The Mustard Seed School.

Our family has been looking to adopt. An organization, that is. One we can really give our hearts, time and what itty bitty extra cash we have. And we found it: The Mustard Seed School, an emergency school for homeless children here in Sacramento.

Last week, as a family, we took a tour of the school and brought the swimsuits, towels and sunblock we'd collected from the community for the school's summer program. These kids are going swimming, thanks to the generosity of so many of our friends and family; we brought enough sunblock to protect the entire epidermis of California, I think.

Our tour guide was one of the coordinators of the school, Lianna. She was wonderful, full of information about the school, including the part about how she had once been a parent of a student at the school, back when she was homeless with a seven-year old. She had been an addict, had been raised by addicts and had her first child at 14. And now, here she was, employed, with housing, her children in school and doing fine. Here she was, helping other families get back on their feet, giving them the second chance she got right here. Karma in motion.

Tonight, we made tomorrow's lunches for the kids. We signed up for one day this month and next to provide lunches for the twenty-five or so children that usually fill the school on any given day, kids that are brought to the school from living in their cars, from living on the street, from living in whatever hell or happenstance has led them there. Tonight we made lunches, the four of us, to deliver to the school tomorrow, because as Finn, my three year old said to me: we make lunches because we have food and they don't and if we don't make lunch, the kids will have no lunch.

Sometimes it's just so simple. Three-year old kind of simple.