Growth Charts

I bet most kids had a growth chart when they were young. My parents hung ours on the wall and my brother and I would stand against the wall as they marked our height with the date.  I would always spin around quickly to see how much I grew since our last measurement.  We always wanted to be taller and so when my brother finally passed my mom in height, it was a good day for him.  It was easy for us to love growth as kids.  I suppose adults don’t find the same satisfaction when their growth is measured because often times the only growth they see is in the increase of their weight.

But there is something that still fascinates me about growth.  I get excited to see people get taller and I get excited when people change and become something better.  For me, life is about growth.

You could only imagine the anticipation that filled my mind as I opened my favorite piece of mail that comes all the way from Mozambique, Africa once a year.  It was the Namanjavira ADP Annual Progress Report.  In usual fashion, I hurried as I opened the letter, hoping the report was good.

To summarize what I read:

Felizardo just turned six years old.  His health is good and he is in 2nd grade.  He attends Sunday School and Sunday Mass.  His favorite hobbies are soccer and jacks in box.  But most importantly, through World Vision, his family received mosquito nets this year.

I looked at the picture to the left and there he stood, dressed with the shirt that I sent him and the same pair of shoes he wore when I met him last year.  He is posing with a thumbs up and a much happier look on his face.  His skin and hair look healthy and he is so much taller than last year.

Meeting Felizardo changed my life and seeing his progress in the last year reminds me of the belief I have in World Vision to help change kids’ lives.  But then it reminds me of the belief I have in a Big God who loves to work the impossible for people.  Although it’s difficult to gauge the rate of growth against impossible things, I know that’s part of the mysteriousness of God.  And I have to trust that if a shirt I mail from Minnesota can find it’s way onto the back of a six-year old boy all the way into the deep villages of Mozambique, then surely God can do a big work in a home of two people who have forgotten what it feels like to stand against the wall as a child to see how much they’ve grown.  Because whether you’re six years old or 60, becoming a better you is something we all want in life and though sometimes it is hard to see progress, often times, other people can see what you cannot see.  And when the progress reports are submitted, you too will see that hope is alive in what once seemed so impossible to score on the growth charts.

 

Certain in Uncertainity

For the second time, the stories from a village in Africa have driven me to find strength and hope in uncertain days.  But I didn’t think I’d be speaking to myself; preparing myself for what would happen in the next few days.

After an incredibly refreshing (and exciting) long weekend in the sunshine state, I was welcomed home with the news no one wants to hear.  The company I work for is closing it’s doors.  This Friday, Iwill be added to the statistic of an ever growing state of difficulty in our economy.

But for one of the first times in my life after receiving life changing news, I’m upbeat about it.  Though the days ahead will again, be tough; I’m excited for them to begin because I know greater things are yet to come.

I read on April 29, in the most brilliant writing of Oswald Chambers’,
My Utmost for His Highest:

“To be certain of God mean that we are uncertain in all our ways.  We do not know what a day may bring forth.  This is generally said with a sigh of sadness; it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation.  We are uncertain of the next steps, but we are certain of God.  When we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainity and expectancy.  Leave the whole thing to Him, it is gloriously uncertain how He will come in, but He will come.  Remain loyal to Him.”

I am not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He will do next.

 

World Water Day

Sunday, March 22 was World Water Day.  The timing was perfect.  Saturday night at dinner I was discussing with my favorite how difficult the quest of 40 days of water has become.  In the beginning, it was an easy adjustment.  I started to crave water.  It was exciting to drink only water.

A few weeks passed and the cravings began.  At first, they were easy to tolerate and push to the side — but the denial of my taste bud favorites triggered war with my attitude.  I sat at dinner and said, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”  Frustration was loud that night. 

With wise counsel, we considered the cycle of sin.  So, I break my commitment, justify every beverage thereafter, and stand at the end of 40 days with self disapointment.  No, it’s not worth it.  I can fight for this.

It was a lesson my parents taught me when I was young.  I was never allowed to quit anything until the end of the season.  They taught me to stick it out when it got tough.  That when I don’t “feel” like doing or being apart anymore, I have to finish it.  And just don’t finish, but finish with as much enthusiasm and excellence as I had when I began.

