learner’s group here in my swath of the Midwest meets several different days of the week in the tiny church I call my second home. It is run mainly by a volunteer group of women, some of whom have teaching backgrounds, who wanted to do something to counter the anti-immigrant sentiments in the community.

Those that come to learn come from a variety of backgrounds, but all of them want to learn about the country in which they now reside. Some are Somalian refugees. Some are Puerto Rican. Others are Mexican or from other Latin American countries. A number of them are women who are in the United States on their own, their husbands still dealing with legalities and red tape that keep them from coming to this country to be with their wives and children.

And even though they meet in the basement of a church, there are no requirements to attend the church and no proselytizing done at all. There is mutual respect of cultures and religions. There are friendships and rejoicings, particularly when some of the students now have gotten their United States citizenships, passed their driver’s license tests, finally had their spouses join them here in this country, or had children.

**Tangent here, but still on subject – a wonderful high school reporter by the name of Taylor Stanley wrote a piece that was featured in the local high school newspaper on the program which can be read by clicking HERE.**

Which brings me to the scholarship that we all put our feet to work for yesterday.

The scholarship was started just two years ago, during the height of the pandemic. There are currently four students that are being helped by the fund to help achieve their post-secondary dreams. All four have graduated from the local high school. All four are children of participants in the English Language Learner’s program and have been participants in the program themselves.

While I don’t have particulars yet on how much was raised, since that is still being tallied, there were a great many people that participated in the walk. Others who could not be a part of the walk donated funds as well, and monies were being collected even yesterday by individuals.

There was joy amidst the grief of losing a friend. There was camaraderie and cheering as people finished however many laps they chose to do. There were many smiles and a moment of silence to honor the one whose memory made it happen. Yesterday, we put our feet to work, making some magic happen in this little swath of the Midwest and helping children of immigrants achieve their dreams.

Imagine what could be done in this world if others could also put their own feet to work. What magic could be made? What light and love could be created? What joys and hopes would be found? What peace could be achieved if people just learned to put their feet to work and make a difference?

Put your feet to work.

Stay magical.

If you would like to give to the English Language Learner’s Scholarship Fund, you can contact Norwalk Christian Church.

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