The Letter: We.

I had a rough day today. I've had worse. But, my goodness, I have had so many better days, too.

This made picking up the mail and finding this envelope that much sweeter.

I have received correspondence from a combination of 5 Compassion students since 2008. That's a lot of letters! Off the top of my head, I can think of 3-4 letters that have truly threatened to make me cry for one reason or another. And it has been a while since those times.

So it surprised me, when I read through 9 year old Alex's brief letter-penned for him by his older brother-when my lower lip trembled a little at the end of it.

 

You see, Alex lives with his Grandmother and his 6 siblings in Haiti. He is the youngest, and every letter, one of his older siblings does the writing for him. 

So, for the first time in my Compassion experience, sponsorship has been an extremely strong family affair.

The rest of his letter is phrased, "He greets you"  "He thanks you" "He..."  He.

And then...

We love you so much.

We. 

All 8 of them.

 

That's a lot of love to feel rain down on a soul, especially at the end of a rough day.

 Especially from people I have never met. I don't even know what his family looks like.

I could tell you about all the good I can do for someone living in poverty, how easy and inexpensive  it is to help someone who needs it. I could tell you that you should consider reaching into someone else's life to help make it better.

But not today. 

Today, I am going to be selfish.

 Today, I am telling you about a little boy and his family, who wrote a letter to someone who needed it. About a little boy who reached into someone's else's life and helped make it better without even realizing it. A little boy whose Christmas money was spent on a pair of shoes, but could still afford to to improve my life.

Sponsorship shouldn't be about what I get out of it, 

but today I am going to share a little truth: 

sometimes they're the ones sponsoring me.

Today's smile was brought to you by "The Letter: We."

 

Out of reach

He's gone.
Well, not really.
He's still out there. He still exists.

Alok circa age 5-6

I'm just not his sponsor any more. Alok's project was closed, due to issues that did not align with Compassion's policies. He is out of my reach. The little reach that I had.

During the waiting period after finding out that it was likely to happen, I wrote Alok many "last letters" saying things that I wanted to make sure someone would tell him at least one more time in his life.

He may stay a little boy forever in my mind, but it would make me happiest to believe he grew up, that those few years he had were enough to direct him into a lifetime of growing up.


His pictures are still displayed on my wall. It makes me sad to think that there will be no more infrequent letters to update me on his life, no new picture in a year, showing his awkward growth spurt, and his determined face, and he will no longer receive letters telling him how much I love his determination, how handsome he is, or Christmas or birthday presents. Losing Alok is something I have been preparing myself to handle for a while now, but there are those pangs of sadness, those moments when I find the perfect little gift for him, or start mentally writing him a letter.

But he is not dead. It is weird, mourning the loss of someone who is still alive. Probably, to many minds, weirder still to mourn the loss of someone who has never been mine to lose. It's not something I really could explain anyway. I have no rights to him, no ability to protect him, but from the first day his picture appeared on my account, he has always been "my boy" complete with scuffed knees, and brief letters.

He was the first child to ever call me Auntie. He did so on a video that a fellow sponsor took of him when she was in India and took him to a science museum.

He was so thrilled by the museum. Alok was entranced by the aquarium. Every time I visit a museum, I wish he was there with me.

He once told me that his favorite thing about being at the Compassion project was the food, the games, and that no one beat him there. It relieved and broke my heart all at once.

The first real smile I got from him in a picture was with the second soccer ball he got as a gift from me. Ever since then, I've had this mental picture of him tearing up the dirt after his soccer ball full speed and determination, getting coated in dirt, earning those knee scuffs.

I'll miss my boy. I miss him already. I keep praying for him. I pray that God will wrap around him tightly, and protect him. I pray that Alok will passionately love and serve God. I pray that he will treat women with kindness and respect. I pray that he will not be taken in by the alcohol addictions so rampant in his area. I pray that God will protect him and comfort him beyond any beatings he may still endure.

