Bella Life will be my non-profit, dedicated to serving the poor and alleviating the symptoms of a much bigger problem in the world: Corruption and greed, and lack of compassion or understanding for the poverty stricken people of America. And maybe one day, Africa.
I started naming everything Bella, including myself last year when I realized the little girl I’d seen in my visions would never actually be born. I had picked the middle name Bella for her. I know it sounds strange to pick the fruit from a tree that hasn’t bore any yet, but this is the world I live in.
I think though we opt into lives that initially test us and make us wonder why we’re here, in the end, with enough determination to the truth of who we are, we do stumble upon our calling.
Bella Life is in the beginning stages of becoming a real thing. I’ve served one homeless shelter so far by collecting Christmas Stockings full of necessities this past Christmas. My friend, Hope, was included and she filmed the outside of the building. I’m being brought to tears as I write this, remembering the lines of people sitting outside the building, waiting in the cold for a place to sleep, or eat, or both if they were lucky.
I spent some time being homeless in my teens. My mother had lost her husband and was supporting four children on a meager minimum wage salary. She lost her home due to not being able to pay rent on time one Christmas. We stayed in a seedy hotel for a couple of months, while she searched for anyone who would let her rent with bad credit. This proved to be harder than she thought and the ultimately the family was split up. I remember owning one pair of clothes during that time in my life, a pair of scrubs and a tank top that belonged to my friend.
We ate the same thing every single night, macaroni with tomato sauce. And we were asked, as teenagers who should have been attending school and playing sports, maybe running for class office, to work for the food the church gave us. In fact, the church was less than happy to serve three teenage children without them working for the food they claimed to offer the needy with hearts full of compassion, and in the way of God.
This project is close to my heart, and I hope that the powers that be want it more than me, because I’m in the same situation my mom found herself in once: Choosing a life of known hardship or refusing and breaking out of my role as someone destined for a life of poverty. I don’t mind being “poor”, as long as I’m serving a mission that isn’t supporting harmful and corrupt Government systems.
I’ll keep you posted on my progress, my projects, and where Bella Life leads me.