Genesis tells us Noah weathered the great flood by building an ark for his family and a contingent of animals.
Nancy Gump isn't facing that kind of deluge, at least not yet, but finances are "super tight" at Ark Crisis Child Care Center, the emergency child care center for ages 6 weeks to 6 years she oversees at the corner of Lincoln Avenue and Governor Street.
BOB GWALTNEY / Courier & Press Hazel Townsend is a foster grandmother that helps with the children at Ark Crisis Nursery, Thursday, April 24, 2008.
"Closing our doors is not an option," says Gump, Ark's executive director, but she admits that most months she finds herself "robbing Peter to pay Paul."
She identifies with families living payday to payday. For her, it's a challenge to meet expenses that average $20,000 a month, with the lion's share of income coming from the community and corporate gifts.
The free service was launched in the early 1980s in a church basement by the Junior League because Evansville had, and still has, a higher-than-average rate of child neglect and abuse.
It looks like your typical day care. It's state licensed, and is open from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. weekdays.
A teacher with several toddlers in tow pushes a "bye-bye buggy" out for a sunny stroll. Down a hall, naptime blankets tumble in a dryer. And in the infant room, 1-year-old twins Levi and Allysa Earnst sit in highchairs while a nursery attendant wipes yellow smudges of nontoxic play paint from their lips and fingers.
But look closer.
At the front desk, a social service agency caseworker is dropping off a 2-year-old girl whose "overwhelmed" mom is taking another child to the doctor for heart tests. Nearby, Johnny Williams, a 29-year-old father in the process of gaining custody of his 4- and 7-year-old sons tells his youngest, Chase, to have fun, Daddy has to go to work.
On Fridays, social worker Amy Steele drops by to volunteer, helping families — often low-income — identify available community resources.
Toward the back of the former bank building, Hazel Townsend waits for the next hug. After her husband died two years ago, the sixty-something known as "Granny" was feeling lonely. She learned a local foster grandparent program would pay her to spend four mornings a week helping Ark's seven full-time employees — a small paycheck for "a blessing."
Removing her pink sandals, Townsend enters the nursery, eager to cuddle a baby or rock him if he cries.
BOB GWALTNEY / Courier & Press Hazel Townsend helps children at Ark Crisis Child Care Center clean up after a crafts project at the facility on Thursday. Townsend has worked at Ark for the last two years.
BOB GWALTNEY / Courier & Press Hazel Townsend, keeps the peace between the children of Ark Crisis Nursery, as they play outside the facility Thursday, April 24, 2008. Townsend is a foster grandmother with the nursery for the last two years.
"I go room to room, encouraging the kids in anything they do, but I like the infant room the best," she confides. "Babies are precious."
Someone mentions Kalab Lay, the Evansville toddler allegedly beaten to death by his parents.
"Oh, that was so painful. I wish that baby had been here," sighs Townsend.
Preschool teacher Yolanda Norman, previously with Toyota's day care facility in Gibson County, describes Ark as "a different kind of experience." At other centers where she's worked in the past 11 years, children typically were from stable homes.
Ark youngsters frequently are in stressful situations or foster care. They wind up at Ark while waiting to get into permanent day care or because there's no one to baby-sit.
A parent or guardian may have a doctor's appointment, job, job interview, court appearance or may just need a breather from stress. The family may be looking for a place to live or the parent may be in an outpatient drug treatment or counseling program.
"These kids lack consistency in their life," says Norman. "During the small amount of time they're with me, they get consistency. We bond quickly. I can see a child one day and never see them again, or see a child for six months or sometimes for a long time."
Destiny Earnst left twins Levi and Allysa for a few hours so she could take her sister to the doctor.
"I try not to use Ark too often because I know there are people who need it more," says Earnst, who has two older children, ages 2 and 4.
"I was registering my 4-year-old daughter for Head Start one day and going crazy (with all four kids in tow) when the Head Start lady told me about Ark," she says. "It's a wonderful place, very personal and they treat me with respect."
Gump says her agency tries to be helpful and nonjudgmental, but that doesn't mean it can't gently inquire about a family's problems.
"You get more bees with honey," she says, noting it's one small step toward engaging the community in solutions to child abuse and neglect.
Gump says in an ideal world, Ark (one of only 11 emergency crisis child care centers nationwide) would offer longer hours or overnight care since demand continues to grow. Ark provided 28,000 hours of child care in 2007 versus 26,000 in 2006, serving 125 different children in March alone.
But reality is pinching pennies.
"The only thing we outsource anymore is the lawn mowing," says Gump, noting staff members have been known to come back on weekends to do laundry.
She shops carefully, knowing which store will give her the best deals on milk and other food items. Technically, Ark is reimbursed by the government for meals, but the payments don't cover the actual costs of the breakfasts and lunches served.
Since United Way fell $500,000 short of its recent campaign goal, Gump expects her agency's allocation ($54,000 last year) to decline. Also, more than $50,000 in state money that previously went to Ark has been redirected to other local family programs.
The state did "find" $30,000 recently to help Ark this summer. In the meantime, Gump will continue to beat the bushes to pay spring's bills.
She hopes Ark's biggest fundraiser, the Keep the Ark Afloat Auction & Dinner in July, can raise nearly $100,000.