11 PM - Christal Earle’s Blog

This past summer I went to Haiti and I witnessed first hand what paralyzing poverty looks like, what it smells like, and what it even tastes like. In Haiti, my heart was changed and my memory was etched forever with the experience. I met people who were former slaves, who were destitute and who were literally starving. In Haiti, everything took on a new perspective and my trip there helped me to better understand the needs and issues that we deal with in Dominican Republic on Hero Holiday. In Dominican Republic I have many Haitian friends, and they have moved from Haiti in hopes of a better life and in the hope of survival for their children. My Haitian friends have given me a new level to reach for in  faith, hope, and love, and they have shown me that the greatest of these truly is love.  My friend Bernard is one of those people.

Bernard has worked with Absolute as a translator in the Dominican since 2006. He is a Haitian living in DR, and he is one of my truest friends. He has impacted my life in ways he is not even aware of, as he has challenged me to love with compassion and to give unconditionally no matter the cost. Bernard grew up in Haiti, and was very poor. From the time he was 8 until he was 14, Bernard was a “restavek” in a home of a family living in Port-au-Prince. This term is really a Creole euphemism for a child slave. He told me that the people he had to serve were kind to him, but for those 6 years, they allowed him an education in school as long as he washed the car, cleaned the house, took care of the kids and did everything they demanded of him; if he did not, there were severe beatings as a consequence.  His own family couldn’t afford to care for him, so he was ‘loaned’ to this family in exchange for food, school, and many long and relentless days of child labor.

If you met Bernard today, you would never know of those times. Bernard is a man of joy, integrity, honesty, and true compassion. He is a trusted member in his community in DR, and he has become a refuge for many other kids who have experienced what he has walked through. This past summer, Absolute decided to make Bernard the recipient of one of our Hero Holiday projects. Bernard was living in a one room house and was continually taking in young men who had run away from slavery, violence, and who had been orphaned. He has spent the past 4 years volunteering in orphanages and supplementing his own income with translating, as well as sending almost all of his money back to Haiti to support his other brothers and sisters in hopes of keeping them out of slavery and exploitation. Bernard has given many of us a character value to aspire to and we are grateful for his time, his many talents, and most of all, his passion to serve and make a difference.

At the end of August, Vaden and I hosted some people from League Assets on a Hero Holiday in DR. The members of League have become a major sponsor of what we do, and because of them, much of what we do is even possible. As we showed them Bernard’s new house location, we shared with them the plan of what it is to become: Bernard wants to use this space to eventually have a safe house for young men needing some help getting on their feet, perhaps getting an education, and wants it to most of all be a place where they feel dignity, respect and hope for what they can grow into.  However, League Assets saw even more than that: they saw what could become a template for change in communities as they began to create a plan for home ownership for the desperately poor. Because of this inspiration, Bernard’s house has set off a chain of events that is leading to opening the way for more families to get homes through sweat equity, micro-finance, and many other creative and viable economic opportunities.

This home is a tribute to the lives of many people. It is a tribute to Bernard and people like him who have the courage to move past the limitations of poverty and exploitation.  It is a tribute to the many hundreds of Hero Holiday participants who have joined with us and others to become instruments of change and help to write a new history for the people we work with. And most of all, this home is a tribute to hope, because when we have hope, we have the ability to dream, and when we have the ability to dream, we have the ability to see lives changed. Thank you, Bernard. I believe in you, in what you do, and I am proud to be counted among your friends.

Fours years ago, Vaden and I were driving down a road that seemed to go nowhere: it was washed out in places, had almost no traffic except for the odd motorbike or donkey, and it had houses lined along the side of it, full of people who shyly waved at us as we rumbled along. Somewhere along that place we found a man with a  dream, and his name was Garcia…

Garcia is a musician, a husband and father, a pastor, and a man with a vision bigger than what was in front of him. He had a community back on that road that we  found ourselves on that day, and he traveled  every day of the week from his own village, Maranatha, to serve that community and help it move forward in whatever way he could.  He came to help out because he loved them and believed in them. They had a local area where they had a church, held community meetings, and one day hoped to have a school. It was  a small area, about 20 feet by 30 feet, and it was covered by four posts and a tarpaulin. All around the area, many feet out, was a trench that had been dug at one time, but was now covered in by weeds, grass and life. Five years earlier, Garcia had inspired some men in the community to dream of what a school could like in that place, and so together, they dug the trench, in hopes that someday they might see a school for their children.

