11 PM - Christal Earle’s Blog

When her back was against the wall, Alice in Wonderland reminded herself of what her father told her: “I try to believe in six impossible things before breakfast.” In Haiti, trying to believe in six impossible things is not that hard; in fact, the options are quite limitless, as there is so much that needs to change and so much in the way of that change, sometimes simple hope and laughter can count as near impossibilities.

Port Au Prince has become a city of tents: estimates have been as high as 1.3 million people that have been sleeping in tents, with nowhere to go. Tents fill every park, spill onto sidewalks, even line the medians in the battered city streets. Not only are people homeless, they are without water, medical care, and virtually without hope. One more little cluster of tents doesn’t seem like that big of a deal to people. And although numbers represent individual lives, it is really hard to separate the two, until you experience the difference for yourself.

Down a long, dusty road just outside the city lies a little haven that you would miss unless you knew what you were looking for. It is called Rêve Timoun, which in Créole means “Children’s Dream”, and for the 34 young lives that currently call it home it is exactly that. It may not look like much to you: a barren, square chunk of land with a central makeshift tarp shelter with rough wooden benches that is surrounded by little Coleman tents clinging to the ground as they defy the endless wind, sun, and inevitable rain. This past week when our Hero Holiday team pulled up to the Rêve Timoun property, they thought they were ready for whatever they encountered: pain, loss, extreme poverty. But instead, they experienced the unexpected: passionate singing, intense laughter, heartfelt affection, and warm memories.

The Hero Holiday group had come to this property prepared for fun with soccer balls, skipping ropes, various gifts for each child, and best of all, balloons. But not just any balloons - these were balloons that were ready to be filled with water and wreak havoc and induce violent fits of laughter. After their introduction of singing and hugs and struggling to fill the balloons with water in a place that had no running water to begin with, the team lined up the kids to face each other. Armed only with a water balloon, they began their battle, testing each other’s skills of focus and pure energy. As the war broke out, the screams of sheer joy and excitement filled the air. One of the little girls, probably about 4 years old, was so overwhelmed with excitement and incapacitated with laughter that she was unable to focus long enough to even throw the balloon. Finally after a three or four minute struggle and with some help from a teammate she threw the balloon and squealed with delight as her opponent retaliated. This was the most excitement they had ever had on this property and they wanted to the experience to last forever.

At the end of the day, everyone who stood on that sun scorched property were able to believe in more than six impossible things, because they were surrounded by 34 impossible hopes. Each child represented incredible impossibilities: having already survived the deadliest natural catastrophe in global history, they made it to this safe place.  Despite near starvation and exploitation before they arrived here, they now faced life without parents or family. Each one of these young lives had been in the clutches of death and now here they stood, embracing all that life had for them that day.

Rêve Timoun cannot offer the children much in terms of material comforts - they currently live in tents, sleep on donated yoga mats, and eat and have school under a tattered tarp - but as cliché as it may sound, they truly do have incredible depths of love and support. The staff of volunteers who live and sleep on the same property provide them with love, protection and the ability to continue to believe in the impossible: a life with a good future. And together with our Hero Holiday participants and all of our supporters, Absolute is privileged to believe with them for that future…because they are worth it.

To find out more about our Hero Holiday trips to Haiti, check out www.heroholiday.com. You can help us to help them by donating to our Hero Holiday projects at www.absolute.org/donate. Together we can believe in the impossible!

Jaachide, Leader of the Silent Heroes

It is hard to describe what a city full of rubble, tents, and pain looks like but it is even harder to describe how it feels. The continual view of destruction and loss is painted with the smell of the daily, relentless struggle to survive. After a while it can begin to feel like you are floating in a sea of grey cinderblocks, twisted rebar, bright tent tops, pollution and smoke, But you aren’t - you are living and walking among people who have experienced more loss than you can wrap your mind around, more pain than you care to dwell on, and a daily wrestle with survival.

The city sounds and sights began to fade as we headed down that long country road toward a small, virtually obscure tent town of another kind. As we got out of the truck and walked across the little makeshift bridge over the stream we didn’t know what to expect. Despite the heat, the wind, the dry air and the flapping tent covers, there they stood - waving, smiling and singing their hearts out. There are 34 of them now at this site and all 34 of them are without a possession in the world. But here they are safe, they are loved and they are given hope to heal and dream about tomorrow.

