My Compassion visit

Yesterday I had the privilege of meeting my Compassion child. The experience was a mixture of joy and sadness. I was so expectant for the day to unfold and looked forward to the chance of folding this boy into a loving embrace. The moment arrived and he shyly came out of the project office to meet me. I greeted him with a hearty hug. His eyes remained downcast, his demeanour humble. We were welcomed inside and his folder was produced. The Compassion Director poured over the details, informing me of his progress. He explained his health, education and spiritual results.

Eric hopes to be a teacher. The gifts I brought him couldn't have been more perfect, an abc chart, alphabet cards, writing paper and pencils so perfect to nurture this dream. A glimmer of a smile appeared as I handed over the tennis balls and musical book I had brought along. Eric hesitantly tapped on the keyboard as I gently showed him how to read the numbers and touch the keys to follow the musical pattern and words. We then bundled into the van and drove ten minutes to his home. As we drove I thought about how far he had to walk to school. It was hard to believe that children, some very young have to walk on average 18 kilometres in rural areas. 

As we pulled up to Eric's home I looked out at the little mud hut in front of me, it was tiny! The rain had been streaming down for a few minutes and had now turned the red earth to slush. We gingerly made our way inside as the rain continued to fall. It was dark. A streak of light from outside filled the doorway and offered a little illumination as we sat down on smooth wooden chairs. A row of chairs, a reed mat, and a small table filled all of the space. A simple door separated the room beyond. This room had a low bench along the back wall, a tattered mosquito net bunched to one side. At the other end, a bamboo bench leaned across the mud wall, a small window allowing in a shaft of light. 

Before arriving we had stopped at the local markets to purchase rice, sugar, oil, porridge, biscuits, soda, toothpaste and cakes of soap. I wondered how long the food items would feed a family of eight? Eric's father helped our driver unoad the supplies we had brought with us. The gifts were hefted out of the vehicle and quickly hidden inside the second room. Packets of biscuits were then split open and shared, the village children sharing the spoils with us all.

The whimper of the baby drew everyone's attention, her fussing resulting in her being put on the breast. Eric's siblings gathered around their mother, sitting on the mud floor slurping happily on the soda we had brought. We exchanged words with the help of a translator, the pauses in conversation allowing me to reach out to Eric, to run my hands across his razored scalp, pat his shoulder and engage in communication that required no words.

As our time drew to a close, Eric's father offered a few words. "Thank you for looking after Eric and all of us". His words broke me, tears welled up blurring my vision. I took a breath. My heart was breaking. This was messing me up. I expected to feel happy, but a deep sadness was filling every part of me. Their need was so great, their living so rudimentary. I get to leave, to go back to my life, but this, this was their reality. I hugged each of them in turn, trying to covey a message that the language barrier couldn't express. I had to leave this boy in the land of a thousand hills, had to say goodbye after only just meeting. Not enough time to say all the things that needed saying, not enough time!

One Word

Compassion has challenged bloggers to choose one word to embody 2014, one word that embodies the promise of the upcoming year. One word in concrete form, one word full of possibilities, one word to substantiate a life and then blog about it.

I think about that one word and this boy, our boy in Rwanda. I think back to when we picked his little face out from the sea of faces before us.

Happy.

There's a word. We were happy to embrace this boy into our life. Me, a newly single mother, full of hope for a better future too. I was happy to make a small difference. I didn't see the difficult years stretching ahead of us, didn't expect them to overshadow that happiness. I think about how sometimes it was a struggle, how working part time and scratching out an existence was harder than I expected with two young children by my side. I think about the late payments made.

Sorry.

There's another word. I'm sorry for that. I made it though, kept those payments going. Glad too that I did. Things are different now, easier. I think about this Christmas and wish I could see your face. I know you will be laughing. I can just imagine it. There's a present on its way, just for you Eric. I'm hopeful Eric. Real hopeful, that one day I will visit you, hold you in the flesh and see you face to face. Have hope Eric.

Hope.

 * ~//~ *

I keep thinking about that one word that will frame my world, there are so many words that I could hold up as a banner over all that I am hoping and believing for in 2014. Words like, Faith - Courage - Breadth - Depth and Purpose to name just a few. Words that boldly declare my hopes and dreams, words that shout loudly from the mountain top of a restless soul, and words whispered quietly through cracks of fear.