I watched a short dvd of my trip to Mozambique last week.  There is a scene when a woman bends over a hole in the ground and dips a cup into the water and then takes a big drink.  The color of the water was the same color of water that washes off your hands after working with pottery.  But she’s thirsty and there isn’t any clean water.  What would you do?

We’re halfway to 40, but my heart is more than halfway stirred.  Consider the opportunties before you to allow more people access to clean water.

One dollar provides clean water to an African for one year.  I bet we’re easily on our way to reaching hundreds when one day, a drink of clean water will be like a refreshing rain after a long, dry season.

 

40 days.

I do very few things, consistently, day after day.  I, like you have standard patterns, but beyond the basic, I am constantly adapting and changing my routine in an effort to cater to my mood or attitude at the moment.  It’s probably more work than what it’s worth — so for the next 40 days, I’m going to try something new.

Completely inspired by Blood: Water Mission, http://blog.bloodwatermission.com/a-challenge-40-days-of-water.php I’ve decided to drink nothing but water for the next 40 days.  In an effort to really get it, I’ve cut out some of my favorites like raspberry Schwepps (raspberry ginger ale) and peppermint tea.  Straight H20.  No sugars, flavorings, or adaptations to make it more desireable.  I know, it sounds crazy.

But what really sounds crazy to me is this — there are hundreds of thousands of people around the world who do not share our idea of water.  Being in the land of 10,000 lakes and growing up on the largest fresh water lake in the world, it’s hard for me to conceptualize the idea of being without clean water.  And so ironically, rather than going without, I”m going for only.  Maybe it will influence the rest of my habits.  Shorter showers, turning the water off while doing dishes, while minimizing the wastefulness of my lifestyle.

As I sit and twist the green lid off my newly purchased green steel water bottle, I’m gently reminded of those faces around the world who walk eight hours twice a day for water.  I, like you, walk to the nearest faucet and turn it on for immediate refreshment.  The idea behind 40 days of water is to collect the dollars you would have spent on beverages and make a donation to an organization actively working to build wells and promote sanitation through clean water.  I wonder how much I’ll have saved come Easter.

Day 2 and I’ve only had one mini headache.  Funny, I drink more water and less sugars and I get a headache.  People in Africa drink water and end up with, well, much more than some pain in their head.

Interesting.

Here’s to 40 days, clean water, and life around the world.  Drink up.

 

Beauty in Brokenness.

Other than the Martha Stewart magazine that arrives in the mail for me each month, my favorite piece of mail is edged in red, white, and blue.  It’s an envelope that is clearly beat up from the journey it’s taken in the last month to get to me from Mozambique, Africa.  Inside, I find correspondence from the Area Development Program Community of Namanjavira where my sponsored child Felizardo lives.

I picked up my stack of mail off the counter, momentarily wishing I would have checked the mail earlier in the week.  As I typically do, I open my mail in an order of determination; always saving the best for last.  Never disappointed, I carefully opened the envelope from World Vision.

Pictures immediately fell from the packet and I resisted the urge to look at them before reading the letter.  In anticipation, I quickly read the first page and in its contents, I am encouraged.  I flip to the next page of the packet.  It’s a letter from Felizardo.  He says,

“With that gift you addressed to me, we decided to buy a bicycle that will help us for transport, transporting me from place to place, specifically from school to home and so on.  Now the problem is solved.”

I paused.  The months since my trip to Africa have been difficult.  Every day, I’m caught in between.  Wrestling with the questions of what’s next, thinking and praying for Felizardo’s family, thinking and praying for my own family who is wrestling with tough days of heaviness and uncertainty.  Every day I fight for the hope I witnessed 10,000 miles from my home to be as alive in the story I tell today.  My heart has ached more in four months than any other time in my life.  Sometimes it seems I feel the hurt and pain others are experiencing and I fight for hope; a beautiful hope that will sustain and offer strength and peace along the way.

I pick up the pictures that fell from the letter.  I closely examine the three pictures, not wanting to miss a detail.  The bike is brand new, still wrapped in plastic.  Felizardo stands next to the bike in the same outfit he wore when I met him.  “Funky, Original, Cute, Little Dude.”  The shirt, shorts, and shoes are his best.  I flipped through the three pictures a few times.  I stopped at the first picture again.  I wondered if the woman next to Felizardo was his mom or sister.  She was clearly wearing her best too.  Her heels were white as if they’ve never been worn.  I noticed the necklace around her neck and then was drawn to the bracelets around her wrist.  I paused again.  They looked so familiar.  I remembered.  My Dad, Mom, & I made a bunch of beaded bracelets before I left for Africa.  I put a few in the bag of gifts I brought for Felizardo’s family.  She was wearing both of them.

