Making a difference, changing the world, hugging a child - that is what we do. We do it all day long, every day, for dozens, and hundreds and thousands of children. Here's why:

It was a little after 2:00 A.M. when the phone rang. A caseworker from Child Protective Services (CPS) said, "we have a four year old who is bruised, battered and very frightened. Can you take her in?" Beth (the events are accurate but the names are fictitious) was dropped off within half an hour. Within another 30 minutes she had been bathed, fed and hugged a great deal. By 3:30 that morning she was fast asleep, with her new teddy bear, in her own bed, sharing a room with Susan.

The next morning, the local medical center sent out a nurse who did a complete physical and treated the cuts and bruises - at least the ones on the surface. Our job, to mend the hurt felt by the heart, the mind and the soul, had just begun.

The first thing we noticed was that Beth thought that the only way to be heard was to yell and the only way to react when one doesn't get what they want was to hit, kick or bite. As upsetting as this type of behavior was to see, it wasn't the least bit surprising as young children are incredibly accurate mimics of the environment they have been living in.

It would be nice to say that Susan and Beth became best friends right away but it took a while for Beth to feel she could trust anyone. In fact, Beth was quick to blame Susan for any and everything imaginable. Our child care workers kept intervening, offering assurances and repeated instances of warmth and caring - the "power of positive proximity."

And then one day, after about a week, we heard Susan explaining to Beth about the "magic" words, how "please" and "thank you" were much more likely to get you what you wanted. And, at least in this case, it really was like magic. Beth stopped hitting and she stopped screaming. She went from being someone who tested everyone's patience, at every opportunity, to being our model citizen.

Two weeks from the day Beth arrived, Joshua was put in our care. His first morning with us, at breakfast, was like watching a re-run of Beth's initial few hours. No matter how hard our staff tried, we could not stop the flow of tears or ease the very obvious pain. And then, all of a sudden, Beth walked over and handed Joshua her own teddy bear and said to him "it's OK, don't cry any more, nobody here will hit you -everyone here loves you."

As the cliché goes, there wasn't a dry eye in the house, at least among the grown-ups. Actually there were several pairs of dry eyes. They belonged to the children, most importantly to Joshua.
Is this series of events typical for the West Valley Child Crisis Center? Well, in many ways it is as, in the course of a year, we care for approximately 140 children, keeping them out of harm's way and providing them with nurturing, affection and a whole lot of love. There's probably not a page in the book of human emotions that we have not read on multiple occasions.

You probably know a great deal about us, just from our name. Our mission statement fleshes things out a bit - "to provide temporary shelter and supervision for children who are victims of, or at risk of, abuse, neglect or abandonment, in a safe, nurturing, homelike environment staffed by quality care providers and to interact with the community to increase awareness of, and work to prevent, the cycle of child abuse."

At any one time we care for 15 children, ages birth - eight, at two West Valley houses. We are open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.
A recent Conference on Child Abuse pointed out that what goes on during six months in the life of a three year old has 100 times the impact and importance of a similar amount of time for someone 30 years of age.

We are charged with caring for children at the most formative times of their lives. It's hard to imagine that anything is more important than seeing to it that we do as good a job as possible. And, if we do, the benefits accrue to a universe far beyond the clients we serve - it will help their families, the community, the state, the country and the planet. We would like to believe that, if we are able to do our job at maximum efficiency, we will never be asked to shelter a child whose parent had been under our care.

Why this all matters so much
It is said that if you have a positive impact on one person, especially a child (since the long-range implications are so great), you have paid your rent for living on the planet. If that is true, imagine the ramifications of affecting 15 at one time, 140 in one year (400 a year in our new facility) or more than 1000 in the decade ahead. And it's even more important than that, as the youngsters we care for are going to grow up into adults who will have children who are hugged, not hit.

Perhaps it can easily be summed up with the rest of the story about Joshua. After several months with us he was taken in by a wonderful, loving set of foster parents. On the day he left he made sure to give everyone a hug. And, as a parting gesture, he took his teddy pair, the treasure of his life for the past many weeks, and gave it to a youngster who had arrived only a couple of days earlier. He explained that this was his "lucky" bear and that it would be lucky for whoever had it.

You know, Joshua was right - he was lucky in that he has found his way to us. And the person who got the bear next was just as fortunate to be in our care. But there are far too many Joshua's out there who will never learn to smile or laugh or hug or care unless we get more help - and get it pretty quickly. That's why this matters so much. Just ask Joshua. Or Susan. Or Beth.

Or Jose. Or Rebecca. Or Robert. Or Kwami. Or Jacki. Or Michael. Or Jennifer. Or dozens and hundreds and thousands of others.