He is out of my reach, but never out of God's. That is one of the hardest things to remember about life in general. It's easier to remember when it is the only option to accept.






Alok, never forget that you are valuable. God values you. I value you. You are loved and so very loveable. I pray that there are so many more in your life who feel the same way.











 Play hard, my boy. Grow up strong, Alok.

Grow up kind and godly. Grow up wise and filled with integrity. Grow up compassionate and inspired.

Most of all, keep growing up.

Thank you for your sponsorship of Alok Nath

"Our staff in East India recently indicated that the child development center Alok attends has not been able to meet all of Compassion's standards for ministering to children in need. We've been working to address these issues over the last 90 days, but have yet to come to a resolve. However, we are hopeful that we will come to a resolution in the next 60 days."
From the moment I read the "Thank you for your sponsorship of Alok"  my heart creaked, crackled, and warned of breakage. Some of you may remember that I have known in my spirit that Alok's center has been at risk for a long time. Recently, they were showing strides of improving, more recently, however I noticed they seemed to be falling back to old habits a little more.
I want Compassion to be careful with our money, I want them to insure that only projects that are running properly are being allow to stay in Compassion. If they close Alok's project, I know that it was not for lack of trying to save it first, and I think that is the best action, if it comes to that.

However.

My Alok.

My sweet boy.

The one who has a smile, but rarely uses it.

Who plays soccer, and studies hard.

The boy my heart wraps around.

My most difficult sponsorship yet.

What will he do? Where will he go? The project is so remote, if it closes, I doubt he can be transferred to a new one.

I pray they can get staff who are willing to lead the project Compassion's way, with God and love as their fuel and fire. I pray that no matter what, God will shelter Alok Nath.

             I received this beautiful smiling picture of Alok a few months ago, I had been waiting to share it until I could write a blog about it.

I need to write a preemptive farewell letter to Alok, now, just in case.

If it closes, Alok and I will be on the opposite sides of the world, sharing broken hearts.

My Favorite Frown

(this post was originally written May 20, 2011, but I had written it on OurCompassion.org and I really wanted to have this on my blog, to keep Alok's story fluid)

A while ago, I sent 2 "just because" presents on the same day, one for Abigail in Ghana, and one for Alok in East India.  For those who don't remember, Ghana is really fast about responding.  Today, I got a thank you letter and a photo for the gift from one of the kids.  At the first instant, my brain could not reconcile why a picture of Alok had been attached to Abigail's letter, and then it all clicked to together, and I realized, Alok's thank you note actually beat Abigail's!  Amazing!
I sent the gift with a note that a small portion should be used to buy Alok something that would delight him, and I gave a few suggestions of ideas. Can anyone guess which item he chose for his fun item?  It shouldn't be hard!

"Thank you so much for you precious and beautiful gift. I was so happy when I got it. By your gift money I have bought... one pairs of pants and a shirt, sneakers, sweats, and one football."

Which item do we think he considers "precious" and "beautiful"? Is there any doubt? (Notice, there's still an opaque plastic bag, but this time, it's underneath the items, instead of vice versa! I'm fine with that.  Also, just look at how gangly he's getting! My square little 5 year old is growing up into a gangly 8 year old!)

Yes, his face is still frowning. It's a rare picture of Alok that catches him smiling. Honestly, I have come to love that frown of his, because he is such a serious little one.  This photo is my favorite frown however, because I know that later his brow will be furrowed with determination, and dripping with sweat, as he takes his beautiful new football out and plays every boy in the neighborhood. Later, when he clambers home as the sun sets, stinky, dusty and satisfied, he'll tuck that ball safely away near his sleeping mat before going to bed, and the ball will remind him, "My auntie loves me." 

And to me, having Alok know he is loved is better than any smiling photo.


(Addition: A several months later, a picture arrived of him with his soccer ball and a grin. Bonus!)

