How to Change the World . . . . September 16, 2010

By kristen

I’m talking about how to teach your children (and yourself) how to change the world over here today. Plus, I’m giving away FIVE copies of my new FAVORITE children’s book!

The Mercy House FAQ . . . . September 15, 2010

By kristen
’ve laid a lot on y’all this week! Thanks for the love and support. It’s both humbled me to my knees and created instances of The Ugly Cry.
If you’re catching up————
——–Mercy Me-Part I
——–Mercy Me-Part II
——–Mercy Me-Part III (giveaways are still going on-will end/be announced next week)
Link to The Mercy House
Link to The Mercy Shop
Last year, I launched a parenting newsletter. I concluded the series on The Fruits of the Spirit and will now be redirecting the newsletter to updates and information for The Mercy House. If you’ve already subscribed, you don’t need to do anything. If you don’t want to receive this, you can unsubscribe  when you receive this announcement in your inbox.

I will be sending out the first Mercy House News tomorrow with updates on how much money/monthly supporters we have up-to-date. So make sure you subscribe if you want to know!
Questions:
Do you have any? Please leave a comment. I will try to answer them in the comment section.
Ideas for Fundraising, PR, donate items to The Mercy Shop…you name it:
We need it.
This isn’t about me or my family, this is about us, loving mercy, together.

A Bed, A Bag of Rice & A Business . . . . August 25, 2010

By kristen
His name is Francios (said in my best French accent which sorta sounds like fancy Texan).
He’s six:

He’s one of the Compassion children our family sponsors. He lives in Togo, Africa. In the last six months, he’s written us five letters!
God blessed our family with some extra and we were able to send Francios a family gift a couple of months ago. Compassion allows you to send a financial gift every year to your Compassion children.
Last week, when my daughter opened a Compassion envelope, she gasped. I could tell it wasn’t an ordinary (although always special) letter.  This photograph was accompanied with a letter of thanks from Francios’ family:

With our family gift (small by American standards), this precious family bought there first bed! (There are 5 in the family) They bought rice and supplies and most importantly, they started a business! (selling used clothes)
One of my favorite things about Compassion is they don’t just help people out of poverty, they give families the tools to help themselves. They meet with the family when a family gift is given and help them decide how to spend it best.
This financial gift -that we’ll never miss- might have changed Francios’ family.
But it changed mine more.
__________
Rescuing children from poverty is one of the most inspiring and beautiful experiences our family has ever shared together. It’s never too late to sponsor a child. You can do it today.

Make Yourself at Home . . . . July 29, 2010

By kristen
We showed up at the Student Life Camp as they were unloading for their 9th week of camp. It was really amazing watching these college kids empty four large Penske rental trucks and set up for more than 1,000 kids. When I complimented one of them, they said, “Oh this is a small camp. This is easy.”
Compassion had agreed to let us visit with Maureen and even though she was free to let others do her setup work, she asked our family if we minded hanging around while she performed her duties. (A true example of her heart and work ethic!)
We were happy to just watch and thrilled when they let us help. My hubby did a little drilling:

My kids helped with the packets of the children needing sponsors:

Everyone pitched in and constructed a replica home you might see in the slum, where Maureen grew up.

After she gives her compelling and touching testimony, she stands in the doorway of this mock home and answers questions.

People are moved at the image of this beautiful girl who has been rescued from poverty.
As I helped Maureen hang some “fact cards” on the interior walls of the home, she said, “This would be a nice home in the slums of Africa.” I remembered Vincent’s home and I silently nodded my head.
Once the home was completed, our family of five gathered inside. The average size of a family in Africa is usually at least five and I wanted my kids to see what it felt like to live in such a small space:

As I sat there with my family squeezed into the small, one-room dwelling, the nicest home on the block, I thanked God once again for His gentle reminder, this tangible example of perspective.
I’m pretty sure my family will never forget it.

