praised by the President of the United States. What can you tell us about your work?”
Russell put down the list and leaned forward for the remote. Quickly pressing the “record” button, he watched, completely mesmerized, as Cara Kessler eloquently explained.
“My husband, Jack, and I founded HEARTBEAT ministries almost ten years ago. We saw a desperation among the youth in our hometown, as well as in the cities around us. As youth ministers in our local church, we sought to answer why there was such deep despair among people who had so much for which to live.”
“And what kind of answers did you get?” the reporter asked.
Cara Kessler smiled from the screen in innocent radiance. Russell liked her clean-cut girl-next-door image. She was petite and delicate, yet there was a strength in her dark blue eyes. Wearing a plaid wool dress, Cara Kessler looked as though she were about to bake cookies or drive the car pool, not lead a youth ministry to national acclaim.
“. . . and so it seemed that lack of opportunity along with training, education, and spiritual guidance surfaced as the root cause of most problems. With so much social acceptability toward activities that only work to harm children, my husband and I felt the need to do something positive. We created HEARTBEAT to meet the needs of Kansas youth.”
“But how does HEARTBEAT differ from other organizations that deal with the betterment of youth?”
Cara nodded as if anticipating the question. “HEARTBEAT seeks to train people to help their own community’s children. Unlike national organizations that headquarter in places well removed from the people in need, each community is responsible to facilitate their own organization. HEARTBEAT stresses local people meeting local needs. Eachchapter sets up their own organization, based on the anticipated goals of their community. Of course there is the office here in Topeka, but it’s mainly a gathering place for information. If the local chapters need answers to questions or help finding assistance outside their community, the Topeka office is here to assist them.”
“Does HEARTBEAT represent a particular church or religious affiliation?”
“No, we’ve sought to keep it interdenominational. We see great diversity across the state in regard to religious views, occupational focus, educational needs, and cultural attitudes. The problems that face a youth whose parents are farmers are different from the problems of the inner-city child whose mother is working two jobs to make ends meet. And while children have much in common, it seems to be the individual problems that create the significant complications. HEARTBEAT is designed to help find answers to any and all of these needs, because again, the local church and community are in charge of setting and achieving the goals of their particular chapter.”
“So how does HEARTBEAT fund expenses?”
Cara’s expression never changed as she demurely folded her hands in her lap. “HEARTBEAT is a nonprofit organization. As I said before, because the needs are met at a local level, each community is responsible for their own chapter and what they accomplish. Local businesses and community leaders generally seem more than willing to financially support the kids in their neighborhoods. They see it as an investment in the future good of all who live there. The office here has benefited from a network of support from all across the state. That money comes in the form of donations, and after paying small overhead costs and the salaries of my partner, Pastor Joe Milken, and myself, it is always turned back into the ministry.”
“But how can you support a business without a steady stream of funding?” the reporter asked in disbelief.
“That’s where faith comes in. God has yet to let me down when I’ve needed Him.”
Promising some around-the-state footage of HEARTBEAT’s progress after a commercial break, the reporter carefully steered away from the issue