Grins look good on him, too

Big, Tangible Dream

Have you ever read The Tale Of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo? If you haven't then rush out, find a copy and read it. It's a really good story. I don't want to hear you whine about how it's a written for 4th and 5th graders, and you're much too grown up to be caught reading a childrens book. It's worth it.

Believe it or not, this post isn't actually about books. It's just that when I was thinking about typing this post, a passage from the book came to mind. There's a woebegone character in the book named Miggery Sow, and she has a truly awful story. She spends the entire book being told, "Nobody cares what you want, Mig!" She spends her entire story life waiting for someone to care about what she wants.

Human beings are driven to dream. It's more than just a lust to have or do more. People without dreams die. If we couldn't allow ourselves to ever dream, we couldn't allow ourselves to be loved by God.

The reason Miggery comes to mind was because I was thinking about something I want. Something I REALLY want. For some reason, this brought Miggery Sow to mind, and it occurred to me how awful it would be to have to live like Miggery Sow: a life where no one cares about your dreams, and should you ever dare to dream, you are punished, scoffed, and beaten rather than encouraged.
 
Personally, I have always been a rampant dreamer. Big dreams, little dreams, fickle dreams, heartfelt dreams, heart wrenching dreams, I entertain them all.

I have been fortunate to be allowed to live the opposite life of Miggery Sow. I have people in my life who listen to my dreams and say, "So, how are you going to get there?" and "You can do that." and "Let me help." You, blogfriend, are probably thinking of at least one person who has done this for you, too.

The hard part about writing this blog is that Miggery Sow's story is true. She's a million true stories. Not in the book. No, it's a fictional book. What I mean to say is, as I thought about my dreams, and then Miggery Sow,

I realized that there are so many people who live Miggery Sow's life: a life so harsh that nobody cares what they want, nobody encourages dreaming, and any dreaming that slips out gets squashed immediately.

Honestly, I had started this post to go in to depth about what I've been dreaming:

This is Magarette, nickname "Liline." She is 13, and I have been sponsoring her since she was 9. She lives in Haiti. Ever since the day I sponsored her, I have wanted to go to Haiti to meet her, and every year, the desire intensifies.

That's the big want I was going to blog about, but I think, now that it's written down, the better focus of this blog is on the people who don't get to spout their dreams freely.

 Liline dreams.

She has people encouraging her to do so(I know, I get to be one of them). Liline dreams about going to college and becoming a teacher. Liline dreams about her sponsor coming to meet her, and feeding her sponsor corn, and having her sister sing for her sponsor. Don't worry about Liline. She dreams well. Liline has parents who care. Liline has Compassion International. Liline has a sponsor who cares, too. Most importantly, Liline knows that God cares.

Part of the reason Liline can dream, though is because Compassion International works in her area. They work with her parents to help provide her with an education, and they spend time with Liline, encouraging her, daring her to dream, and prodding her to achieve those dreams.

It is a combined effort. Compassion weeds, tills and nourishes the dirt, plants the seeds, and then the sponsor gets to help by adding a little water. The sponsor gets to come along after the hard work is done and confirm what Compassion has been trying to get across by saying, "It's true: you are worthwhile. Your dreams do matter."

Liline is taken care of. Don't worry about her.

However, there are many children waiting for someone's encouragement to dream, and some of those children don't have parents who understand the need for encouragement or the importance of dreams, because they have never been allowed dreams for themselves. And then some of those children don't have parents.

People need to be able to dream, because if they can't dream, then they can't come anywhere near imagining that there is a God who loves them, who cares about their dreams. Who sacrificed himself for them.



I don't want this to sound like a sales pitch. I hate those. Sales pitches are followed by buyer's remorse. I don't want that to happen here.

I just want to ask you:

Would you like to help grow a dreamer?

Because if you do, Compassion International is a great way to do it.

All it takes is $38 dollars a month, and some ink on paper.

The money helps pay for Compassion's work with the children, and if you really want to encourage a child to dream then a write letter every month or so (the ink on paper) to the child.