When Jesus Isn’t Enough . . . . July 7, 2010

By kristen
When I sat in his closet-sized home in the middle of Africa, I couldn’t take my eyes off the pathetic interior or ignore the dripping rain on my head.
I tried to not to imagine the “community toilet” he shared with neighbors adjoined by paper-thin walls or how far he walked each way to school everyday, in the dark, both ways.
The peace on his face was undeniable and the light that radiated from his eyes filled the dark room of his orphan-led home.
I didn’t understand how he could be so content with so little. And I couldn’t stop the question, “Why are you so happy? Why aren’t you afraid?”
He looked at me as if I’d missed it entirely and said, “Because I have Jesus.”
He didn’t say anything else. It was a heavy statement. It was enough.
He was right, I had missed it. Entirely.
I equate Jesus to comfort and blessings. And when I sat in a hovel, a young boy called home, void of every comfort, I was envious of his contentment.
I returned to a lifestyle with every blessing, only wanting more.
I add Jesus like salt and pepper to a tasteless dish.
He isn’t the main course, just an extra on the side.
Jesus isn’t enough for me.
I think about my happiness that is clouded with every storm that blows into my life. I think about my happiness that is contingent upon what I have versus what I want. I think about my happiness and the strings I attach to it.

I think about a young boy who taught me more about Jesus and myself in a single sentence than my entire Bible College degree and 37 years of living.
One of the great lessons I learned in Africa: When Jesus isn’t enough, something is wrong.
I’m on a quest to make it all about Jesus. It’s easy surrounded by the comforts of my American life to melt back into the The American Way-bigger is better, more is what matters.
This is a painful journey, but more than anything, I want Him to be enough for me.
Is Jesus enough for you? If your happiness, like mine, is determined by how much or how little you have or the next exciting thing in your life, can I gently remind you to return to Him? He is waiting to be enough.

Rescued From Wealth . . . . April 23, 2010

By kristen

 

“I avoided coming to visit the poor for a long time. I was afraid my heart would be broken by their condition. Instead, today, I found my heart broken by my condition.”

-a quote from the book Too Small to Ignore,

by Wess Stafford,

President of Compassion International

Big Plans for Our Refrigerator . . . . March 26, 2010

By kristen
I have a good life.

Everything is orderly (hello, Type A) and has a place–from things that fill a space to abstract emotions and concrete thoughts–there are appropriate compartments.

It’s tidy and neat, just the way I like it.

But then I experienced Africa.

And nothing fits anymore.

Revamping your life is hard. It’s uncomfortable.

Our family has decided to shave off the fluff, to remove some of the extra from our lives.

So, we taught our kids how to clean toilets. Confession: For the past 2 years, we’ve had our house cleaned twice a month. (It was the best 2 years). I’ve worked for my Dad’s small business for several years, while at home with my kids. It’s only a few hours a week, but I used a bit of the money to get my house cleaned. Totally justifiable since I work from home. But totally uncomfortable since I’ve returned from Africa.

You can judge me if you want to.

My daughter gagged a bit as I showed her the toilet cleaning technique. Further proof that this was good for all of us. “Why are we doing this again?” she asked. “We can sponsor more children each month if we clean it ourselves.” (sidenote: Having your house cleaned twice a month doesn’t mean you don’t clean it yourselves. It only stayed “clean” for a precious 30 minutes!)

My children took this small change in stride. They didn’t complain as we tackled room after room.

When we got to the kitchen, I carefully removed the pictures of our sponsored kids from the refrigerator, so I could clean it. (While I was in Africa, my hubby and kids moved the Compassion pictures from the box I stored them in, to the fridge.)

It was a change I loved and decided to keep.

“Mom?” my daughter said, as she wiped down the countertops. “Do you know what my dream is?”

I stopped and listened. I knew this was going to be big.

“To fill our refrigerator with pictures of sponsored kids.”

I cried.

My kids get it. They really do.

(And then they told me what they wanted in their Easter baskets. So, they sort of get it.)

