What are you up to this weekend?
remember
August 20, 2010
It’s important for me, for my heart and my attitude, to remember things. Both the big and the little things. As I get older and more busy, I have a harder time automatically remembering things. Things like my to-do list, what we need at the grocery store, friends’ phone numbers, doctor appointments and birthdays easily slip my mind unless I write them down. To help with this, I have become a big time list maker, voice memo on my cell phone leaver, check mark checker, Post-It note sticker and string around my finger tier. Well, maybe not that last one, but it would probably behoove me to begin reminding myself of things that way, too.
There are others things that I have a tendency to forget as well. Things that are far more important than when it’s time for the dentist or if we are out of dish soap or not. The earliest I can remember having these feelings of not wanting to forget something important like this was when I was a child going to summer camp. Our church was affiliated with a delightful, small, simple Bible camp that’s still going strong to this day. Our family went to Family Camp weeks there and, as my sister and I grew, we got to spend a week there by ourselves each summer. With lots of other children our ages, primitive log cabins, mosquitos thick in the air and a huge, steel bell that would ring when it was time for meals, chapel, classes or canteen time.
And then there was lots of learning about Jesus.
It was all so wonderful. There was some hand holding with boys, late night campfires, staying up late telling scary stories with our camp counselor, running from our cabin to the very primitive bathroom in the middle of the night with a flashlight, buying Milk Duds and push up popsicles, playing shuffleboard, swimming and canoeing around the little island in the lake, funny chants in the mess hall, putting on skits during evening chapel and singing zillions of upbeat songs about our faith. I would come back home after the week, especially as a teenager, and be fired up about God. I would come away with a renewed passion for following Jesus, a stronger desire to be a light for Him in my own corner of the world back home and a promise to myself that I would spend time reading the Bible each day.
Yet often it would happen. I would forget that passion, slack off on my promises, slip back into my routine that didn’t contain as much about God as I wanted. I tried, though, to stay fired up. Sometimes I had better success than others. And this exact experience has followed me many times into adulthood, too. Unfortunately. I have a tendency to be jazzed up or emotionally moved about one thing or another, but as time passes, to let that feeling fade.
I have been determined, especially in the past year or so of our lives, which has in innumerable many ways been a “new beginning” for us, to remember.
I want to remember that newborns are only small once. Remember that I will miss getting up in the night, being squirted with urine and seeing bags under my eyes. I long to remember that I am not promised a long life with my children, anything could happen at any moment. I want to remember that Stellan nearly left our lives and to be forever grateful, remember how very sick he was, always be aware of what a gift we were given, never to take a single breath our children take for granted. I want to remember how close I came to losing my marriage, how much God saved us from, be ever aware of the brink of divorce my husband and I were on, never to forget that working hard to make my marriage keep working will always be worth it. I want to remember Kenya, never to forget the awful smell of the slums, to always see clearly the hope in the eyes of the children being helped by Compassion, to remember the dirty children and hardworking parents and pain and loss and poverty and hope.
Without even realizing it, I’ve lately done a variety of things to help me remember the most important things in my life. To keep them always before me, in my line of sight, on my mind. To remember. When Stellan had his successful ablation in November, I kept the alarms on my phone active for three months. One of the first times the alarm went off after his surgery was an amazing success, I silenced it. “Won’t be needing that anymore!” I could hardly believe that the many high doses of meds that Stellan took every few hours around the clock, even in the middle of the night, were done for him. Over. He would never need them again. But when those first alarms went off and I silenced them, I suddenly had a better idea. I vowed then and there for three months to let each and every alarm still chime, many times a day, for the purpose of remembering. I would say a thank you prayer to God every time an alarm went off. In the night, I would roll over and whisper praises that I was turning off my cell phone alarm and not giving medicine to my sick son. It would ring when we were out, when we were sleeping and as we played. It was my way to remember. I never want to forget.