In that area, we, like Garcia, saw what could be, but not yet was: a school that could change the future of the hundred plus children in that community. This is what faith and dreams are made of  and what Absolute wanted to be a part of, so the following summer, our Hero Holiday teams began to work with Garcia and the people in Arroyo Seco to accomplish this dream. It is a labor of love that has filled our lives with laughter, warm memories, huge community parties, and tearful good-byes. And in some way, it has changed us all.

This past summer, we put the finishing touches on the school. As we drove away, I looked over my shoulder and saw a bunch of children waving good bye, with Garcia and his family in the middle of the crowd, smiling and shouting out blessings…It felt good to be a part of something so incredible. Over the time that we worked in their community, over 700 Canadian teenagers and adults who joined us on Hero Holiday had witnessed the fulfillment of a dream, and it inspired us all.

Yesterday, however, I got an email with an update of what has happened in Maranatha, the community where Garcia lives. This past Friday, while many of us got together with friends and had Halloween parties, Garcia, his family, and the thousands of people that live in Maranatha, his own village, fought for their lives and homes as they faced a flash flood. Many of their homes were covered under two to five feet of water and sewage, and many of them lost every last earthly possession that they had. Garcia and his family lost most of their possessions, but managed to salvage some valuable items such as beds and food. However, the local grocery store, where many of them were only able to buy their supplies on credit, was swept away and food is scarce.  Like so many of the world’s poor, they are now forced to rebuild their lives and start over…at the beginning.

Why is life so blatantly unjust? Why do the poor always keep losing, and the rich get drunk on the excess of the world? How is it that our governments can find trillions of dollars to bail out multi-national companies in a financial crunch and still manage to employ hundreds of thousands of people at salaries that keep growing, and yet many of the world silently slips away and struggles moment by moment to exist? What is my part in all of this? How do I live my life in light of what I know to be true both here and there?

I don’t have all the answers, I just have a conviction that I can’t give up: I can’t stop doing what I know I am called to do, and I MUST NOT quit just because things seem difficult where I am at.

So, Garcia, when I see you again, I will tell you this in person, but until then, I will put it in black and white: you are a great inspiration and friend, and your struggle is my struggle, and we are linked by a common faith and purpose that is deeper than culture, skin color and economics. I will continue to pray for you and will do what I can to help ease the burden. You and your family have done so much for a community, their children, and their future, and now it is time for a community of people to do something for you.

If you would like to help us get some money to Garcia and his family, please email me and I will let you know what you can do.

Hey Everyone!

We love what we do: we get to travel, see the country, create change and bring hope. We also love to be able to pass on cool info that we think students might benefit from…this is one of those moments:

Ashoka’s Youth Venture, recently launched in Canada, is proud to announce their first global competition to recognize and support young changemakers worldwide.

If you know young people with IDEAS or existing PROJECTS for change, please encourage them to enter the Staples Youth Social Entrepreneurship Competition by October 15, 2008.

The various prizes include seed funding to implement their ideas, a free trip to attend the next Youth Venture Summit in the U.S., and special opportunities involving MTV and Nike for environment and sports-related projects.

For more info, check out changemakers.net

It was the last day of the final trip of the summer in Dominican Republic. I woke up with great expectations of finishing this trip with excellence and enjoying the community party to the max. However, the sky did not look promising, and I was trying hard not to stress about the what if’s: What if I forgot something? What if it rains? What if no one shows up at our party? Worse yet - what if no one can get to  our party and we just blew all that money on the two roasted pigs and all the rice and beans? But, there was absolutely nothing we could do about it, so we just watched and waited.

When the time came for the party to start, it was pouring rain. So, because of this, we decided to go ahead with the party anyways! As we were trekking up with steep mountain roads towards the village we were hosting the party in, I was reminded of how this location ever came to be for us. Last summer, at the beginning of August, in the last days of her short life, we met a little girl named Danica. Danica’s life was lost to a totally preventable disease. She was 18 months old and was stateless, too poor to be helped in time, and basically abandoned. Her death rocked us to our core, and it actually was what provided the inspiration for the clinic that our friends, Phil and Donna Williams, have built in her name. It is called Danica’s Clinic and it is a clinic of hope in a poor community where health care is often a pipe dream and rarely attainable. Danica’s Clinic now provides this community and the surrounding area with a compassionate doctor and quality health teaching, and a stocked pharmacy, and all this is made possible because of people like the ones that joined us on this particular Hero Holiday. Because of all of this, this community seemed like the perfect community to celebrate friendship and solidarity…and really,  what says “I love you” better than a couple of roasted pigs?