Seeing the bracelets in the picture meant more to me than seeing what the family purchased as a result of a monetary gift I sent one day.  There is no doubt my travel to Africa has changed my life.  As I sit here today, unsure of the stirrings in my heart and what they mean, I rest confidently that there is beauty in brokenness.

As a bicycle may have solved a problem in their life, those bracelets on her wrist in those pictures, blessed my life.  It’s a unique relationship, one I wish everyone could experience.  It will change you.  It will break you.  It will fill your heart with compassion where some days, all you do is ache to find the beauty in your brokenness.

Today, I was reminded again of the beautiful hope we share.

 

In Between Africa and America

I’m turning into a junkie and I can’t help it.  Really, I can’t.  Just about everyday, I find myself consumed with books, blogs, and websites.  Today, I was easily distracted for a solid 30 minutes.  I wanted to hear her story, I wanted to learn her name, and I wanted to respond.  I wanted to be reminded of the hope she found.

Because someone gave, her community will have clean water; free from bacteria & other disease causing organisms.

There is this deep need within me to fight for justice.  I have fallen in love with people and organizations passionate to do the same.  Do the (RED) thing and get on board with Gap, Hallmark, & Apple, who are creating products to help you help eliminate AIDS in Africa.  Or, stand as ONE and help make poverty history.

Wells (or Boreholes as they call them in Mozambique) are not only providing clean water, but they’re saving lives. 

Community members and leaders are trained and educated on basic well equipment maintenance.  People travel from all over to share the clean water.  Community is created.  Life is restored.  I stood from a distance and watched a little girl pump the handle of the well.  Clean, cool, crisp water poured into a bucket.  She smiled.  She’s been healthier since the deep well was drilled in her village.  We climbed back into the vehicles and reached for our bottles of water.  “It’s important to stay hydrated,” we were reminded.  “Definitely,” I said, feeling guilty as I took a long drink to cool my body. 

I was stuck in between Africa & America.

I learned a big lesson that day.  Denying myself a drink from a water bottle wasn’t going to allow more people access to clean water. At the same rate, denying my ability to respond to a need that would allow more people access to clean water wouldn’t do any more good than feeling guilty as I tilted the bottle and drank some water in a country that lacks a basic survival necessity.

I’ve struggled this Christmas with exchanging gifts with friends and family.  There really isn’t anything any of us need, so why don’t we forego the entire tradition?  But then I remembered the lesson I learned one really hot day in Africa.  There is nothing wrong with enjoying gift exchanges — but there is a way to make your gift more purposeful.

I stood at a boutique last week, talking with a lady from Uganda.  I admitted I could easily spend the same amount of money (if not more) on a handbag at a department store — but it would be so much more meaningful if I knew my money was helping to make life a little less difficult for a family in Uganda.  And so began my Christmas shopping; each dollar making a difference around Uganda, Rwanda, Mozambique, and China. 

I’ve been stuck in between Africa and America since I’ve been back from Mozambique.  Honestly, most days, I don’t know what to do about it.  But today, I’ve found a way to make the season bright for my friends and family in Africa and in America, by steering this passion to “exercise kindness, justice, and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight.”

Merry Christmas.

 

the road less traveled.

The drive was longer than all of the others.  We arrived in a desolate area; piled out of the vehicles, most of us unsure of this initiative site.  I looked around me.  There wasn’t any singing.  There were no people there to welcome us with dance.  I couldn’t identify any indicator of life in the near surroundings.  Then, we started to walk.

We followed a path, uncertain of where it would lead.  The trail led us down a hill, through tall grass, and around a few turns.  When we reached the bottom of the hill, we stood there curious, wondering how we were going to cross the river.  We were greeted by a few locals in their canoe.  As instructed, we stepped into our ride that would take us to the other side.

“I’ve done little reading on HIV/AIDS in the last few years.  Honestly, I’ve found myself more interested in issues concerning clean water and poverty.  That is, until recently.  A few years ago, a close friend of mine learned her brother was infected with HIV.  Unfortunately, I had to travel 10,000 miles to begin to understand one story and another 10,000 miles to realize my personal conflict as I thought about morality vs survival.  The USA vs Africa.”