White Girls Can’t Dance . . . . March 22, 2010

By kristen 

In Africa, we only visited one village that wasn’t a Compassion project.

It was at the end of our trip, during our debriefing time, when we visited a very remote Maasai tribe. Entering the village was like stepping into the pages of National Geographic Magazine.

Branches and sticks circled the small village to keep wild animals away. Mud, manure and hardworking women turned huts into homes. These indigenous people survive only on the meat, milk and blood of their animals. I’ve never seen a more primitive way of life.

Although this village is remote, they allowed us to view their way of life because they wanted us to buy from them. As we entered the village, they insisted that the women in our group sing and dance with the Maasai wives. It was an honor we couldn’t refuse (especially since the man instructing us held a warrior club).

He led us to nine of the wives (one with a baby strapped to her back), many of whom looked like girls. They removed their heavy beaded necklaces and placed them over our heads.

Y’all, I don’t sing.

And I certainly do. not. dance. (Because snapping fingers and swaying does not a dancer make). But I also wasn’t feeling rebellious.

A low moan and foreign words came from the lips of the women as they bent and moved back and forth. It sounded something (or actually, nothing) like “Maaaaaaaaaa Woooooooooo Chuma Dago Soto (and then, I do not lie, they said) Hell, Yeah“

So, we bent and we sang some noises and we all ended each phrase with…

“Hell, Yeah.”

Totally inappropriate for a Compassion International trip.

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10265008&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1 Maasai Dancing from keely Scott on Vimeo.

But it worked.

WFMW: Letter Writing Tips . . . . March 17, 2010

By kristen 

One of the most unexpected and amazing parts of my trip to Africa was learning just how important a sponsor letter is to a child.

Every Compassion child I met had reread the letters from their sponsors until they were nearly memorized. The letters were prized-possessions.

If you’re a new sponsor, you will receive a packet with a little bit of information about your child, like the one I received right before I left for Africa:

(Ephantus in Kenya)

While in Kenya, I met a boy named Anthony, a recent graduate of the Leadership Development Program (LDP), who had been a sponsored child for more than 20 years:

Anthony is a young business owner whose smile could light up a room. He was joyful and kind, articulate and thankful to Compassion and his sponsor. But he had one regret: in all the years of rising out of poverty, he never received one letter from his sponsor. He said every Saturday he would long for his name to be called, so he could learn more about the family who had changed his life.

It never happened.

Anthony was still overcome with gratitude for his sponsor. “I prayed for him everyday,” he said in a quiet voice. “I still do.”

If you sponsor a child, I cannot urge you enough to start a relationship with them. It won’t just change their life, it will change yours.

Out of Africa . . . . March 14, 2010

By kristen 

I don’t know who I am.

It’s a startling realization to not recognize yourself: My own voice sounds hollow. My eyes hold a distant stare, remembering all I’ve seen in Africa this past week. My thoughts keep me awake at night.

Just days after I returned, I found my husband carefully watching me. “I don’t feel like I know you,” he said softly, beckoning.

“I don’t feel like I know me either,” I said.

And I cried.

I feel more than guilt for such an easy life, accessible food, clean water and abundance. I feel aware. The blinders are gone. I can’t pretend I don’t know how the poorest of the poor live. I can’t act like there aren’t children who go to bed hungry. I can’t ignore that 30,000 children die each day from preventable causes.

I can’t stop thinking about Vincent, living as an orphan and father, in squalor. When I close my eyes at night, his face is what I see. I see him in his “home” that’s not fit for an animal.

I see the joy of the Lord in his eyes. Peace. I see Jesus.

I think that is what is so hard. I cannot reconcile his lack of every basic need and such fullness in his heart and life. The two don’t mix.

In America, in my town, in my home and heart, I complain about a dirty house, yard work, needing a “break” from cooking or my children. Every basic need is met, PLUS more luxuries than I can count.

With so much, how can my joy be incomplete?

