11 PM - Christal Earle’s Blog

Laughter.

Pure, innocent laughter.

Gut spasms and sucking for air.

Looking around and enjoying the fact that other people are thinking the same thing; that they are enjoying it as much as you. Feeling like we belonged there with them in that moment, we didn’t want it to end.

We were tucked away from the world with them: outside a quiet village in Northern Thailand, far away from harm, predators, and those that didn’t want them. We were sitting on a grubby tile floor, munching on snacks, listening to the crickets outside the windows, and waiting to see something very exciting: the first official cartoon on the new TV set that the orphanage had just had donated. This was about to be a major life moment!

Have you ever wrestled with how to re-create a moment for others to know your experience? You want to be able to re-live the moment over and over again, yet sometimes you struggle to recall what it was about that memory that made it so awesome. In the world in which we live and work in Absolute, the moments of realization never seem to stop. You begin to live your life in light of what you now know: Watching a North American teenager laugh hysterically as they are being tickled and chased by a child in a village we are working in, the warmth of a hug around your knees as you are trying to explain to a group with you that the project they are working on is going to help a child like the exact one attached to your leg, the constant wrestle with attempting to communicate how insatiable poverty is and how heartless, cruel and relentless exploitation can be. These moments of laughter, shock, frustration and even intense hatred at evil can help to motivate us all to reach higher levels in what we are capable of doing. But these moments are fleeting, and I want to remember the rawness of emotion when my reality collides with theirs. I want to see the world through the eyes of others, and I want to be able to paint the picture for those who are yet to see.

Working in a children’s home is hairy and chaotic at the best of times. Especially if you are a group of North Americans who are there to help for two weeks and don’t speak their language. But in that place at that time, underneath the buzz and hum of so many people living so simply together, there was also a steady rhythm of trust and hope. There was a feeling of belonging, of safety, of acceptance. And best of all, there was Popeye.

Our Hero Holiday group had just helped finish some projects in their home and we helped to create an industrial strength TV stand that would be able to survive the many little hands that would be tempted to be all over it. We had searched all day desperately trying to find a copy of Kung Fu Panda for them to celebrate the new TV with. Kung Fu Panda was hip, it was funny, and it somehow seemed to be a little more their style. All day the rumours of Kung Fu Panda were floating around the home and the pressure was on. But all we could find was Popeye - in English. So that night, with sweaty palms, I stood up to explain to them we couldn’t find Kung Fu Panda, and we were going to have to settle for Popeye. I waited to see their disappointment…but it never came. Instead, they cheered and clapped when I said we were going to watch Popeye! Why? Because they didn’t honestly care! They were so excited to be with us and to see a real cartoon, they didn’t care about the fact that Popeye has been around for 90 years, and that he only mumbles in English. They only cared about the fact that we were sitting there on that floor, sharing snacks and holding hands in anticipation of how he was going to defeat the evil man and the white shark that were after him. They were caught up in the amazing feats and antics of Popeye as he downed the spinach and took on endless evil. They were watching a new hero emerge on that 48 inch TV screen in front of them and they were drinking in every moment.

Sitting on that floor that night, squished in by 80 warm little bodies, I became a fan of Popeye, of snacks, and of life. What a gift. To be able to sit there and enjoy that moment, though the world was still going on around us, for that night, we were all sharing the same experience, the same warm memory, the same laughter. And like a thick blanket on an October evening, it surrounded you in its warmth. It was what we all needed more than anything else: to know that we belonged there.

Next August, Hero Holiday will be returning to Thailand to work with this amazing children’s home. You can be a part of the experience! We will be finishing new projects to help this home as they continue to grow. There are currently over 80 kids being sheltered from their former nightmare of sexual exploitation and slavery, and together with them, we can create more space to save more lives and create a new future.

It’s kind of like the first drop on the mammoth roller coaster you are scared of. Your stomach feels like it’s pushing against your brain and you are totally in shock at what you are experiencing; you question where reality is in that moment. But this wasn’t set up for laughter and it didn’t end 60 seconds later with everybody saying, “That was awesome! Let’s get do it again!”.