I like to write chalkboard reminders to myself about God’s promises. I have a beautiful decal that reads, “I am a child of God” above the doorway when you walk to our children’s rooms, for I never want them to forget, either. Big Mac is better than me about remembering to write to our Compassion children; he reminded me and we did it just this morning. I leave the photograph of Stellan at his sickest up on my blog. We gathered and saved remnants of the house we almost moved into that caught on fire. I tape Bible verse cards to my bathroom mirror and reminders to myself near MckFlurry’s cradle that read, “You’re gonna miss this.” And recently, I printed a bunch of photographs of our trip to Kenya. Some of Miichelle and my husband are in frames alongside those of our own children. I ordered a big print of the gorgeous African savanna we went on safari to; Kenyan paintings and sculptures are here and there in our home.
I had a different idea, too, that wasn’t exactly mainstream. I did it anyway, because I have no desire to go back to my old ways of lettings passion fade, of not remembering. I wanted to keep the difficult experiences we had in Kenya alive, for our children to have at least a small sense of what life is like for children in other places in the world, to remember the tears I cried and the passion God gave me for the poor, lost and hurting. So I chose the photograph of mine from Kenya that was the most disturbing, and I had it printed.
For me, this photograph tugs at my heart, bringing me back precisely to that heartwrenching day when my husband and I, along with the rest of the team, walked in to the unbelievably awful Mathare Slum, a wretched place full of desperate people yet holding a glimmer of hope. I wrote the word remember on the photograph and framed it. I want to remember Kenya, remember the slum, remember the way I promised to God that I would change, remember the way He spoke to me and began to refine me.
I want to always remember. All of it.
home
March 12, 2010
My husband and I are home from Kenya at last. We are so happy to be with our four babies and could not be more excited to embark upon this new “chapter” of our lives. I’d love to tell you more about everything now, about how it is to be home and what we are [...]
it only takes a spark
March 11, 2010
While in Kenya, we had the amazing chance twice to visit some Masai tribes’ villages. Yesterday, during a day trip away from Nairobi and into the savannas inhabited by Masai people, we were welcomed by these amazing, beautiful, strong people. The Masai people are very traditional, as opposed to their Kenyan city and town dwelling [...]
new MckDaddy post
March 11, 2010
UPDATED: Sitting in the Amsterdam airport early in the morning on Thursday. It’s Wednesday night at home. Crazy! We’re about halfway home from Kenya. Anyway, I heard from some of you that the link in this post didn’t work. Sorry! I’ve fixed it and have made the image itself a link. (That part didn’t work. [...]
untitled
March 10, 2010
UPDATE: You inspire me. Thank you, on behalf of the children you have sponsored, from the bottom of my heart. You have now sponsored 397 children in the past week. I’m breathless. Thank you. These beautiful 595 updated: now just 566 554 532!!! children are still available for sponsorship. We’ll be on our Kenya trip [...]
Our video with Miichelle!
March 9, 2010
A video for our four children at home, introducing them to their new “sister”! But you all can watch it, too:) MckMama’s Sponsor Child from LV Hanson on Vimeo. Oh, and the total number of children you all have sponsored so far this week we’ve been in Kenya is now 295!!!!!!!! Want to add to [...]
full circle
March 8, 2010
Yesterday’s experience in the slum was heartbreaking. Yesterday’s post was heartbreaking. But I want you to know that, with as much sadness and desolation as I’ve seen in Kenya while we’ve been here, there is hope.
I have been awestruck time and time again as I’ve seen how amazing the work that Compassion is doing here in Kenya is. Giving children a chance at an education, paying for school fees and uniforms, teaching parents about disease prevention and family planning, assisting with the acquisition of income generating skills, serving food, offering higher education after high school, sharing the love of Jesus with zero requirement to convert in order to be sponsored, educating families about how they can better their life situations and sharing the message of hope that just because these children live in poverty now doesn’t mean they always need to.
Right in the midst of the Mathare Valley, where it rained during much of our visit yesterday, there is a beacon of hope.
The Mathare Valley Community Outreach is a Compassion project right in the heart of the slum. It is full of nearly 300 sponsored children who live in the Mathare Valley and would otherwise live a very different existence.
They go to school.
They have school uniforms that they proudly wear. This is Dismus. He’s 16, has a twin sister Nancy who is already married and lives away from home. He has been sponsored by Compassion since he was 7. His sponsor even helped pay for a life saving surgery he had when he was 8 and was hospitalized for a year.
We visited his mud house today, situated right by the filthy river in the slum, near the distillery. Dismus is a fabulous boy who gets amazing grades and aspires to be a doctor. They’ve already been able to move to a two room house instead of a one room house; we’re so optimistic about what Dismus is going to be able to do with his life!