As we pulled up and fishtailed up the mud hill beside the clinic in the pouring rain, I smiled as we saw a group of young boys out in the rain playing percussion on the five gallon pails and with a stick…it was festive, if not soggy! After spending the first two minutes trying to not get wet, we all gave up and stood in the rain and laughed. This is what memories are made of! Our roasted pigs were skillfully chopped up with a machete by Garcia, one of the our Dominican friends, and some rice, beans, and casava finished off the menu. Within moments, word had spread far and wide that we were serving the meal, and people came hurrying up the hill through the mud and sludge to get their meals. We set up a sound system and just began to celebrate life and love and friendship, and it was a beautiful thing to behold! Children laughed and danced and sang with the music, and many of our team laughed and danced right alongside of them.

In my mind, I had fully believed that by some stroke of divine intervention the rain would eventually stop and we would have a little time to just stand outside, but it never did. In fact, it only seemed to rain harder and harder the longer we stayed there. However, that meant little in a moment like this where for just a short time you can indulge in the gift of great food, great company, and great entertainment!

To all the Danica’s Dream Team, I would like to say, “Thank you”. You made that party a success, and your gifts made that clinic possible. The world needs people like you to do things like this. Thank you for giving of your time, your talents, your passion, and your love.  I think a little girl would be very proud of you right now…

This trip with our Hero Holiday nursing and medical students has been non-stop learning, understanding, and memories. Each day I joke with the teams that it is just another day at the office as we march through mud, walk on trails through the jungle to get to the garbage dump, we hand out food to people and watch kids eat pizza for the first time, we paint and mix cement by hand, and we see countless patients through our clinics…quite the office environment if you ask me Today we were out at the garbage dump, working among the people, and something happened that caused me to stop and think…

There were about 20 of us at the garbage dump today working with the people there who collect bottles for income and scrounge for food and provision. We are honored to be able to work alongside them, even if it is for such a short time. Today, while working, Smith, my translator and friend, walked toward me, laughing, and said, “I have to tell you what the people there are talking about. They have a theory on Creation, and I thought you might be interested to hear it: they say that when God made people, He had two piles, one with paper and the other with sand. The paper was white people like you, and the sand was people like the Haitians. The paper gets to learn and grow and become something else, but the sand has to work hard and nothing ever seems to change.” I stopped walking and looked at him. “Is that really how they see it? Do they really think that it is because of my skin color that I can move ahead?” Smith, who is Haitian, said, “People have no answers for their hurt and hard times, and it just seems like it would be easier to be you.”

This afternoon, some of the participants joined me as we brought out rice, beans, and oil to our friends in the village that work at the dump. As we pulled up, it started to rain really hard, so we jumped out of the car and followed them to where it was out of the rain to get organized for delivering the food. We ran under a tiny tin roof on a porch that was held up by sugar cane stalks, and everyone followed us. So here we were:  4 Canadians  and  about  55 Haitians jammed together listening to the rain pound on the tin roof. I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden the hilarity of the situation struck me and I couldn’t stop laughing as chickens were dodging our feet (I guess they didn’t like the rain either) a dog was leaning up against me, a little boy was holding my hand, and I watched our translator wrestle with a Winnie the Pooh umbrella (that someone handed him) that wouldn’t open and probably was a ‘treasure’ from the dump. Just another Saturday at the office, I guess! To the people that lived there, this was life as normal, with the exception of a few extra Canadian faces in the mix. As I kept looking at my watch and wishing the stupid rain would finish because I had other places that I needed to get to before the day was out, they patiently waited in the rain for the food that they desperately needed to feed their families. We really do live worlds apart in so many ways, and I could really learn a few things from these amazing individuals who have lived through more than I can even comprehend.

I have to admit, I guess I can see how my friends’ theories on Creation could seem to be more real than either of us care to acknowledge. Here I am, sitting at my laptop, trying to get my work done, but knowing that in a few minutes I am going to have food, that tonight I will get sleep and be safe, and that for me, the garbage dump is a place to visit, not the place where my existence currently depends on. Nothing but mere location of birth truly separates me and them, and today, after sharing our rainstorm moment, I am even more keenly aware of it.

As we drove back from the village, the car smelled like a wet dog, but we all had a great laugh at the seemingly random moment that we just experienced with total strangers. One of the students with me in the vehicle said, “That’s it - this is definitely what I want to do with my life.”  I assumed she was referring to working with those less fortunate and experiencing change, not standing in the rain with humans, dogs and chickens all vying for dry space, and so my response to her was, “Then if this is what you want to do, I think you should definitely make it happen. This experience can not only be a memory, but it can be a major moment in your life that you will look back on as the moment that changed your way of thinking.”