With our summer Hero Holidays in Dominican Republic, we stay in a hotel and our meals are at a buffet. I have been here for 2 months now: I know the schedule of how bbq night ends in soup and cream sauce the next day, and which lunch times will have french fries vs. potatoes. I am well aware that I am blessed to be able to sit down at this table and have the food in front of me. I never want to take the provision of food for granted. But food looks different now. My world has not just been touched by something different - I had an all-out collision.

We are adopting a four year old Haitian girl and she is full of life, sass, and mischief. We met her in the community of people that work at the garbage dump in this city. Last year her mom died and her dad didn’t want her. Her family, who works at the garbage dump (one grandma and two aunts) can’t afford to keep her and so all parties involved are relieved and happy to see her move to Canada with us. Sounds easy, right? Many things sound easy in theory!

Last week, as she was visiting us at the hotel for the weekend (we can’t yet keep her full-time because we are waiting on some documentation), we sat down at the buffet with her. She wasn’t feeling well, and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get her to eat what was on her plate. As the staff came and took it away, I watched the plate being dumped into a nearby garbage can. What else are you going to do with someone else’s leftovers? I didn’t really think much of it until the next morning, as I was back out at the garbage dump working with one of our teams.

I was walking with one of our team members, showing them what we do at the garbage dump. As we walked, people called out, “Hola!” to us as they smiled and waved, knee deep in garbage. We work with these people, helping them to collect bottles to turn in for recycling and trying to understand their world. We have grown to love them deeply, as we work towards trying to help them have a future for themselves and their children. For many of them, this garbage dump is a source of food, clothing and provision. As I walked with my friend we talked about the crazy difference between two worlds and we dreamed of ways to bring more people to this place to help them understand that we can do something to change it.

When I looked up again, we had reached a new pile of garbage and I froze in place. The roller coaster had just crested, and I was on a free fall of realization as I scrambled to try to understand what I was seeing. It was my adopted Haitian family, my daughter’s grandma and aunt. They were standing in the garbage and rifling through the latest pile that had just been dumped. Only this pile could have been from my hotel. This pile could have been from the plate that we had watched leave our own table and be dumped in the waste basket the night before. This pile seemed to scream out to me about the great divide between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have-nots. This pile was personal.

What would you do in that moment? How would you feel if you saw people that you loved standing up to their knees in your garbage, hoping to find something to eat or to sell. Words elluded me completely. I could only do what I thought of in that moment: I climbed over the garbage and reached out and kissed each of them on the cheek and hugged them. Family is family and family needs to help each other when they need it most.

As I drove away from the garbage dump that day, life was a little more conflicting. There was a time in my life when the solutions were so simple: it was easy to dream up solutions for other people to make happen. But I have to choose what I am going to do to make life better for my new family and the people that live alongside of them. Now it’s personal.

The statistics of poverty and exploitation are mind-blowing. But statistics and numbers can’t reach out and kiss your cheek, they can’t replace the feeling of little arms wrapping aound your legs, of grimy hands reaching out to touch yours. Numbers can’t evoke the smell of poverty or the sounds of a world that is harsh and relentless. Numbers can only numb the sting and make you feel like you are helpless to change anything. But you’re not. You are the change.

Each year Absolute works to bring awareness and hope to youth in Canada and around the world. We speak in over 250 schools a year, and we bring hundreds of North Americans on our Hero Holiday trips to experience the power of making a difference through compassion and hard work. You can be a part of the change. In the 2009/2010 year ahead, we have numerous projects in Canada, Mexico, Dominican Republic, Thailand, and Haiti. We need your help. To find out how to get involved or partner with us financially, please check out www.absolute.org.

