11 PM - Christal Earle’s Blog

Saying goodbye is hard. Airport farewells never get easier, letting go of someone that you love is painful, and even change can be difficult. There are many times on this journey that we have been on in Absolute when we have had to learn to say goodbye. Faces have changed and positions have shifted over the years, there have been some painful separations of distance and time, and there has even been loss that we have had to support each other through. We have had to wave goodbye to families as our truck is pulling out of a community for the last time, wave tearful goodbyes to kids we are leaving behind in a children’s home and we have had to let go of little hands that we knew we wouldn’t hold again. But through it all, one thing has helped me to hang on: knowing that I am not alone.

Almost anyone will tell you that one of their favourite parts of an Absolute Hero Holiday is at the end of the day. Not because we are done the hard work and not because we get to escape back to our comfort zone. Rather, it is because it is when we sit down and connect with each other and have a debriefing on the day’s events. It may not seem like much to you, but when your world has been rocked and you are realizing that there are way more questions than answers in life, sometimes it is really great to be able to have someone that has shared the experience with you to walk alongside of you and challenge your way of thinking.

This past Christmas, we had two Hero Holidays happening: one in Mexico and one in Dominican Republic. In Mexico a family received a house for Christmas and it changed everyone’s life that was involved in the process. In Dominican Republic we helped two families get solid foundations on their homes, as well as worked in garbage dumps, helped at an orphanage and had a Christmas Fiesta with a community that had never had one before. I was in Dominican Republic and something happened that came up when I was talking one evening with some participants. On Christmas Day, we went to a village and played soccer with the community in the afternoon. It was a lot of fun and we made some great memories. But the memorable part for me happened when the sun went down and we set up the big white sheet on the front of someone’s house.

Right there, in the middle of that little village full of stateless, impoverished families, the evening became magical as we all stood around together and watched Ice Age 3 in Spanish. For many of the people there it was the first time they had ever seen a movie, and as Sid the Sloth bumbled through his adventures with the woolly mammoths and saber toothed tigers, the crowd tittered and giggled non stop, elbowing each other and pointing at the screen. Children gasped in surprise when the action got intense and all eyes were glued to that transformed white sheet for a full 90 minutes. There was no crunching popcorn, no beeping cell phones, and no whispers, only rapt attention as each person wanted to drink in the whole experience.

As I stood there among the crowd that night I was reminded of why I love to go to the movies at home. Entertainment is not about critiquing someone’s performance or about always needing to see the latest film. Entertainment is a privilege and it is a gift to be able to get lost in a story for a while, no matter what your situation is in life. In some ways, entertainment is as much of a human need as many other things. It may not have seemed like much, but to be able to offer that community something that gave them a lift out of the normal tedium of survival, it was a gift worth giving. As the movie finished and the crowd began to disperse in the dark, one little boy was walking by our team and they heard him say in Spanish, “This is the best Christmas ever!”. We didn’t come with gifts or anything fancy - we had no gifts left to bring. We came with our friendship and with something for all of us to experience together and that alone made that night special for him and for us.

As we sat around later that night, debriefing over the day’s events and processing what we had experienced, each of us saw something different in the evening. We each appreciated different aspects of the day and how much this Christmas would be one for all of us to remember. And the next day, while many of our family back home would be fighting their way through the boxing day sales and finishing up their third or fourth Christmas meal, we woke up and smiled and laughed at the gifts we had received on Christmas: friendship, laughter, and a new appreciation for the value of spending time with people that are important.

Today is the beginning of the rest of our lives. Each day is a gift and each breath is a blessing. What we choose to do with our time, energy and resources becomes both our offering and legacy that we give to the world around us. Saying goodbye to another year is bittersweet for me as 2009 was a great year for us in so many ways and we each experienced moments that we will cherish forever. But 2010 is full of exciting possibilities and you can be a part of it!

From all of us in Absolute and on behalf of every participant and beneficiary from each of our programs, we wish you a Happy New Year! Together, we can make 2010 a special year for countless lives around the world!

I only knew her briefly, but my friend, JK, told me all about her. She was 17 and ever since as long as anyone can remember, she was passionate about anything that was pink. In fact, although her real name was Bu-Tomb, she quickly got the nickname of “Pink” when she was first found on the streets as a young child. She was one of the first children that Kru Nam had ever rescued out of the horrors of the brothels, and she had been at the home since 2001. She had a mom who was still on the streets and recently made it through a drug rehab program. She had three other siblings, yet she had no official existence. She was stateless, she was at risk, and she had a smile that would melt your heart.

It had gone unnoticed for quite a while, slowly and quietly stealing her strength, her health and her future. Like a stealthy thief it may have laid dormant in her body for years, but no one will ever know for how long. She was one of 3 kids from the children’s home to ever make it to the 11th grade and she was sponsored by kind foreigners who cared about their future. She loved school and she had hopes of what she wanted to be when she graduated. Although she owned nothing of any material value in this world, she was loved, she was valued and she was among her family in that place. It was a large family full of other kids like her and full of caring adults who worked tirelessly to help them let go of the past and embrace a future that could be free from exploitation and shame. Her life was a bright light and that light was stolen by an enemy that no one saw coming: cancer.