I need this:

Faith - to hold close to my convictions with unshakeable confidence, because sometimes the years seem to merge so quickly that they are swallowed up in the daily ritual of treading water, afloat - somewhere, but not really going anywhere. 

It's hard to see perspective when vision is distant, when dreams feel remote!

I must embrace this:

Courage - to face difficulty, to keep rising up when fear would keep me contained, because if I think about all the things that stand in the way I wouldn't go any further. 

The glass ceiling of motherhood on your own is imposing, invisible forces frustrating!

I long for this: 

Breadth - to live free from narrowness or restraint, to reach out with greater capacity, because I want to embrace the wide open spaces of this life, make every breath count. Dream impossible dreams and hinge them closely to my heart, hang them around my soul.

Suffocating in a world where negativity is breathed like oxygen, overwhelming!

Have to grasp this:

Depth - to go beyond one's capability, to surpass previous understandings, push past cold hard facts. To disentangle the opposing dogma of a risen truth verses a fallen reality. 

Not easy when the head and the heart conflict, when what seems logical makes no sense at all. When living safe means a dream might wither, pointless then!

Must do this:

Purpose - to resolve to do something, to intentionally determine a goal (a mission, an objective ... a line drawn in the sand) with resoluteness, then freely emancipate this life to that calling.

Harder than imagined!

When I think about all of these things, THERE IS one word, one word that gives tangible expression to all of this - expand! I let it rest there, hovering above me, pushing back shadows, dusting off dreams - again! I breathe deeper, breathe more fully. I like this word. A lot!

Expand. 

~ to increase or grow in extent, to distend beyond the point of natural expansion.

~ to stretch out and unfold, to spread out in every direction.

~ to express something more fully or in greater detail, to express oneself more fully.

Substantiate life with unfurling!

The truth is, I need to unfurl my life ... let it unravel a little, walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. I'm hoping for all this!

Image Source

Compassion Assignment no. 3

I am participating in blog month at Compassion. Assignment no. 3 requires bloggers to tell a story behind a Compassion image. Here is that story.

The sound of gentle breathing hummed in the humid air. Red dust particles wafted lazily through the opening in the mud wall. A goat was bleating in the distance. Nzuri anxiously wondered if her eldest son had finished milking the neighbour’s goat. Gratitude filled her heart and she murmured a prayer of thankfulness, relieved that her son had acquired this particular chore and hoped the small offering of maize tucked carefully into a raffia bowl would be received with delight. Nzuri adjusted the wadding of material that firmly held her napping babe in place across her slender back, and gingerly kneeled on the worn spot in the center of her hut. Tightening the cocoon of the sleeping infant, she continued her Chapati ritual. Pounding out the lump of unleavened dough, Nzuri intentionally eyed the two little faces sitting cross-legged on the earthen floor before her. Lifting her finger to her lips she encouraged their silent vigil as they eagerly watched her knead the dough into shape. Her rhythmical motions rocked the baby snuggled tightly against her, contented snoring filled every space of the simple hut. As she kneaded, she allowed her thoughts to wander aimlessly, exploring every nook and cranny of her mind. Fears came unbidden, opening old worries, and forming new ones. She wondered if there would be enough milk to sustain this babe longer than the last. Dared she hope for her own goat! Perhaps this year would be different. Her thoughts shifted to her Compassion sponsor, and her eyes rested on the rumpled photo wedged into a crevice high in the mud wall. Immediately the worries vanished, her heart settled once again. Nzuri smiled confidently at her children. “Soon my little ones, the Chapati will be ready soon”, she breathed to the expectant faces sitting before her.

Blogging for Compassion

It's blog month over at Compassion during the month of September. I signed up as a Compassion blogger last month on the spur of the moment, thinking that this would be a great opportunity to get involved in a mission I wholeheartedly believe in. Then I missed the first assignment, being so busy and all! ... now it is week two and I'm still trying to find the time to do this assignment. I keep re reading the suggestions for writing, going over and over the prompt words, hope - poverty - silence - sacrifice ... and wait patiently for the moment that something inspirational begins forming in my mind, yet the something profound I am searching for escapes me. I have been staring at the words on the screen for some time now, waiting patiently at first, and then with a certain amount of angst. Because, the truth is - these words rest heavy on my soul. How can I give justice to these particular words? It is easy to write down a few good lines, throw together a bunch of great ideas, pull a few heart strings and push the button that says 'publish post'. Voila, done!