The letters are where the real growth happens, because if you write those letters, then every time that child is told in some way,

"You are worthless. Nobody cares about your hopes!"

that child has a letter in his pocket from his sponsor that says, "Don't listen to those lies. I care. You are valuable. Tell me about your dreams. You can do it."

It doesn't seem like it requires much for such a big promise, does it?



If Miggery Sow had a sponsor, her story might have turned out differently. Some one could have told her, "Your dreams are tangible! Keep dreaming!"



Miggery Sow is a fictional character.






But these kids aren't fictional, and neither are their dreams.






Thanks for reading.

The child I didn't choose

Let me tell you the basic story of Alok Nath.  By March 2009, I had been sponsoring Liline for 6 months.  Sponsoring her made me more aware of some of the more frivolous choices I made with my money.  For example, everyday, on my way to the office, I bought a coffee from my favorite place, The Filling Station. I was surprised to realize that amount of money tallied by month could easily sponsor another child.  This bothered me.  I had thought about it for a few months before March had come. There were times when I wanted to blow these thoughts off. I like coffee. I hate working in offices, clearly that makes coffee mandatory, right? Other times I thought, well, I'll just stop drinking coffee, but then, that money I was spending, but had stopped spending was still being just as useless. I tried looking for a child to sponsor, but the second time through, I was just overwhelmed by the number of kids needing sponsors, and there did not seem to be a child who stood out to me.  Finally, I called and told Compassion International to give me the kid who needed a sponsor most. And then waited... I don't know how long I waited. I think it was just a day. However long it was in hours, I am pretty sure the minutes could have been measured in years before a new child finally showed up on my Compassion account.  I actually called Mom on my break and asked her to check my account for me, because there was no personal internet access at work, and I was not about to provide an opportunity for job loss.  She said there was a new child there. He is 5 and from India: Alok Nath...  While I am glad for Mom's willingness to read off the information to me, I think it made the rest of my work day longer.  On the drive home I stopped at my family's house, because it was a 5 mile shorter drive to a computer than going all the way to my house!  I quickly pulled up my account, and there was Alok Nath:

 

When I had tried to pick a child, I had probably scanned past his photo multiple times.  Honestly, he was not a child who would have caught my eye, first, because he was 5.  I generally leave the cute young ones to the other sponsors.  I was excited to get to know my little man though, and had to adjust my writing for a 5 year old.

Scan forward to 7 months later. I had still not received a first letter from Alok. Having sponsored Liline for a year by this point, I knew that this was not normal. I called Compassion, and they sent an inquiry into the field. A month later, I received a jotted down version of a first letter from the project. I was not impressed, but I was hoping that it was just that someone had misplaced paperwork and were quickly covering their mistake.

Little did I know that Alok was going to be my "trouble child."  Giving up the daily coffee was nothing compared to waiting so many months for each letter to appear, and with each letter, the information was so vague and contradicting.  I knew that it was not Alok's fault, because he is just a child, he doesn't even write his own letters yet. It was the fault of the adults in charge. Something was wrong with his project.  This, my friends, is not the normal way Compassion International is run, that is why I knew in my gut, something was wrong. 

By the time a year had passed, I had sent Alok several financial gifts. According to Compassion rules, a sponsor should hear about the use of every gift they send. I had heard nothing.  Finally, I called Compassion again and made my concerns known.  Compassion agreed with my concerns and sent and inquiry into the field.  A few months later, I received photographs of a few of the past gifts I had sent.  Another rule about gifts is that every gift purchased with sponsor money must have a photo on file with the child in the photo to verify that the money is being used as it is supposed to. (though, a sponsor does not have to receive a photo) The items must be easily identified in the photo.

Again, my gut said, "Something is not right."  Can you see the clothing that Alok bought with his birthday present? Me neither.  All 3 of the photos of gifts that I was sent in response to my inquiry were packed this way, in opaque bags, or unlabeled cardboard boxes, all claiming to be clothing I cannot see.  I think the photos were staged.