We stood on the beach, safely arriving to the other side.  I looked up the hill and realized it was going to be a long journey to our destination.  One by one, each of us climbed up the rugged beginnings of the trail that was before us.  Unaware of where we were headed, someone commented about the roughness of the terrain.  I turned and asked a team member if he knew anything about the project we were visiting.  “People living with HIV/AIDS,” he responded.  I kept walking.  Silent, I tried to prepare myself for the unknown.

“AIDS is a global pandemic.  Nearly 33 million people live with HIV.  Two-thirds of all people living with HIV are in Africa.  By 2010, more than 20 million children will be orphaned due to AIDS.  Another person dies every 15 seconds.  This crisis will not go away by itself.”

Source: AIDS Epidemic Update, UNAIDS, December 2006.

I began to think about how the HIV/AIDS stigma affects me at that moment.  For some reason, I’m reminded of a story I read in a book on Social Justice.  A woman has five children.  She lost her husband to illness earlier in the year.  Since his death, there has been little income for the family.  She struggles to find a way to provide food for her hungry children.  She meets a man.  He offers her $10 in exchange for one night.  She considers her situation.  The  next day, she is able to provide one more meal for her children.  A decision laced with morality, quickly becomes a decision laced in survival.  She has become infected with HIV.  Due to the close proximity within living conditions, her children contract the disease.  Each day continues to be a fight for survival.

Someone comments on the road being less traveled.  It is obvious the stigma in Africa has not been broken.

We keep walking.

“A week after arriving back in the States from 12 days spent in Africa, I took part in the World Vision Experience.  It was what I needed to allow myself to start processing the most difficult, yet most hope-filled visit while in Africa.  I walked through the individual interactive site, learning the story of a boy named Kombo.  He, like many others was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS.  I walked through the doors of the clinic, into a chapel where faces lined the walls made of sticks.  Some faces on those photos had a red positive sign stamped across them.  HIV is not a respecter of persons.  But, there is hope.”

That specific site in Africa shared stories of hope.  I left that day, hopeful of the future.  Though child mortality rates continue to rise and life expectancies continue to fall, the people living with HIV/AIDS still had life.  They are receiving education as well as anti-retro viral medication to prolong their days.  They are beginning to tell their story, in hopes that others will fight with them.

I shared with the team some encouragement.  “Where there is life, there is hope.”  I learned the next day it’s actually biblical.  Ecclesiastes 9:4 says, “…Anyone who is among the living has hope…”

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both. And be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth; then took the other, just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear; though as for the passing there had worn them really about the same. And both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.  I shall be telling this with a sigh, somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
Robert Frost

World AIDS Day.  12.01.08. Take the road less traveled.

 

His big eyes.

Cheri leaned over and whispers, “He looks like Aldo.” 

They told us they probably wouldn’t be at the lunch with the 40 children sponsored by people who attend Eagle Brook. 

Colleen points to a little girl on the bench and says, “She really looks like the pictures I have of Dacia.”

I scan the benches with an idea of what Felizardo looks like.  Surely, they are not here.  My eyes stop on a little boy sitting in the very last row.  I wonder if that’s him, I thought.

Meanwhile, a World Vision manager stands with a list in her hands.  As if she overheard our whispers, she walks to the second row and reaches for the hand of a little boy in a power ranger shirt.  She walks with him over to us and Cheri’s excitement begins to grow.  “I think that’s him, that’s Aldo,” she says to me.  Quickly, my eyes begin to fill with tears.  “Is this really happening?” I wonder. 

Aldo stands in front of Cheri as she touches his arms.  I look over at Matt and he has just met both of his children.  Mark and Dale are reunited with their kids they’ve met on a previous trip to Mozambique.  I shifted my weight on the chair that was sitting awkwardly in the dirt.  Looking at Colleen, we both began to laugh at the fullness of that moment.  Someone calls my name and I turn around and before me stands this precious little boy whose name is Felizardo.