How is it that I can see true peace in one of the largest slums in the world, where the smell of death is prominent and it’s rare in the most blessed nation?

I’m not sure how to mix these worlds together; how to show my spouse all that I’ve seen and all that my heart holds, or parent my kids without guilt.

I don’t know how to find myself again. I don’t know how to return to my everyday life when children still need to be sponsored. But I’m trying.

I am so thankful for this place, although foreign and uncomfortable, I’m not alone. God is right here with me, leading me into new places.

I may be out of Africa, but it will never be out of me.

——————————————–

I’ll be privately reflecting this week, but will still be hosting Works For Me Wednesday this week and also The World’s Largest Nerf Party this Friday (giveaways, included! There’s still time to have a party with your kids to celebrate Mason’s defeat of cancer!).

Kenya: Day 7: It’s Time to Leave Africa . . . . March 11, 2010

By kristen 

My duffle bag is packed, waiting by the hotel door.

In just a few hours, I’ll be leaving Kenya, flying thru the night to Amsterdam.

We had a debriefing meeting with the Compassion blog team last night and we cried as we started decompressing and processing all that we’ve seen.

Our leader, Shaun Groves, told us a story about a man named Everett Swanson. In the 1950′s, he was visiting a friend in Korea immediately after the Korean war. There were thousands and thousands of orphans left without parents and homes during this country’s devastating time.

Everett Swanson saw children piled up in the doorways of homes, trying to stay warm. They were abused by the guards who tried to scatter them because they were a nuisance. Everett watched as a guard picked up a child by the wrist and ankles and threw them into the back of a truck.

He said to his friend, “No one, no matter how small, should be treated this way.”

And he wept for the children.

His friend looked at him and said, “Now that you’ve seen, what will you do?”

Now that you’ve seen, what will you do?

Now that you’ve seen, what will you do?

Everett Swanson returned to the United States and started Compassion International.

Compassion is now reaching one million of the poorest children in 25 countries.

I’m going to be honest with you: I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to return to my normal life. I don’t know how to take what I’ve seen and experienced, smelled and touched and live the same way in my perfect little bubble.

Now that I’ve seen the face of a Maasai woman with my own name and learned of her hardships, walked thru the dark alley of hell, called Mathare Valley, touched the face of an orphan named Susan, learned that one of my own sponsored kids is living in dire poverty with a crippled father, watched an angel dance, I have to answer the question that burns in my heart and keeps me awake throughout the night….

What will I do?

—————————————————-

Two of our sponsored children live in Africa. I’m leaving my heart with them.

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10018565&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1Many of you have sponsored a child this week. I am so thankful that you saw the need, heard God and acted. I am grateful that you carry this heavy burden with me. Some of you are asking the same question I am: What will I do now that I’ve seen?

For those of you who’ve read along, but haven’t been able to sponsor yet, I implore you to talk about it as a family. There are still children waiting to be sponsored.

During the next several days, I will be reconnecting with my family. There will be a lot of hugging and crying and figuring out how and what we’re supposed to do. Will you pray for me as I process all that I’ve been exposed to?

I love y’all.

Day 6: Maureen . . . . March 9, 2010

By kristen 

Maureen grew up in a one room shack with dirt floors and one family bed for six people. The poorest of the poor. Breakfast and lunch were a luxury and dinner usually consisted of porridge without sugar. She didn’t know what it felt like for her stomach not to rumble.

Once after going several days without food, she and her sister decided to go look for some in their Nairobi slum. They found rotten vegetables and rotten fruit and thanked God for it. “I was around 6 years old. It was a breakthrough,” she says.

Maureen was invited to register in a Compassion project and got a sponsor when she was seven years old. Her life slowly began to improve. She says at first she only went to the Saturday project for food. It was the first time she’d had a balanced meal, which is enough to prevent malnutrition. She would pretend like she was going for seconds and fill her bag with food for her three other siblings. Compassion dropped off monthly food supplies to her home and paid for her school uniforms, shoes, education.

