Marion, In. 
There’s something to be said for living differently. I have immense amounts of respect for people who do things their own way, for people who live life not just to be different, but because they genuinely believe in what they do.
Maybe a community change starts with small things, things of beauty, of service, of making ordinary things extraordinary.
Maybe that’s where the unexpected is exactly what the community needs.
Apparently, I need to work on my Tonka truck skills.
I had no idea I was lacking in this area, but my second interview placed me exactly where I didn't expect to be ... crawling on the floor in a women's shelter hunting down plastic trucks amongst a couch's resident dust bunnies.
The shelter's director, Edith wasn’t there when I knocked on the door. The residents at the house kindly let me in, then disappeared. I sat alone in the living room with Oprah blaring in the background, reporter's notebook in hand. I thought through my interview questions, and mentally made a list of the things I needed to do that day.
After a few moments, I felt someone staring at me. I turned to my right to find a pair of brown eyes giving me a pleading look. The little boy stood there quietly for a second, then grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the floor, his pile of Tonka trucks waiting.
For the next 20 minutes, my senior project research was entirely connected to my ability to roll a tiny plastic car over a ramp/heating vent.
My five year old friend was not satisfied with my abilities. I did not line up the cars correctly (although I did beat him through the race course) and I did not make appropriate crashing noises. He grew bored with the game and gave me a look when he saw my electric pink rainboots. "Why are you here?" he asked.
My reason for being at the center, Edith, showed up moments later.
Everyone wanted her attention. As we talked, women from the center came into speak with her every few minutes. They asked questions about everyday things, how she was doing, if they could help, and if she could help them.
She answered every question with patience and love.
Edith told me how much she loved her work ... how she knew she was called to help women and how God had uniquely designed her to be a part of the family that had developed at the center.
She told me about the long hours, the fact that she always gave out her cell phone number to the residents and the disappointments she carried when the women she loved left the center because they didn't make the right choices.
The way she talked about each situation was same: love, tempered with incredible hope and belief in redemption.
In the story of Marion, Edith is just one case study of fierce dedication to people. With her soft bun and simple clothes, she might not have looked like a fighter, but I left convinced that Edith would do anything to protect and take care of the people she loved.
In some sense, I think it's attitudes like this, mindsets of dedication, that will make a difference in Marion ... perhaps more than any organization, grant or plan anyone comes up with.
Maybe it takes one person giving out their cell phone number, offering help when they don't have to. Maybe it takes one person volunteering to make chicken and dumplings to feed women looking to start new lives. Maybe it takes getting down in the dust bunnies and telling a five-year-old he's valuable by paying attention, investing time.
In changing a community, individuals matter.
I wanted a practice interview before I got started.
Unfortunately, the busyness of life doesn’t always make that possible ... and sometimes that's exactly what needs to happen.
My first interview was Ryan and Katara, the pastors at God’s House Ministries in downtown Marion. I was excited but nervous, especially because God’s House is my home church and I respect both pastors and their vision for the Marion community. Exciting and intimidating, for sure!
I started out by telling them about my topic and asking them about altruism as a concept and as reality.
They gave me blank stares.
It turns out that altruism isn’t something people talk about. It’s not a term people use (everyday or not). Therefore, when I asked questions about it, all I got was a confused look.
I explained the concept a little more for them and suddenly, realized my topic needed to take a shift. I needed to re-word it. Perhaps abandon it all together?
Instead, this is what I came up with:
I expected our conversation to last around 20 minutes ... but we talked for an hour and a half. After my third question or so, the conversation became natural. It wasn’t an interview ... it was a dialogue. It was members of a community coming together to talk about potential and change, needs and hope.
Ryan and Katara became visibly excited when we started talking about change in Marion. They told me their history and described how as individuals, their life stories had become intertwined with Marion’s.
And I realized that’s what I’m looking for. I’m looking for stories of people who so care about their community that they live in a way meant to change it.
I’m a journalist because of the stories.
They’re what drives me, what I truly love about my field.
Meet the characters in my version of Marion’s story.