Immediately, I am lost for words.  His big eyes look at me as either one of us really know what to do in that moment.  I can’t take my eyes off him.  I introduce myself to him and he gives me a thumbs up as his eyes look to the side.  His shirt read, “Funky. Original. Little Dude. I AM CUTE”  I laugh.  It’s the most perfect shirt he could have worn.  I laugh as I tell Cheri, “That’s how I talk!”  I wipe the tears away as they slowly overflow from my eyes.  We take a quick picture to try and capture our first meeting.

We had no idea we would be meeting our children at this lunch.  It was among many, unexpected surprises and blessings World Vision prepared for us. 

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing with all of the children.  Cheri and I sang our well-rehearsed round of “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,” while the faster we sang, the harder we laughed, and the more fun we had that afternoon. 

Meeting Felizardo and spending most of the next day with him and the rest of our team and their kids was beyond incredible.  As Felizardo and I were laughing, kicking and bouncing the soccer ball back and forth, I said to Cheri, “Are we really in Africa, playing soccer with our sponsored kids?!” 

After our first meeting, I wondered if Felizardo would warm up to me and if we could build a connection with each other despite age, color, and language.  It didn’t take long for those smiles to come once we started playing with the soccer ball.  It was probably hours, but it didn’t seem that way — I could have played catch and bounced that ball the rest of the day, but we had to say goodbye.  With help from our interpreter, we exchanged a few words.  Among those words from Felizardo came three words I’ll never forget.  He says, “I love you.”  My heart swells with fullness.  “I love you too,” I respond, as I find myself getting choked up by three words that meant more to me in that moment.  I give him a big hug and watch him get into the van.  I wave and my eyes begin to fill with tears again. 

I watch the van leave the site and I suddenly remember why I chose his card off that table one February weekend.  He had such big, bright eyes, and as the van drove away, they were looking back at me.  

I will never be the same.  And, I don’t think he will either.

 

Soon. I’ll sing the song for you.

Do you ever feel there is so much to say, you’re not sure what to say?

I do.  Right now.  Last week.

The 12 days I spent in Africa.

The 12 days being home from Africa.

There is so much hope to be told.

I can’t keep it for myself.

Stay tuned.

You won’t want to miss the songs they’re singing in Africa.

It’s right around the corner.

Soon. I’ll sing the song for you.

 

In 16 days.

I’ve moved his picture around my house for the last few months. It’s been in my car and on my night stand, but I think I’ve finally found a home for it to rest. I laid in bed last night in the direction of the picture and for the first time since I decided to go on this trip, emotion filled my heart. In 16 days, I’m headed to the other side of the world where I will meet Felzardo; my sponsored child living in Mozambique, Africa.

The anticipation is growing. I sit on my bed and look at his picture. My friend asks, “Does he know you’re coming?” I sit and think, “I’m not sure.”

His picture stands on a shelf among displays of my life. Among the pictures of friends & weddings, family & quotes, hangs a plaque that says, “Passion. A powerful force that cannot be stopped.”  I suppose the display encapsulates the things that are most important to me.  I look at the wall from across the room and I begin to dream.  My heart stirs and for a second it feels like time stops silent.  I wonder what that moment will be like when we meet for the first time.  I wonder what I’ll say or if I’ll cry.  I wonder how that moment will change the rest of my life.  I wonder how our story could change the course of history for that community.

The picture directly above Felzardo is of three friends who have challenged me more in my faith than any single person ever.  They motivate me to love and to dream in ways that are far beyond my reach.  On the shelf to the left is a picture from the trip I took in the spring where I spent those days reading and writing while dreaming of something far greater than anything I’ve ever done or been.  Love wins.  Is what I wrote in the sand moments before the photo was taken.  On a notecard reads one of my favorite scripture verses, “…I wait for the Lord, my soul waits and in His word I put my hope.  Put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with Him there is full redemption.”  Finally, an artistic photo of a clock stands in the place on the shelf next to Felzardo.  Time.  It goes fast for most of us.  But greater than the speed of that which we all wish we had more of, is the perfection in the timing of those moments that surround the memories & the passion on the wall. 

For such a time is this.  To go and do.  To live and love.  To not only dream, but to be a part of the story that is being written.  To be a face with a story.  To build confidence through hope that as many wonder if $35 a month is really making a difference – One team.  One October.  One community.  Ten days.  Will experience the love of a child and their family who also wonder what that moment will be like when they meet their sponsor who has been the answer to their prayers.

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?”
And I said, “Here am I. Send me.”