Dismus knows who his sponsor is and is clearly very grateful. I can tell you, to meet these sponsored children and talk with them really solidifies in my mind how impacting a sponsorship is on their lives and in their hearts.
My new friend Brad Ruggles, a blogger from Indiana who is on this trip to Kenya, writes spectacular, beautiful posts. Today, during a home visit, he filmed an amazing video of a teenage boy named Eliud. Eliud in the past ten years has had his father, mother and sister all die of sickness. He now lives alone in the slum and is utterly aware that his sponsor, Nick, is of paramount importance in his life. Check out Brad’s post to learn even more, and prepare to be moved by Brad’s video of Eliud, getting a chance to share with his sponsor Nick what is on his heart:
Oh my goodness, did the waterworks flow? I know they did for me! If you would like to help a child like Eliud, and perhaps become like a mother or father to him or her, please, please click here to become a sponsor.
The children we met today, who have been given such a fighting chance by Compassion to make it out of the poverty and hopelessness they live in, were so inspiring. So beautiful. They are not rich; they are happy. In fact, Shaun, one of our trip leaders, said something really convicting when he spoke in church the other day. He read the Bible verse where the writer asked God to neither make him rich nor poor. Shaun encouraged us to release ourselves from wealth. To give it away so that we won’t be hindered by it. How beautiful. I have been learning that a little bit as of late, how much joy there is in joyful, generous giving. But to “release myself from wealth” was not an angle I had looked at before. Inspiring and convicting! Oh, Lord, teach me to release myself from wealth, not to hoard, but to give freely to Your children.
Yes, these children.
Their sponsors mean the world to them.
I know I said in my last post that many of you may never meet the child you sponsor, but I guess this next video goes to show that we should “never say never.” Okay seriously, friends, you must watch this video, if not in its entirety, than at least skip to the end and watch that.
It shows a sponsored Compassion child from Kenya, all grown up, getting the chance to meet for the first time in person that man who sponsored him for 19 years.
To see a sponsorship come full circle like this left me with big, fat tears rolling down my face and splattering into my lap. If you are on the fence about whether or not sponsoring a child will make an impact in that boy or girl’s life, I hope this video helped you see that it really will!
If you would like to embark on your own full circle experience, you can sponsor a child right now by just clicking here.
The schools and projects and churches in the slum are beacons of hope, symbols of the future, reminders not to give up. The view from outside of the school windows may not be much,
but the view into the kinds of lives these children can someday have is spectacular.
Speaking of spectacular, this is Maureen. She and her sister used to go for days without eating and would rummage in the garbage for rotten morsels when they could. School was hit or miss for her. She and her siblings slept on the floor next to their parents’ bed, under one thin sheet together, in a one room house in a slum.
But when Maureen was in elementary school, she became a sponsored child through Compassion. She found out about the project when she would walk by there on Saturdays and see them cooking food. She had no idea what the purpose of Compassion was, but she was hungry. She came every week and was eventually chosen to be sponsored! She was able to attend school and get one meal a week. She would go for seconds and then hide the food in a paper bag, taking it home for the rest of her family to eat.
When her sponsor sent her gifts, she would divide them up between her siblings, who were all happy and not jealous that she was sponsored. Eventually, Maureen graduated high school and decided to go on to Compassions LDP (Leadership Development Program), which funds her higher education.
She is now educated to be a teacher, but before she takes her first job, she told us it is important for her to give back. So do you know what Maureen does? She sponsors a child herself and volunteers her time at one of Compassion’s projects in Kenya. Soon enough, she will take a teaching job. Just recently, she was able to move her family out of the slum and into a better neighborhood. Her mother works and together the two of them pay for rent and food for the family. Maureen has come to know the Lord and her siblings have all accepted Jesus, too. They are still praying for their mother’s conversion. Maureen will travel to the United States this May to speak about her amazing story.
To say it was inspirational to meet Maureen would be an understatement of enormous proportions.
But there are many other children, both here in Kenya and around our globe, who are still waiting. Waiting to get in. Literally. Children clamored around the school, looking in, wanting to be there.
