Diane Williams - Angels in Action - Stories to Inspire

In the years that followed, while maintaining the household and providing me with 24-hour care, seven days a week, my daughters also managed to excel academically and behave respectfully. Both girls worked hard. Whenever they would complain about the situation, I used it as an opportunity to point out to them that God had big plans for their lives. Jazzy would give me a blank stare, and Tiffany would hang her head and reply, “Yeah, Mom.”

In addition to my husband leaving, I could feel my girls starting to slip away. I knew we needed something to hold us together as a family, but what? Full of fear and hopelessness, I prayed for something, anything to bond with my daughters and for them to meld with each other.

In Tiffany’s junior year of high school, her academic counselor told her about a summer program called Young Scholars sponsored by the Junior Statesmen of America Foundation at Yale University. Tiff immediately applied. About five weeks later, the mail carrier delivered a letter saying Tiffany had been selected for three program classes at Yale: American Government Congressional, Speech Communications, and Debate Workshops. There was only one problem: she needed an additional $3000 after her scholarship.

Tiffany approached me with a look of despair, explaining the information from Yale suggested students who needed additional funds sell candies and raffle tickets, as well as request donations from relatives and friends.

Exasperated, she exclaimed, “Mom, I only know three or four relatives, and all my friends are unemployed!”

I asked Tiffany to leave the papers in front of me and told her to give me a bit of time to mull over the information. She sighed and went to her room. Sensations of both guilt and anger filled me. I was angry at this disease that had deprived me of my ability to earn a living and depleted my savings account.

Tiffany had worked hard. Now that she was accepted for the Yale program, it was my responsibility to do something to help her, but what? I continued to flip through the pages of the flyers and brochures that were included with her letter. I became overwhelmed and began my five-minute pity party—my daily allowance.

I thought about the credo I had relentlessly imbedded in my daughters, “God has big plans for your lives.” I prayed that God would show me the way. The deadline was drawing nearer and nearer and God hadn’t given me a response. It was time to change my prayer strategy. Instead of studying those brochures, I visualized Tiffany there at Yale living and doing the things the brochure described, then I asked God to show me how that dream could be a reality.

In a moment during prayer time, something clicked in my brain. The brochures I was visualizing, I could create it. “Wow!” I said out loud.

My long forgotten previous position as a community youth director flashed in my mind. The core of that job was fundraising! Coupled with the materials from the Yale program and my knowledge of raising funds, I knew I could put together a media campaign.

Just then Tiffany returned. “Tiffany, are you committed to work for this money?” I asked her. She flashed an odd look at me. Hesitantly, she nodded her head. “Let’s ask your sister if she’s willing to help,” I said.

Tiffany called Jazzy into the room. I outlined to them what I needed in order to implement a fundraising campaign. I had an assignment for each of them. Jazzy agreed to design Tiff’s résumé and letterhead. Tiffany would research donors, distribute the kits, and develop a tracking system to record responses.

We went to our respective areas and began executing our five-week plan. By the end of the first week, we were armed with all the materials to be included in the press kit. Jazzy’s eye for beauty and computer skills transformed the otherwise plain media kit into a professional work of art. The second week, we began the mailing.

At the beginning of week three, Tiffany woke to my frantic yelling. Several newspapers had called requesting interviews. Los Angeles Times in particular wanted to speak with Tiffany, Jasmine, her school’s staff members, and me. They also wanted to do a photo session at school and at home.

Then the phone rang. This time it was her school, informing us that the reporters had phoned them. Tiff and I rejoiced so loudly that Jasmine woke up and joined us.

After we told her what happened, Jazzy pulled Tiff by the hand.

“Come on,” she said smiling, “I’ll help you pick out an outfit for the photo shoot!”

I heard the closet door sliding when the phone rang again. By the time she left that morning, Tiffany had interviews scheduled for most of the week. That was only the beginning. Once Los Angeles Times had printed our story, San Diego Tribune and other newspapers nationwide picked it up and spread Tiffany’s story.

Early one morning the following week, I called Tiffany again with excitement in my voice. I had just received three phone calls. Two donors called, complimented Jazzy’s work, and said Tiffany should start packing. They would finance her entire trip.

As I related this news to Tiffany, I could almost hear her heart beating. She screamed, “What?!”

“Your article hit the papers today. Pick up all the papers you can gather,” I told her. That day, Tiffany went off to school, and I became her secretary.

Not long after, a third caller told me she had just finished reading our story in the Times . “It touched my heart,” she said in a soft voice. Then she expressed interest in meeting us, and we set up a time to meet with her.

By the time Tiffany returned from school, I had a pile of messages waiting. She walked into the house chatting nonstop. She chortled while she told me she was teased and called a celebrity all day long. She looked at the messages and phoned the Yale coordinator, who congratulated Tiffany and told her she had a stack of checks sitting on her desk with Tiffany’s name on them. Tiffany hung up the phone and begins chanting, “I’m going to Yale!”

The following day when Tiffany arrived home from school, the doorbell rang. Tiffany opened the door and there stood a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as the woman who had read our story in the Times . She spoke softly and walked gracefully as she stepped in.

“I am so proud of your daughter. The reporter didn’t mention anything about clothing, accessories, or spending money in the article. Tiffany, you worked hard. Congratulations!” She handed Tiffany two money orders, totaling $1500. “Go shopping, and have some fun in New York. If that’s not enough, please let me know. Money will not be the factor that keeps you from attending Yale and having a good time this summer,” she said.

I tried to hold back the tears as Tiffany embraced the generous woman and promised to contact her with some pictures when she returned. “I’d like that,” she said as she left.

Shortly after, the editor of her school newspaper asked Tiffany to write an article focusing on how she juggled her caregiving responsibilities while maintaining a great attitude, an excellent GPA, and participation in so many extracurricular activities. She received financial contributions from her school’s administration, teachers, and staff. Tiff placed them all on the table. “Wow! I’m going to Yale,” she said in wonder.

After she had packed and left, we still received checks and phone calls. Even the mayor of La Verne made a call. By the time the summer was over, Tiffany had met some rather distinguished, professional people in our community. Many of them invited her to lunch or dinner upon her return to tell them about her experience at Yale. She would share about her A+ in both subjects, the vigorous debates she heard at the United Nations, the Broadway productions she had seen, the fancy restaurants she frequented, and the shops she explored in Midtown Manhattan.