At this point many of you are wondering, why are you still sponsoring through Compassion?!  I need to clarify.  I have been sponsoring through Compassion International for three years now.  Compassion is an honest charity that works hard to prove financial integrity, and puts many checks and balances in to make sure the projects are following their regulations.  I sponsor three kids.  Alok's situation was an anomaly. You may wonder why I did not drop Alok's sponsorship. Trust me, I thought about it.  Then, I also thought about the fact that Alok is just a (at this point in the story) 6 year old boy. He is not the one making bad decisions.  I realized that Alok, out of my 3 children, was the child who needed a sponsor the most.  The other two had dependable projects they could turn to.  It seemed that right now it was possible that Alok only had me as an advocate, and I could not bring myself to walk away from him.  Somehow, without any real input on his part, I realized that I love Alok.  Because of the correspondence relationship between sponsor and child, the sponsor is the first one to see warning signs.  

This was when I became that annoying sponsor.  I called Compassion about the photos, and explained that they were not right, that there is clearly something wrong with this project.  The response I got over the phone was an instant fix, and all the problems were solved.  Not quite. I was quite frustrated after the call. I did not feel that the Compassion representatives understood the seriousness of the situation I was placing before them. 

Then, later I heard through the grapevine that a prayer request had gone out from somewhere inside the works of Compassion for two East Indian projects that were having a hard time finding "committed staff" and I knew in my heart(at least I really hoped), one of those projects was Alok's.  

Then, I received another photo, this one of the most recent gift I had bought Alok's family.  Opening the envelope, I had no real expectations of satisfaction. And then:

a murmur of hope stirred in my heart. Previously, every gift I had sent to Alok had been claimed to have been spent on clothing, no matter what the amount, and you saw one of the photos of "proof" of clothing.  This photo, however, is not clothing! It is a watering pump for the family's crops! And it is not in an opaque plastic bag or wrong sized cardboard box. And that is Alok's family, smiling.  I thought, maybe something is turning around in this project. Maybe it won't close soon. Maybe there is hope for Alok's future.

March 2011, Alok is 7 years old, and it was almost exactly 2 years after I sponsored him. I received a letter written on "My first letter" stationary.  The information written on that letter is not vague like the correspondence of the past 2 years, it is detailed to the individual: family members' names and ages, his favorite color is green and his favorite food is rice dal.  The prayer request dictated to the helper writing for Alok was this: Please pray for my family, and also pray for me so that I can complete my studies.  

And suddenly, I wondered, during all this time I was worrying about whether the project was running correctly, was my little Alok seeing the misuse of funds and realizing his chance at an educated future--a future with more opportunities than his parents could have dreamed to want--was slipping through careless fingers?  As alarming as it was to be on my side of this "project reform" it must have felt despairing to Alok, who was seeing it in person.

I was really hoping this second first letter as the new project staff's way of saying "let's wipe this slate clean, and do it right."

April 11, 2011, I found another letter from Alok.  I need to make sure that you have not missed this in this long history of 2 years: I only receive a letter from Alok once every 4 months, if we are lucky.  These two most recent letters, however are less that a month apart!  

The letter was from a person who was listening to Alok tell them what to write. I know this because last year, an acquaintance of mine went to East India to meet her sponsored child, and offered to meet Alok as well.

She took him to a science museum, and bought him lunch and gave him gifts I had sent with her, and returned to me with stories, video and photos of the day.  The letter I received from Alok yesterday was detailing Alok's opinion of the trip! He really enjoyed it, but he did not like the Pepsi, but he also feels sorry that he threw the Pepsi away. He had seen trains before, but he had never been able to ride one(He had to ride a train from his village to the city where he was meeting my friend).

I really feel like Compassion International has really managed to turn this project around.  I am glad of this.  I am not willing to say we are out of the woods just yet, because I know Compassion's process with below standard projects. First the project is warned, and then checked on again, if the issue is not fixed, they try retraining the project, getting new staff, whatever it takes to make the project live up to the integrity of Compassion's name.  After many attempts, if the project is still failing whether due to lack of cooperation or lack of ability, the project is then closed. Compassion will try to move the kids into neighboring projects if there are any nearby, so that the children will not lose the benefits.