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You Could Win our ‘Ultimate Photo’ Contest!
Do you have a photo you want to share with the world? Do you or does someone you know want to join us on a Hero Holiday in 2010 and need some help to make it happen? Then we want to hear from you!
YOU COULD WIN $250 towards a 2010 Hero Holiday for yourself or someone you choose. All you have to do is submit a photo (MUST be taken by YOU) of you and/or your friends making a difference. It could be you helping at a local soup kitchen, participating in a fundraiser, or even on a humanitarian aid trip such as Hero Holiday. Just go to our facebook page: www.facebook.org/absolute.org and click on the promotions tab.
You have until September 18th, 2009 to submit a photo you think will get the most votes. Then, starting on September 21st, 2009, voting will start to determine the winner. If you get the most votes from September 21st to October 2nd, 2009, you will receive the $250 credit. Get as many people to vote for your photo as possible, as each person can only vote once per day for each photo. Results will be posted on October 5th, 2009.

First Place Prize: $250 credit towards a 2010 Hero Holiday
Second Place Prize: $100 credit towards a 2010 Hero Holiday
Third Place Prize: Hero Holiday T-shirt and water bottle

Good Luck!

I have shared this story around the world, and each time I have the opportunity, I am blown away by how lucky we are to be able to do what we do, and how amazing it is to have people like you join us…

In the summer of 2007, on one of our Hero Holiday trips to Dominican Republic, I found a little boy who has become a symbol of hope to thousands of people. This is his story.

When I met him at the garbage dump where he was working, I was instantly in love with his huge smile and gentle eyes. He was a 12 year old Haitian orphan, left in the Dominican Republic from the age of 4, alone, malnourished, and without an identity. When I had asked him his name, he said that he couldn’t remember what his mother had called him. I couldn’t sleep for days after meeting him: I would close my eyes and see his eyes and wonder if he remembered his mom or felt that he had been ripped off in life. The students with me on the trip gave me the answer to the obvious question: “Why don’t we just give him a name?” Brilliant, I know!

The next day we returned to his village with our students and a medical team to do a clinic. I was immediately scanning all the beautiful little faces looking up at me and searching for my special face. When I saw him, I jumped out of the truck and we ran toward each other. His laughter was infectious as I smothered him with kisses and love. He knew that I had ‘regalos’ (gifts in Spanish) for him that day, so he was even more excited to see me (let’s be honest!)

We went to a quiet place where two other orphaned boys were and I brought out their gifts. Their eyes filled with excitement as I brought out shiny basketball jerseys, some rice and beans, and a brand new can of Pringles chips for each of them! They were so excited! They kept asking, “For me?” and I choked back the tears as I saw their eyes when I handed them their new clothes. I could tell that they had never owned anything so nice before and the whole moment seemed almost holy and surreal to me as we stood in this dirty alley and shared such an intimate experience. I pulled my little friend aside and I brought my translator to help me. I told him how much I loved him and how special he was. I told him that I thought for a long time about a name for him and I wanted to give him something special that would remind him all the time of how much he was loved. I had searched for a meaningful name and I had found the perfect name: David, because ‘David’ means to be loved and cherished. His eyes lit up and I asked him if he understood that. He nodded his head and as I kissed him through my tears, I saw a little tear in his eye. As I held him, I told him that from now on, whenever we saw him, we are going to call him David so he is reminded of how much he is loved.

That was two years ago. Today, he still answers to the name David, and he still hugs me shyly as he sees me. Only now, through all the attention that we gave to his story, a missions agency helped him get adopted into a home, and he is safe, well fed, and full of life. David’s story is about more than sympathy or even empathy; it is about love - the highest human aspiration. Is not the goal of all to love and be loved? Love is patient and kind and keeps no record of wrongs and when I look at David, I see love. He is not living in the anger of the past and how much he feels ripped off with where life has left him. David is gentle and so willing to open up his heart to me.