So, on behalf of changed lives everywhere, I need to thank the dogs, chickens, and humans that shared today’s experience with us. You people are what make it worth it all! Thanks for making this Saturday at the office another great moment in my life where I can learn and make a memory with you. You give so much meaning and perspective to who we are and you inspire us to want to grow to be able to help you grow and move ahead as well…Thanks!

I have to be honest: it was a little hard to look her in the eye when she was pouring out her heart to me. I felt weak, helpless, and I felt the sting of injustice in a whole new level; it was as if I was seeing my life for the first time from someone else’s perspective…and I was entirely uncomfortable.

Hero Holiday DR was over, and Vaden, myself, and three others had taken the long trek to the southern border with Haiti and now found ourselves in the middle of the poorest neighbourhood in Port-Au-Prince, Haiti, the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. The area was called Cite-Soleil, and my life was changed by what happened that day. As we crossed over the foot bridge that spanned over a river of deep black sludge, human waste, and rotting garbage, I held Vaden’s hand, and tried to imagine what a place like this could look like if it didn’t look like this. In truthfulness, it was a very difficult image to conjure up in that moment. As we walked up to the group of people staring at us, she caught my eye almost immediately.

Her name was Analiecia, and she looked so tired. Her eyes were sad, her hands weathered, and her clothes looked like they were doomed to be eternally filthy. She was a single mother of 7 kids, and but it was what she said when she looked me in the eye that struck me: “We have nothing and no one cares. We watch as our children starve to death in front of us, with no hope of feeding them enough to survive. Yesterday, 15 of us put our money together to buy one pound of rice between us for our families. Why does no one care?”

I had no answer for Analiecia, only the silent tears in my eyes as I bowed my head in recognition of her intense need. I didn’t even have money on myself, as we were too scared to come into this dangerous neighbourhood with anything of value, and I wondered what it would be like if, in that moment, her eyes were mine and mine were hers. What would I see differently? What would I view as important and worth giving my life for? What would I be willing to do for what I loved?

This past month I have spent many hours and days with incredible people in a very bizarre set of circumstances. With Hero Holiday, we have the privilege of leading Canadians on a journey of self-discovery and global awareness. Through the course of time that our trips take, I am always in awe of one thing more than anything else…Everytime I hand out food, or shoes, or reach out to a hand that needs to be pulled up, I am struck by one simple truth: there is nothing except birth that has separated my hands from theirs-my eyes see life from this view purely because of where I am born, and not because of anything I could have ever done to deserve it.

Analiecia’s eyes held mine that afternoon because they were eyes that reminded me to keep going, to keep believing that something can change, to keep joining hands with those who love the poor and reach out to the exploited.

Analiecia, your eyes have told me of deep truths that I needed to be reminded of and they have stirred a compassion that is not letting me sleep at night. I can’t not become a voice for you; I can’t not see your pain as my own. I can’t not want to be changed by what I now know.

Thank you, Analiecia for having the courage to look me in the eye. It was what I needed to realize that I need to look back into yours and recognize that which I can do to begin to change things for all of us.

“What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.”
C.S. Lewis

I had seen him around the garbage dump for the past 2 years, but not thought much of it. There are a lot of faces that I see here every day that I come out to this place that has come to be a place of understanding, compassion, and friendship. Today, I saw past his scars on his eyes, past the sweat and grime, and heard the voice of the man who has impacted my life.

We pulled into the garbage dump with our team and were blown away by how much smoke there was; they were burning it off (no points for environmental friendliness there!) and wouldn’t officially allow any workers in. The dump here is huge and covers many acres of land. Normally there are about 50-60 workers picking bottles, scrounging for food and clothes, and just trying to survive. However, today, there were quietly about 7 men working behind one of the hills when we finally found them. Luke looked up from his work of trying to find some food for his family and waved when he saw me. He walked over and kissed me on the cheek. I asked him what was going on and he told me they were the only ones working today, as the rest were too scared to come for fear of the police being upset with them for being there and them being deported. Luke explained to us what that could look like for them: being immediately taken to the border and dumped off without anything to get you anywhere. Did I happen to mention that Luke himself has been here in Dominican Republic for 25 years, but because he is stateless, he has no protection for him or his family? The world can deny his existence, but after this, we know the truth.