I am hoping and praying that Alok's project really has turned around, not only so the project will not close, but so that Alok can truly receive the benefits of being sponsored.  Throughout the two years I have had with this boy, he is the child that I have been able to establish the least relationship with. Relationship is hard when communication is one way, but he is also the child who has gained a majority of my prayers, and the child my heart has wrapped itself tightly around.  It is strange,  I know that my girls are close to my heart as well. I even know that they are embraced much the same way Alok is, but because I have felt that Alok has needed it more in his silence, he has taken possession of a portion of my heart that neither of the girls have needed.

I love this boy that I never would have picked. I hope and pray he does far more than complete his studies!

Note: I just wanted to add this in- It may seem that there are a lot of negative things in this blog. This is not the ordinary experience with Compassion International, in fact, in the full length of this post, it is positive light on Compassion, as I am able to witness the work they put into taking care of children and making sure the projects are being honorable in this mission. Compassion International is a very worthwhile organization, and if you are wanting to help a child receive the basics of life so that they have the opportunity to break the cycle of poverty, this is the organization for you!

Overdue but done: Literacy, 3

Here is the overdue literacy update!  I met my goal in time, however, I just didn't manage to sit down and write the blog about it, until now.

I had hoped I would have more to report for March. I had hoped it would be my first 4 book month of the year, but as it turned out, I am easily distracted. The book I thought would be my fourth got interrupted when I found a copy of Lovely Bones in my friend's house while snowed in. At the time, I thought I would be spending an entire week or more snowed into her house, and so I reasoned that it would be better for me to read Lovely Bones and then go back to my book, so that when it was time to leave, the book that I needed to take with me would be my own...however, we got evacuated 16 chapters into Lovely Bones, and I left it at her house.  So, sometime in the near future, I will be pursuing another copy of Lovely Bones.  Despite this, I did meet both my hard set goal-at least 1 new book a month- and my ideal goal- at least 2 books a month.

Unshaken: Rising from the ruins of Haiti's Hotel Montana by Dan Woolley and Jennifer Schuchmann was the first book to be taken down in March. Dan Woolley was one of the Americans working for Compassion International who got caught in the Haiti earthquake.  He and his photography partner had just walked into their hotel lobby, after an entire day traveling around Haiti, when the earthquake hit, and the 6 story hotel collapsed on them.  Dan found himself alone, and locked in a prison of shambles.  He made the decision to crawl into the open elevator, which very likely saved his life, however, shortly after making it into the elevator, an aftershock hit, and rubble closed him into the elevator, making his safe haven a prison at the same time.  Dan spent 65 hours under the hotel, and the book details his survival, but the majority, and best part of the book details what went through his mind, what battered his soul, and what led him up to this point in his life.  The book flashes between Dan in the elevator, and Dan's young marriage some ten or twelve years before, and dealing with his wife's sudden onset of severe depression.  My Mom posted after reading this book, "Besides being a good read about surviving being trapped in pitch dark for too long under a building it is also a very well written view into the life of depression. I think an especially good read for those who haven't lived it."

Amazingly, as intense and deep as this book can be, it does not feel heavy. There are some books I read that when I finish I am burdened with a lingering heaviness, an after taste of despair, because there was so much deep thought to muddle through.  Unshaken has that deep thought, but it did not leave me despaired, in fact, it left me energized with so many thoughts to think.  Believe it or not, though the book has its heart wrenching, thought provoking, seat gripping story to tell, it also has hope, and well placed humor.  Also, it is a quick read. Its thickness looks somewhat intimidating, but it moves fast.

So, would I recommend Unshaken to you? Most heartily, yes!  It is a great book, and though it is written by a Christian, I believe that even my non-Christian friends would enjoy this book.