Each summer we are reminded of how great it is to share these experiences with such amazing people. In each country, on each Hero Holiday trip, the people that join us make me want to continue to forge ahead and be the voice for the ‘Davids’ of the world. Together, we are going to make a difference for the poor and the exploited. Somehow, I have to believe that in my heart. Every moment we have to make a difference has the possibility of leaving a resounding impact through to the generations to come. Our lives are an amazing gift and the best possible thing that we have to offer is our own willingness.

In David’s village, there are 36 orphans. All of them are displaced people with no country of origin that will recognize them. They are enslaved by poverty, and some of them I have met were physically enslaved and exploited before they got there. They have escaped violence and abuse, and are currently still very vulnerable and needy. They need education and they need people like all of us to see their cause as our own and to see them as our own children. We succeed when they succeed.

Who would have ever thought I could find something so beautiful and valuable in a garbage dump?

Hero Holiday is currently happening in both Mexico and Dominican Republic, building homes, schools and community structures to help improve their quality of life and give them hope for the days ahead. This is possible because of all of the amazing people that join us, that help to sponsor our building projects, and help to get us into High Schools to get the word out on what we do. People like you. Thanks!

There is a word that when spoken can cause even the strongest human to shake with anxiety. Whenever it’s mentioned, the symptoms can be similar in many of us: sweaty palms, clammy skin, hair follicles standing on end, even lack of concentration. Images can be conjured up of traumatic childhood experiences, threats from our parents, and even the smell of the dreaded anaesthetic. The word? Dentist.

I was one of those not-so-blessed kids that became intimately acquainted with the ceiling tiles in my dentist’s office. I knew how many there were, which ones to focus on, and which ones annoyed me. I had the timing of the freezing down to a tee, and I even had memories of a particular tooth flying out of my mouth and bouncing off of my unfortunate dentist’s temple before it finally landed at the opposite end of the room. However, in retrospect, I owe a huge thank you to that dentist because he had the foresight to help me have the set of nice, full chompers that I now own. My dentist was awesome!

Dentists have been open for business since 5000 B.C. The need for good teeth is nothing new. However, it is often an unattainable dream for those who most need it - the world’s poor. Like any kind of medical care, dentistry costs money; but the irony of dental care is that many of the issues could be prevented if we all had access to something as simple as a toothbrush and the basics of dental hygiene.

Our patients that day didn’t have access to a reception room TV or even a coffee table with six month old magazines. Instead, they had an open-air waiting room next to the make-shift receptionist table under a palm tree on the side of a dirt road. As motorbikes wound through the crowd, cows munched on grass in their waiting room, and chickens dodged human feet. Each patient possessively held a paper with a number: their lucky ticket to freedom from pain and anxiety. Dental pain sucks, and when you can’t afford to feed your family, the last thing on your mind is trying to get a good dental plan in place. Many of the people there that day, when an opportunity like this comes along, would be willing to do whatever it takes to get the care that they desperately need.

As each new patient laid in the dental chair (the bright blue plastic lounge chairs from our hotel) the atmosphere was not one of tension and anxiety, even though many of them were having teeth pulled. Rather, it was one of light heartedness and laughter. As they waved at their family and friends on the sidelines, they smiled confidently at our team members. Behind the rows of lounge chairs, small groups of kids excitedly took turns holding a large set of fake teeth, enamored with a toothbrush and what it can do to make teeth clean. It was hard to keep a straight face as I listened to them chatter and encourage each other about how to brush properly. After they had their dental work done, many of our new friends would jump up from the chair, shake their dentist’s hand, even hug and kiss them on the cheek. As they walked away, holding their cheeks, they would give the thumbs up to the other people in the “waiting room” under the palm tree, letting them know it was going to be fine.

Later that evening, as we sat around and discussed the day’s events, our Hero Holiday dentists shared with our team that it was one of the most rewarding days of their entire careers. Really, how could it not be? How many times does a dentist get a hug and kiss for pulling someone’s tooth and causing them obvious pain?