They are waiting for help. Waiting for the boost they need to make a better lives for themselves. Waiting for a sponsor. Waiting for you.
Won’t you sponsor a child through Compassion? It would mean the world to that child. Literally.
Mathare Valley
March 8, 2010
They aren’t supposed to be easy. They are supposed to be hard.
Heartbreaking.
And utterly unbelievable.
For that is what it was like for our team today. Hard. Heartbreaking. Utterly unbelievable.
This is the Mathare Valley, a giant slum in Kenya.
We visited here today. In the hours since we’ve been back at our modest hotel, a literal mansion compared to the living conditions we witnessed earlier, I have been having an extremely difficult time processing what we experienced.
That children, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of them, live here, spending each day amidst a desolation you cannot comprehend unless you’ve seen it with your own eyes, makes my soul ache.
I want to try to describe it for you, though. I think you need to know about it. You don’t want to know about it. Trust me. But I think you need to.
I needed to.
This place, you guys. You can’t imagine it. You just can’t. Imagine a place as desperate and awful as you can conceive of. Imagine children living in squalor not fit for wild animals. Imagine filth and slime and rotten garbage. Imagine this place of desolation.
Did you imagine it?
Well, what we experienced today, nay what these hundreds of thousands of people live each day, is worse than that. It’s worse than what you can you even imagine.
Unless you’ve been here, all the photographs and videos and descriptions can give you an idea, but you can’t really grasp just how awful it is in the slums of Kenya. You can try to imagine it, but it’s very uncomfortable.
Imagine streams of raw sewage flowing everywhere. Imagine pornography being shown to men and children alike in little huts. Imagine fathers who work at the makeshift distillery by the sewage infested river, who then spend their money getting drunk on the beer they make instead of bringing it home to their families. Imagine children who eat rotten fruit they salvage from the heaps of waste that are piled everywhere. Imagine homes made of tin or cardboard or mud. Imagine the child led homes, where the parents have died and the children are living alone, fending for themselves.
Imagine the stench.
In an area just a couple square miles big, there are 800,000 people spending their days and nights.
There is dirt and mud everywhere. Nothing is paved. As we walked through the slum today, on our way to the Compassion project situated squarely in the center, I focused on the ground, trying hard not to slip. At one point, my eyes scanning the garbage that lay on the dirt, I came to a realization, especially when I saw a cross section of the ground.
There was not garbage on the ground. The ground was garbage.
The slum is built on garbage. Years and years of decayed garbage, piled up in layers, decomposed into black dirt, creates the ground upon which these people live and have their homes.
Can you imagine?
I didn’t cry today. That was a first for me on this trip to Kenya.
At first, I wasn’t sure why. Why I didn’t cry.
But then it hit me.
I think I didn’t cry because,
if I cried,
that would mean I had accepted that these awful, impoverished, beyond belief conditions are real.
And so far, my mind refuses to believe that they are.
But I will come to terms with it. I don’t want to, but I will.
I haven’t yet. Seeing the children today was the most difficult. It was what I didn’t want to accept as real. Seeing these children living like this.
Children who need sponsors. Children who might be able to attend school and eat at least one meal a week (Yes, a week.) if they were sponsored.
Sponsors’ $38 a month can help buy new clothing for children in Kenya,
and help them pay the monthly rent on the homes they live in.
It was an unbelievable experience today.
Thank you for letting me begin to sort my thoughts out here. Thoughts about how incredibly overcome I was when I saw the people in this slum walking on the garbage/ground with bare feet.
Thank you for looking at these photographs and not turning away.
It is my hope that your heart will be softened,
and that you will be willing to head over to Compassion’s Sponsor a Child page and pick out a child to help.
I pray that I will be able to discern what God wants me to do with the broken heart I have after visiting the Mathare Valley slum today.
Right now, I do know that He wants me to share with you about it.
About the stories of the people there.
And, oh boy, do I have stories.
Stories of hope and promise, coming right out of this slum. You will be encouraged. I think you’ll want to help.
Because, you see, these dire conditions are awful, but they are not completely hopeless.
I’ll show you more about that beautiful hope tomorrow.
Miichelle, from his perspective
March 7, 2010
If you’d like to hear what my husband had to say about our day with Miichelle and what he learned, just click right here to see his new post!