Luke was a wealth of understanding for us as we sat on that hill and allowed understanding to direct our compassion, and today, in the middle of the stench of the garbage and the buzzing of the flies, Luke was our motivational speaker.

He spoke to us of what it is like to dream of educating your children, of being able to provide for your family, of feeling like you belong. He spoke to us of dreaming about the ability to afford simple necessities and of being treated as an equal. And then, Luke spoke to our hearts, as he told us that there is something different about the Hero Holiday groups that come out to this desolate garbage dump: they work alongside of them, and they make them feel valuable. He turned to me and told me that the workers at this garbage dump have come to value what we do to help them, and they trust us and want to welcome us into their world. Without knowing it, Luke spoke to the deep place in us that can often wonder if we are doing enough or if we are making any difference for them, and he reminded us that we have allowed them to know that they matter. Though the world may not know they exist, in our hearts and memories they are now a face, a smile, a hand stretched out to be embraced, and a dream to be cherished with hope for a better future.

Luke, the 34 year stateless Haitian man at the garbage dump has become my newest favorite motivational speaker. As I work alongside of him and the other 50+ people from his village at this garbage dump, I can only hope to make a difference, and today, Luke taught me that it starts with this simple kindness.

Thank you, Luke. I don’t know if you can even read or write, and I know you will never have the chance to read this brief tribute to who you are, but you have touched my life and sharpened my focus. You have allowed me the privilege to hear your story, and every day that I see you when I bring out the teams, I see your shy smile and am reminded of the depth of character that lies beneath.

I, too, believe in your dreams for a better tomorrow, and like you, I hope to see you succeed in all that you put your hands to. Your dreams deserve to be heard because you exist in our world, and we want to hear your voice.

There are many days in your life when you go through a routine: you get up, stumble through your morning, and get off to work, etc. Friday was not one of those days. I am here in Dominican Republic for the fourth year of Hero Holiday, and yet again, my heart has been touched and my understanding has been challenged. This year I am again taking groups of students out to the local garbage dump, where about 75 people, who are now my friends, work and spend their day trying to eek out a living by gathering the food, collecting the bottles for money, and even finding shoes and clothes. They make less than a dollar a day, and many of them are single parents, supporting many hungry children. It is in this place that we have discovered many profound lessons: we have seen the pain of poverty, felt the hurt of injustice, and experienced the anger that comes when you see your friends hurting and exploited.
As our truck pulled up, my anxious Hero Holidayers’ weren’t quite sure what to expect. We were coming out to help the workers collect bottles so that they can generate more income, but would they accept us? Would we offend them? Would we help them or get in their way? In my mind were different questions: Would it still be the same people there? And if they were, I couldn’t decide whether to just be happy to see them again, or sad that this is where they still were, and in the world in which we find ourselves the answers are not so clear.
This garbage dump is a harsh take on reality at the best of times, and in that place, I met new faces and reunited with familiar ones, and chose to just be glad to be among them and do what I could with what I had. Some people are here because they can’t even survive in Haiti-they literally have nothing but what they are wearing, and to them, they can’t understand why people like us would want to take the time to come to people like them.
But, as I watched these incredible Canadian youth that came with me that day, I was once again in awe of the beauty of compassion and solidarity. They eagerly approached the people and asked them if they could help them collect bottles, and began to spread out through the garbage dump. Through the haze and heat I could see them: side by side with the people, Nikes beside unmatched and torn shoes, gloved hands beside worn and scarred hands, eager smile reaching out to shy, bashful smile…and it was a thing of beauty.
As we later talked about the experience, there were tears and laughter as we recalled how this day helped to shift our focus and cause us to see fulfillment in a different light: the feeling of collecting enough bottles to help a single mom double her income that day, the exhilaration of being able to communicate with someone despite the language barrier, and most of all, the understanding that comes from walking in someone else’s shoes.

Finally, they had arrived…all 107 of them. We had waited all day to get to this point, and in typical style, they were 2 hours later than we had agreed upon! But, we reasoned with ourselves, the point was that they were here now!
It was the last day of our time with them, and the day before Good Friday. Our Hero Holiday team had spent the past hour hiding 1200 Easter eggs and about 150 marshmallow candies on a one acre piece of land that we were staying on. They hid them for the kids that were coming to say good-bye to us after spending 10 amazing days together. These children had impacted our lives in such an incredible and unique way that it was very difficult for us to quantify what it meant to each of us. They had taught us so much about courage, resilience, and hope- and they had taught us that you can trust again after incredible pain and tragedy. These children and their leaders had become some of our personal heroes.