After some time as a sponsored child, she asked Jesus into her heart. “I let go of my bitterness and God came into my life.”

Maureen is a special young woman. She is now 24 years old. After completing the child sponsorship program, she interviewed and was accepted into Compassion International’s Leadership Development Program, designed for bright students with leadership skills who want to go to the University. There are 275 LDP students in Kenya (one of them is the man from the video yesterday who met his sponsor at the Catalyst conference). It costs $300 a month to sponsor an LDP student. This pays for their college education and gives them a living allowance.

She will graduate in May with a degree in Education. Her eyes welled up with tears when she mentioned the sponsor she’d never met. She said, “Do you know them? They are well-known because they sponsor sixty LDP students.” I quickly calculated $18,000 in my head and thought I misunderstood her.

“Yes, it’s true,” they are great donors to Compassion and they write us all letters. They are creating a legacy in us.

Mckmama and I spent a lot of time talking and the more I got to know Maureen, the better I began to understand the beauty of Compassion International and the total picture. It was so fulfilling to see this young girl escape poverty and learn that she used her LDP monthly allowance to move her entire family out of the slum and better their life.

We exchanged email addresses and she said, “Are you on Facebook, I’d like to friend you.” I laughed at the unexpected question! and said yes, of course.

When she was asked, “What would you say to your sponsor if you could right now?”

She answered confidently, “I’d tell them I’m a hero because of them.”

___________________________________

I have now seen the ends and outs of Compassion International. I have never been more impressed or blessed with a ministry that answers the high calling of God. It’s the real deal. If you still haven’t sponsored a child, this is your day. Don’t neglect the tug you feel in your heart. It’s God.

Day 5: Today, I Went to Hell . . . . March 8, 2010

By kristen

Armed guards (or bouncers, as Kenyans call them) walked us down a descending, muddy trail into Mathare Valley, one of Kenya’s largest slums, where 800,000 people live in an approximate two mile area.

Bile rose up in the back of my throat as my senses were overwhelmed with raw sewage and the smell of depraved humanity.

Silent tears streaked my face as we walked tightly in a group at a fast pace. We were told to “get in the project and get out” as quickly as possible. No cameras allowed (expect by our professional photographer, Keeley, who took pictures from her hip, under her jacket).

I simply do not have words to describe what I saw today. In my wildest imagination, I could never create these images. It was dark and oppressive. Evil and dangerous. The children looked so unhealthy, sick, desperate. The living conditions are not for the living.

Mathare Valley is a hell hole.

It is littered with young prostitutes, lonely orphans, vile pornography and extreme violence. Drug use and addiction, alcoholism are very common. The Compassion International project is deep in the center of the slum. We walked through absolute filth. I had to cover my mouth and nose several times to stop gagging.

I saw so much hopelessness. Where was God? How could He allow so much suffering?

The Compassion project is in the middle of this mess. The minute we entered the gate, I burst into tears, nearly sobbing. I felt such relief to be in a safer place. I immediately noticed the Compassion kids looked different. I saw something that was lacking in the rest of the Mathare Valley slum: it was hope.

There are nearly 300 children in this project, one of three in the area. Some of the beautiful children sang to us and performed a drama. Out of all the Compassion projects we’ve visited, I found it unbelievable to discover the most talented, gifted children in the worst of conditions.

It was like watching beauty rise from the ashes.

We went to the home of one of the boys who sang to us. His name is Vincent. He is in a child-led home, which is Kenya’s way of saying, he is a total orphan and there are no adults in his home. He is both brother, father and mother to his sibling. Vincent was orphaned as an 8 year old child and is now 18.

Compassion came alongside him and saved his life. Compassion gave him a job of delivering food, so he can provide for his brother. Vincent’s home was the most pathetic we’ve seen. It was just a dank, dark space, the size of a walk-in closet. It leaked rain water on us as we talked with him. There is no electricity, no running water. He does his homework by a small kerosine lamp.