Pink was diagnosed with leukemia earlier this year. By the time she received the official diagnosis, the cancer had begun to spread to her stomach and she was unable to digest food normally. Her young life was quickly slipping away and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Because she was stateless, there wasn’t a lot that anyone cared to do about it -anyone except her family at the children’s home. Together they located her mother, found support to help cover the medical costs and together they made her last time on earth beautiful and full of dignity. Different staff members would stay beside her bed. Although she wasn’t supposed to be there according to the hospital, her birth mother would come and sleep under her bed each night, trying to be as close to her as possible. Kru Nam made sure that Pink was treated like a princess. Despite the fact that she shared a hospital room with 8 other patients, she was in her only little world of pink: pink headbands, pink pillowcases and even a pink robe.

Pink’s birth mother was Burmese and Catholic, and as the priest was located and brought to give her her last rites, they hooked her frail body up to adrenaline. Her heart monitor steadily beeped as the priest prayed and her mother started to cry and sing the songs of the dead. JK and a small group of friends stood by in silence. Slowly the monitor went flat, and as Pink’s spirit left the earth JK’s cell phone rang. It was Kru Nam. “What just happened? I know that something just happened.” She somehow knew. I think a mother’s heart always knows, deep down inside, no matter how many “children” she has.

Pink was a gift to the world and her life was worth the effort. She left the earth knowing that she was loved and that there were people who cared deeply about her. Like countless millions of young lives at risk around the world, she needed to know that there was a safe place to grow up in and there was a safe place to live out her dreams. Pink’s memorial service was sweet and beautiful; just like her. She was dressed in her favourite pink shirt.

Kru Nam is one of the heroes that Absolute has had the privilege to support and work alongside of through our Hero Holiday programs in Thailand. We need your help to be able to continue to do so. We are returning to work with Kru Nam in August of 2010 and we would love to have you join us. Your life can be a part of the picture of hope that we are endeavoring to draw for kids such as Pink who need to know that someone believes in them. Please consider playing a part in creating that picture.

The stage lights are coming back up as Jon walks out to the centre of the stage. Flashing a smile, he puts the microphone close and begins: “Me da mucho gusto estar aqui con ustedes, ojala te diviertas y te esta gustando la presentación! My name is Jon and I am a drummer for the band Hundredfold. It’s really great to be here today with all of you.” Seeing his confidence and hearing it in his voice, you would never guess the story that lies beneath it all.

Racism. It’s ugly, it’s offensive, and as a Canadian, I want to believe it doesn’t happen in my country. But to our shame it does happen and often in the place where a generation should be safe to be free from it: it happens in the schoolyard, in the hallways and even in the classroom.

Jon was born in Santa Cruz, Bolivia to Mexican parents. When his family returned to Mexico City, he quickly adjusted to his new life by playing soccer. Within a very short period of time he and his brother were discovered for an elite team that was famous around the country. Traveling to compete all over Central America, becoming a young celebrity in the world of soccer, he even began to do TV commercials for products, enjoying public admiration. His future in the world of soccer looked extremely bright. He was young, he was promising and he was loved. But when Jon was 10 years old, his family decided to move to Winnipeg, Manitoba to start a new life - and everything changed. Their parents needed to find better employment opportunities for the future of their family and John and his brother had to come to terms with leaving behind their dreams of a bright future of professional sports.

As he entered junior high in the public school system in Winnipeg, Jon went through extreme culture shock. Not only were the city, the weather, and the language all foreign to him, but he quickly realized that there was something he had never considered: that “Mexican” was a dirty word. Each day became a routine of torturous racism and bullying as Jon was victimized in the schoolyard, in the hallways and in the classroom. Jon recalled moments of being held down, kicked, spat upon and being viciously verbally assaulted – all because he was different. In the midst of all the shock and pain, he began to withdraw, turning inward and entertaining dark thoughts.

In their vulnerability, many students like Jon search desperately to silence the pain - and he was no exception. Fueled by pain and self-hatred, he began to spiral down into a haze of drug abuse, depression and suicidal obsessions. Dreaming of escaping the pain seemed so much more comforting than crawling back up. After a failed suicide attempt, Jon had a reality shot. He needed help. His brother recognized that Jon needed an outlet to express himself and talked his parents into buying Jon a drum kit. A drum kit may seem like a random thought, but it turned out to be just what Jon needed to let out his frustration and discover something he was really gifted in. As he began to realize his abilities and passion for music, Jon also began to trust again. Shortly after he received his drum kit, Jon met Gord, a middle aged man who ran the local youth centre. Gord began to give Jon opportunities to be a part of something he could feel excited about and something that helped him find his way out of the pain of rejection and school violence. Through his kindness and encouragement, Gord gave Jon the ability to believe in himself and to believe that he could do something significant despite his history.

Today, Jon is touring with Hundredfold, a band from Winnipeg, Manitoba that tours in high schools with our Absolute road teams. Jon has the opportunity to stand in front of students every day, sharing his story and his heart. Through his courage to be honest with students about racism, pain, and rejection, he is able to give them an even greater gift to hold on to: the gift of hope.

Because Gord took the time to believe in Jon, thousands of Canadian high school students have been given the chance to hear about hope. There are many youth like Jon in our schools and communities, but there are also many “Gords” - the adults who are willing to take some time out of their own lives to believe that they can make a difference. I may never meet you, Gord, but I want to say thanks for all the long hours and love you put into that youth centre. Many lives are changed because of your willingness to see the potential in someone else. You are a hero.

Absolute has the privilege to meet thousands of students across the nation each year, and each of them is unique and full of incredible potential. Many of them are like Jon and many of them just need to know that someone believes in them and they are going to get through the pain that they are feeling right now in the middle of their circumstances. You can be a part of what we do! Check out www.absolute.org to see how you can get involved.