However,

I long for each thought to be carefully measured with purpose and significance. 

I desire to afford each word appropriate truth and dignity. 

The weight of responsibility makes me pause. 

Hope

Poverty

Silence

Sacrifice

Which word should I choose? The lives on the other side of my words, the children behind this project, cause me to catch my breath. My heart is moved, I wonder if I can make a difference by just punching out a string of words on my computer? There are lives out there waiting, a hurting and suffering world so full that I wonder if what I have to say can change anything! I think about our little boy living in Rwanda, where water is scarce and sanitation poor. A child of a subsistence farming community growing what little crops they can for their own consumption. I can't imagine his life, not really. Born into a country devastated by a genocidal mass slaughter, a country still struggling to rebuild itself nineteen years later is so very far beyond my understanding. How can I shed light on this situation? What can I say that hasn't already been said? 

and then by its own volition, 

the word 'silence' finally speaks to me, 

each letter lifts from the page, 

hangs surreptitiously in the air, 

pulsating frantically before me.

The word slides through my mind, s-i-l-e-n-t. I test it out, speaking it aloud, pronouncing the 't' with particular emphasis. I think about how I nearly let this opportunity pass, how I almost put my laptop away and became reticent with my plans. I ponder how easy it is to be silent when we lack the eloquence to speak up or put our thoughts forth with clarity and certainty. It has stopped me before, this not quite being able to carefully articulate what is deep in my heart.

It is easy to hold back, to refrain from being just another voice in a world saturated by a never ending parade of LOUD voices. There are so many voices competing for our time and attention. The din can be overwhelming. How do you filter out the voices that don't matter, and focus on the ones that do? Our words matter. Our voices matter. I press in closer, lean into that quiet still voice, the one that guides me along still waters. It takes me out to green pastures, calls me forward and leads me on. I see the path I need to take,

and I realise I cannot be silent. Not today, not ever!

Sponsor a child today.

Join Compassion bloggers here.

Heart and Soul Pursuits

Compassion - Developing, discipling and equipping children for life.

                                               Changing a life one day at a time.

Eric Nsabyimana

Colour Conference 2010

This week we received an update from Compassion about our little boy Eric Nsabyimana. I love the work that Compassion does in releasing children from poverty and exploitation.  At the Colour Conference this year there were a number of graphic illustrations and displays depicting the hopelessness that so many children face on a daily basis (picture above).  Powerful reminders that for so many, childhood is a rare gift indeed. It is hard to imagine that childhood can be robbed from such little lives. It is easy to feel overwhelmed and wonder if our small response will make a difference, especially when we seem so removed from these experiences and know that we may never see how our little can mean so much.  It is a privilege to partner with such an amazing organisation bringing hope to so many.


I'll never forget the day 3 1/2 years ago when we decided to choose Eric and in doing so change his whole world. I had only 6 months before become a single mother, yet I felt compelled to open my heart and extend the hand of kindness beyond our own little family. I knew that we could build someone else's home and in doing so that God would continue to build ours. Together the children and I scanned the sea of faces spread out on the table. So many needing help! How do you choose only one? Eventually we decided that Eric was the one. I can still remember the excitement on my kids faces knowing that we were about to do something significant.


When we saw his latest photo this week we were all so proud. He was so cute in his little work boots. In the humdrum of life it is easy to forget that another family is depending on us to be the change and when a budget is tight, it is satisfying to know that our stretch is their gain. This week I took the opportunity to thank my kids for continuing to open their hearts to humanity. I thanked them for the times that they have had to go without. They were truly humbled, for in the scheme of things ... we are so truly blessed.


Eric is now in level 1 of primary school in the hillside country of Matare in Rwanda. His duties include carrying water and gathering firewood (a fact that my kids found interesting ... cleaning a room doesn't sound so bad after all). There are 5 children in the family and I love that we are taking care of all of them by providing for him. It is incredible to think that sponsorship provides bible teaching, health screening, hygiene and nutrition, recreational activities, field trips, school supplies, tutoring, home visitation and domestic supplies. One day we hope to meet all of them. For now just knowing that we are changing the lives of a family we have never met is just ... well ... seriously, so amazing.