We asked Vincent to describe a typical day: “I get up a 4 a.m. every morning. I get myself ready in the dark and then wake up my brother and he gets ready for school. I drop him off and then I walk an hour and a half to school, each way. I get home at 6:30 p.m. and I bring food home from school for my brother and I to eat. I do my homework by candlelight and then start again the next day.”

I asked him, “Are you afraid?”

He said that he used to be, but then he found Jesus. “I am not afraid with Christ in my life.”

There wasn’t a dry eye. We were simply overwhelmed by this amazing young boy, alone in the world, brave and strong, a Christ-follower. He smiled when he was asked what he did for fun. “I like music,” he said quietly.

The Compassion social worker asked him to sing us a song he had written:

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10011386&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1

Today, I went to Hell.

But I found Jesus in the midst of it, helping Vincent and his friends find a way out.

Even now, after being back at the hotel for two hours, I feel like I’m in shock. I will never forget the smells and images of Mathare Valley slum.

There are five children in the one Compassion project we visited who need a sponsor and countless others in the surrounding areas. Today, I saw what Compassion does. It simply and profoundly saves children from death. It gives them life.

Day 4: My Rescue . . . . March 7, 2010

By kristen 

They said her village was too far away.

Too remote to travel to Nairobi to meet me at the city amusement park.

But by some miracle and communication error, she came.

Makena, one of our family’s sponsored children, traveled with a Compassion social worker by motor bike for two hours, bus for an hour, and finally by car to join our newly sponsored boy, Ephantus. They came to meet their sponsor. Me.

It was a double blessing.

Makena, 7, experienced one hundred firsts today, including leaving her primitive village and riding in a car for the very first time. Ephantus is six and is from an urban Nairobi slum.

I cannot describe the unbelievable connection I had with these children. To them the word sponsor is equivalent to our word hero. They both said my name whispered in their mother tongue with reverence.

It was both humbling and empowering: Sponsorship rescues them from poverty, but it has rescued me from wealth.

Today, I became a mother again. The translator told these two children from different tribes and parts of Kenya, they were now brother and sister. Because of me. Tears mingled with laughter as we all experienced new things….

…..riding on a third world ferris wheel

….like petting a baby crocodile

….riding a camel

….together

…….and holding a crocodile egg

I fought back tears when I learned that Makena’s father was seriously injured in a land dispute recently in his village and was left for dead. He survived, but is crippled and unable to care for his family. I was told “the mother is strong,” but I ache for her as she is both mother and provider to Makena and her three siblings.

But these kids aren’t some distant strangers who will get an occasional letter and $38 a month from an American. This is my family. These are my people. Sponsorship is so much more than a financial commitment, it is a relationship. Relationship breeds love. I love these children. I weep for them. I want Ephantus to have new shoes. I want Makena to have a new dress, since her best one is ripped. I want the best for them.

When it was time to give my sponsored children gifts, I was empty-handed because I had only prepared for one. I was thankful I had stuffed Ephantus’ new backpack very full and brought him two soccer balls.

I quickly emptied my polka dotted bag and split the items. I’ve never been more proud to carry my things in a paper sack.

A brother and sister born out of compassion:

Compassion International has joined our hearts and lives forever, here and in eternity. I thought I was sponsoring children to help them.

Turns out I was the one needing to be rescued.

________________________________________

Perhaps, you do too. Click here to sponsor a child.

I strongly urge you to watch what happens when a sponsored child grows up and becomes an adult and meets their sponsor for the first time after 19 years of relationship. (Make sure you
watch it to the end).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WW0uTKblmN4]

*Did you know Compassion allows you to give family gifts to your sponsored child up to $1000 a year? Compassion International meets with the family to decide how the money should be spent…a new roof, beds, etc.

the really good photos are by Ryan Detzel and Brad Ruggles and the thought behind this post was inspired by  Shaun Groves.