After Unshaken, I took on Cane River by Lalita Tademy. I was excited, because I love historical fiction.  Sci-fi, modern day, political fiction, biographies, commentaries, mysteries are all great types of literature, however to me, reading one of those genres is like visiting some one else's house for the first time: it's fun, it's new, it's interesting, but it's not reflexively comfortable.  Reading historical fiction, on the other hand, is like going to Granny's house: a place to walk in, be hugged, kick off your shoes, find a couch with a sunspot warming it, grab a blanket and a bag of potato chips and belong.  Because of this comfort and haven I usually find in historic fiction, you must understand that Cane River disappointed me greatly. It was like being at a party, and realizing that while I had been invited, I wasn't really supposed to show up.  The book was boring and mechanical.  However, I have already written a full blog devoted to my disappointment in this book, and I did give a few positive points, so I will just conclude with this:  Would I recommend this book? Definitely, no.

After trudging through Cane River, I decided I deserved some candy reading, and I also realized that throughout this literacy challenge so far, I had not managed to visit some old favorites. This sent me straight to my parent's entryway bookshelf: the storage of all literature to ever be loved by anyone who has lived in that house.  What better reward for finishing a dull book than a Dahl book? 

The BFG by Roald Dahl has been a favorite of mine for almost as long as I can remember. When we were little, Mom used to pick a book and read them out loud to Jared and I.  I don't know if this was mainly done during the summer, but summer evenings are when I remember these reading times happening.  One of Mom's favorite authors is Roald Dahl, so usually, the book she picked was Roald Dahl.  I think that The BFG quickly became a favorite for Jared and me because it was so funny.  I mean, what kid between the ages of 6-11 would not love a book that has an entire chapter devoted to whizzpoppers? (For those of you who do not know, those are farts, and you need to go read The BFG, because that chapter still cracks me up, and you are being greatly deprived of happiness by not reading it.)  One thing I love about going back to read books from my childhood is that usually there were comments made about politics and life in general that were just plain hilarious, but I completely missed them when I was younger.  I guess perhaps the reason so many of my childhood reads are so enjoyable to the adult me is because often my books were picked/suggested by either my Mom or my Granny, and they like a good chuckle.
For those of you who don't know the plot, young Sophie could not sleep that night at the orphanage, and so she peeked out the window, and saw something she ought not. Soon she was kidnapped by a giant because of this, and the story goes from there, but I refuse to give away any more of the story than I already have!
Should you read The BFG? Yes. If you have never read this book, you need to break all speed limits (as safely and legally as possible) to your nearest book establishment and devour this book.  If you have read this book, but not in the past 5 years, should you reread it? I would suggest it!  In fact, you will likely see more Roald Dahl books popping up on this blog, because I have realized, I miss those books. I have already snagged Danny Champion of The World off my Mom's shelf for nearby future reading.

What is the reading forecast for April?
Well, I am about a hundred pages away from finishing Parrot & Olivier in America by Peter Carey.  I found it in Costco and couldn't resist(I do so love the Costco book section).
I have Danny Champion of the World by Roald Dahl on hand. I also just borrowed Out of the Ashes by Dr. Keith Phillips, which I am hoping to finish before this weekend, but we shall see about that.  Then there are the usual suspects that are hanging around my room, getting picked at, here an there.

That's pretty much it, for me. How is your reading?

Because mirrors should be nicer...

A few days ago, I posted about how, even though I try to do better, sometimes the mirror can best my self confidence.  As the band, SuperChic[k], put it, "Sometimes I have good days and it's good to be me. Sometimes I get the best of insecurity, and it's quite alright to be the one and only, but today I feel like the one and lonely."  I believe we all can understand that feeling from time to time.

I have been thinking about how many  battles I have had with the mirror, the goriest of which were done during my preteen and teenage years.  People often do not know about children's battles with the mirror, because the children fear that if they mention that something about themselves haunts them, someone might agree that it's true: they really are ugly, awkward, stupid, worthless.  We would all rather fear that it might be true than take the risk of asking, and having someone confirm our fears.