This August, Hero Holiday is returning to Dominican Republic to complete another dental and medical humanitarian trip and partnering with the Nursing Program from the University of Western Ontario. We will be doing an extensive number of clinics in communities that have only dreamed of being able to see a dentist or doctor. We will be doing health seminars, clinics, and providing vital care to those who need it most. This is possible because of people like you. Thank you for your support, your partnership, and even your willingness to learn a little bit more about what we do as an organization.

**Please consider posting our 52 stories to your Facebook and/or Twitter accounts, as well as encourage others to sign up to receive it to their inbox each week. Together, we can bring influence and change!

It was hard to hide the smiles behind our hands as we watched their struggle to figure out what to do. During the prayer before the meal, eyes darted open to double check that the pizza was still in front of them; needing reassurance that it wasn’t all a dream. When they were finished the prayer, the adventure began as small little hands, grasping tin soup ladles, tried to figure out how to eat the piece of pizza in front of them. It was our last night with the kids before our Hero Holiday team headed back to Canada, and this was our way of saying thanks. Like any good party, we needed pizza - only this pizza had to come by taxi from an hour and a half away and now sat in front of 85 sets of eyes that were trying to figure out how to attack it. They had never seen it before. They had heard rumours of the existence of pizza, but none had tried it. Despite their frustration with figuring it out, there was an excited titter of giggles as they realized they could pick it up with their hands and not get in trouble. I silently breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the food choice had been a success.

Once the pizza had been cleaned up, it was time for the real party to begin! One hundred of us sat in a circle on the floor of the dining hall as the music started. Around the circle, two bottles of baby powder began to change hands. The music blared and the bottles flew from hand to hand - and then it stopped. Our team looked at each other and wondered what was going on. One of the workers turned to us and said, “Whoever is holding the baby powder when the music stops, gets to pick someone to dump it on!” We laughed, not thinking he was telling the truth; and then we stopped laughing and gasped in shock as we got a cup of baby powder dumped on our heads by one of the children holding the bottle. Now it was on! Within moments, one hundred adults and children jumped up, started dancing and laughing and dumping baby powder on each other. The air was thick with the powder, and the floor was slick and slippery. All of us were covered form head to toe, laughing as we dodged little boys doing penguin dives across the floor in the powder. Over and over again, our team members would look at each other with incredulity as we exclaimed, “I can’t believe this is happening!” Little hands grasped ours, dancing and giggling and holding us tight, knowing that this was the beginning of our good-bye.

As the music faded, the children started to sing a song to us, as they hugged us one by one. With each new child that came forward to say thanks, I felt like my heart was going to burst with the intensity of emotion. Little arms clung to my legs as their owners had tears streaming down their faces, neither of us wanting to let go. This is what love can feel like; this is what hope can do. Each of these children opened up their hearts to us and let us into their world, willing to trust us despite what they have been through. Each of them had stories of abuse, exploitation and loss, and yet each of them were so full of life and passion that it seemed hard to envision anything else. Through their eyes, we glimpsed hope, as they told us of what they wanted to be when they grew up and  what they wanted to do for other kids that were caught in the same cycle that they had been rescued from. These relationships were rich and full of life.

As gifts of necklaces and flowers were placed around our necks, one little girl clung to my hand and wouldn’t let go. Sobbing, she laid her head against my arm as I held her. I felt loss for her in that moment, as I wondered if she knew who her mother had been, and what she was feeling at that time.  As I looked up, her 18 year old sister came to stand beside me with her young baby on her hip. She smiled shyly at me as she handed me a parcel. It was a card to take home to Canada. She had painstakingly learned how to print some English words of goodbye and thanks, and my heart was touched by the effort. However, it was the closing line of the card that made me burst into simultaneous tears and laughter:

“We will miss you and we love you. If it gets cold in Canada, wear a sweater.”

In case you are wondering, I have adhered to her words of advice!

Next summer, Hero Holiday will be returning to Northern Thailand to work again with these amazing kids and their staff. We would love to have you join us in August of 2010. For more information, check out www.heroholiday. com. Come prepared for a wild ride!