When they came running down the steps to meet us on the cleared area, we were anxious as we saw the sun quickly fading and worried that we wouldn’t have enough time to finish our plans. As they sat in front of me and the translator, they were completely unaware of what I was going to tell them. For them, it was enough to be able to see us again and be together. The thought of what I was going to get to tell them even got me excited! I began to tell them about the tradition for Canadian children about hunting for hidden Easter eggs. I explained to them that this weekend, all over the world, millions of children would be doing this, and because we loved them so much, we wanted them to have the chance to do it first.
I explained to them where to look and showed them what the candy looked like, and as we handed out the little bags to collect the candies in, some of them started to quiver with excitement and anticipation! A couple of the little girls were holding and squeezing each other’s hands as they tried to contain their excitement. We counted together out loud to three, and then I yelled “Go!”.
It was mayhem! They squealed and laughed and shouted as they jumped over bushes, rolled on the grass, and dove under plants to find the candies they had been promised were there. I actually started to cry as I thought about how beautiful it was to hear them laugh and play like this, and how privileged we were to be able to do this for them.
As I was drinking in the scene of chaos and ecstatic joy, I was brought back to a little dose of bizarre reality: one of the staff at the hotel where we were doing this with the children, in an effort to try to give us some mood music and background cheering thought he would start up the giant, rusty sound system and blare the music at the maximum volume. A nice gesture…until I realized it was the Black Eyed Peas…singing ‘My Humps’!

I am currently in northern Thailand, working with an incredible Hero Holiday group that is an awesome crew of people eager to make a difference in the world in which they find themselves. Along the way, however, we are finding ourselves in the company of unsung heroes that have impacted us beyond words.

In the beginning of one or our Hero Holiday promo videos, we have a quote that says, “A hero is someone who understands the responsibility that comes with his freedom”. This quote has been ringing in my ears as we continue to meet people who are risking much to do whatever they can. We are working with volunteers and staff who willingly give up all for the sake of a child’s life, and for the sake of their safety. It is humbling and beautiful to be a part of, and it is the reality of the double edged sword that action requires when you want to make a difference.

In our North American culture, we are often lulled to sleep as we are over-stimulated with drama and sensationalism. We create our own romantic view of what the world must be like and we have a hard time grasping that our form of justice is not the justice that the rest of the world is measured by. We claim to believe that every child has the right to safety, freedom, and to be heard, yet our world often leaves the majority of our children living in fear, abandonment, exploitation and silence…is this what justice is? The children that we are working with have faced all forms of exploitation, poverty and abandonment, and yet the thing that is captivating all of us is their incredible capacity to love beyond that. The simple act of holding a small hand in trust can make all the difference in the world. The simple beauty of a smile and loving touch can change everything. My goodness, we have even learned that ice cream can change the world! Yet, despite all of these simple things, the problems that they face are beyond complex - they are astronomically overwhelming! Exploitation and slavery is so deep and multi-tentacled that it is hard to figure out where one problems stops and another one starts. Poverty would seem like it is so straightforward, but it is an insatiable beast that is continually devouring innocent lives around the world, and without us recognizing how late the hour is, it will never be stopped. In the world in which we are working right now, life is unstable on every front: the good guys often turn out to the bad guys, the police take a vow to serve and protect, and then follow through with that vow by owning the brothels and trafficking agencies that exploit the women and children, and most of the population is unaware of what is happening in front of their eyes.

Yet, in the midst of this, we work among a company of heroes: bright lights in the darkness that fight at this monster day after day, week after week, month after month. Every life saved makes it worth it. Every hope restored is precious. Every life that is given reprieve from the pain and continual oppression is valuable. It is hard work, and to make any headways at all, it will require the international community to actually care enough to be a part of the solution, rather than feeding the problem. But I believe it can be dealt with at every level and these people here have helped to solidify that belief.

These next 10 days we are working with over 100 children: we are doing English camps, helping to build some structures at the children’s homes, and even going camping with 100+ kids (yikes!). These two weeks are only really like a ‘wrinkle in time’ but these precious few days can change lives beyond what we see in front of us. So, today as I was lying awake at 5:00 AM and staring at the ceiling (jet lag sucks!) I was thinking about what a privilege it is to be alive, to be safe, and to be loved. And in the midst of all those thoughts, I felt the undeniable, unmistakable conviction that we were created to make a difference, and this is only the beginning of the possibilities!