As many of you know, I sponsor some kids through Compassion International.  These kids are really important to me, and it may sound strange, being as I have never met them, but I love them.  When I first signed up to be a sponsor, I did not realize the opportunity I had been given, but it only took a short time for Liline to show me how much she looked up to me, just for choosing her.  I really don't deserve to be this considered  this cool, but for some reason, she places great import in everything I say.  Because of this, I try to see areas where I can encourage my kids where the people in their daily lives may not be able to.

With my sponsored kids, I can't be there to pick them up, and brush the dust off of their knees, or put the bandaids on broken hearts.  I don't know what is being said to them daily.  I can't know when they are having good days or dark days, but I try to make sure that when they are having their dark days, they have a full stock of letters and reminders to scare off those beasts that lurk in their darkness.

So, one day, as I was perusing that dangerous place known as Michaels craft store, I came across these paper mirrors for a dollar a piece.

A light bulb came on, and I bought three, and a 20 pack of markers.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I find that when I am most discouraged or disgusted with myself, I will at least once glance in my mirror, as if to see if it really is as bad as I feel. The problem with this is that the mirror often has a sharp tongue, and rarely disagrees with the dark feelings.  We use a mirror every day, before we leave the house.  I am going to take advantage of this fact.

Because, it's about time mirrors started showing people some love.  Alok Nath, being in India, writes in a script that I can't even figure out which side is up, so I will have to tell him that word means "Handsome" and that is why I chose to cover the rest of it in hearts, so instead of reading it, he might be able to get the gist of love. (There is a protective plastic to protect the mirror. For a paper mirror, it has quite a good reflection under that plastic)

This one goes to Abigail, who lives in Ghana and speaks some English.  This one is not as artistic, but I wanted her to look at this mirror and think nothing but good about herself!  Especially "Loved"   It is my theory that most of our insecurities, and self abusive choices we make stem from our fear that we are not lovable.  In my mind, it is most important that we let the people that we love know it...often!

This last one is for Liline, whose given name is Magarette. She will be 13 this summer, so I thought she might like something a little more elegant than playful. She speaks Creole and is learning French in school, so I looked up some French for her. "God loves you"  "I love you" "Beautiful" "Intelligent"  and "Precious"  are what I chose for her.

I am really pleased with how these little projects turned out, plus I enjoyed the opportunity to color again!  It delights me to think that when they look into these and see themselves, they will also see things like "Beautiful"  "Smart"  and "Loved" and hopefully they will associate those things with themselves more often. I hope that they will be cheerful little candles for my "kids" on their dark days.

Because, quite frankly, it is about time for mirrors to learn their manners, and for us to stand up to them.  It is also time for those of us who are older, and have already seen the reflective battlefield too often to step in, help our younger loved ones to develop positive habits when looking at themselves, and show them how to put that reflector in its place.  It starts by us filling their reservoirs up with love, so that when they are feeling low and they turn to look at their reservoir, they see a lake and not a puddle.

A journey

It starts with a pair of eyes that drill into your soul and ask, "Do you love me?"


And so, you say "Yes."  And click that button and start writing this child.  And she writes back!



And you begin to fall in love with this kid you've never met.

Whose eyes and little shoulders tell of the weight of the world


You pray for her, and continue to write to her, and really start to appreciate her for the person she is.

And you watch her grow.



And just about the time you think you can't possibly love her any more than you do now...



...She smiles!


 

And you plummet even deeper in love with this little child God created.   You marvel at how this child can affect your life from across the ocean, and treasure how fortunate it is that it is you who gets to be a part of her life!

(Note: I wrote this a few months ago, but I liked this post, and this kid so much, and since it's Sunday, I thought I'd repost it here.  I sponsor Abigail through Compassion International. She is 9, and lives in Ghana. The pictures span in chronlogical order from 7-9.)