Many of the children at Rêve Timoun are earthquake orphans. Some of them are there because their parents had to give them up, most of them lost both parents on January 12th, and all of them are without a home to return to. But they aren’t without hope or love, and that is perhaps what sets them apart as the lucky ones. As we introduced ourselves to the staff and the children, shouts of excitement erupted when they discovered the soccer ball, the cookies and the Coca Cola that we had in tow. It seemed like a humble offering on our part, but for them it broke up the monotony of another day and brought treats that they rarely had the opportunity to enjoy.

Jaachide came forward and shook our hands, welcoming us to their new home. Jaachide didn’t lose his family in the earthquake, nor did he lose his home. He saw a need and realized he had nothing to lose - only everything to gain. He is the director of this tiny tent city of 34 kids and 10 adults and all that he does is full of a grace that is matched only by kindness.

Before the earthquake Jaachide was an administrator in a church in Croix du Bouquet, on the outskirts of Port Au Prince. He had a secure job that was Monday to Friday. His time was his own and his space was his own. It was a simple life, but it was his. When the orphans began to trickle into Kay Papa Nou, run by his brother in law, David, Jaachide woke up one morning and realized where he needed to be. Jaachide gave up his job, his home and all of his personal conveniences to live among these kids and the workers, in a Coleman tent that is blue with a grey tarp. Here he helps to provides education, direction and a father figure for children who need him.

Sitting with him outside his tent, I asked him why he would do this. You know what he said? He said, “These children are hurting. Many of them still cry because they miss their parents, their home and what they used to know. Some days all we can do is offer them love, affection and hope. They need to know that they have a place where they belong and where they are safe.”

The sun was burning my feet and the wind was making my hair into a crazy tangled mess, but all I could feel were the tears that ran down my face as I sat there, absorbing the level of pain that had been met with an intense level of compassion and in that moment I was humbled. On that barren field we were among children who were learning to laugh again, and always they were surrounded by a small, committed army of silent heroes.

And we had the chance to stand among them.

The staff at Rêve Timoun live, eat and sleep in the tents with the children. They have set up a small school on their property and the children are continually reminded that they are not forgotten. They sleep four to a tent, with an adult in each one. Personal space or belongings really don’t exist, but together they survive and together they are learning how to move past survival into a future of hope.

Currently, Absolute is in Haiti for our first Hero Holiday. We believe it will be the first of many. To find out more on how to get involved, go to the Hero Holiday page at www.heroholiday.com. If you would like to help us to continue to help the children of Haiti, please go to www.absolute.org/donate and designate it to Haiti Hero Holiday.

Christian thought it was going to just be another long shift at that hotel desk. It seemed like a pretty good gig for a musician who was trying to raise the money for another album recording. His band, The Someone, was hoping to be able to get the finances together quickly in this small, northern Alberta oil city. They were working there to make money and move on.

Like most people that have had to make split second decisions, Christian wasn’t expecting what would happen that night. Working at the front desk of this small hotel meant many long hours with little excitement. So when they first walked in, he thought it was odd to see, but didn’t think much more of it. It was three guys and a young girl, about 14 or 15 years old. She was dressed up way too much and out way too late. They walked past the front desk and down the hallways towards one of the hotel rooms.

Two hours later, when he looked up from the desk, it was now early in the morning and the hotel was dead quiet. No one was moving anywhere, and that is why it shocked him so much to see her standing there. She was scared, she had been crying, and she was wrapped up in a sheet. She didn’t know where she was and she didn’t know where else to turn. Christian did what he could to calm her down as he called 911. It was the middle of the winter in Northern Alberta, so without a second thought he wrapped his jacket around her as the police showed up to take her somewhere safe. As it all calmed down and he was left there in the aftershock of everything he had just witnessed the reality of what had happened sank in. He had just witnessed something that millions of women and children around the world are subject to endlessly - exploitation. And it wasn’t ok. He wasn’t ok with being silent about it - he had to be a voice.

Shortly after that night, The Someone Band finished up their album and moved to Hamilton, Ontario to tour with Absolute. As a band their goal is to reach students with the message that their lives are valuable and that they matter. As an individual, Christian is sure of what he wants his life message to be. Throughout our Absolute Think Day presentations, different team members are able to share their personal stories and when he steps on the stage, he is a man on a mission. He shares that experience, and he encourages young women that they are not objects. They do not have to stay silent when they have experienced abuse, and they are worth more. It’s the message that many girls need to hear, because silence can hold them captive in pain and shame. And that is injustice.

No one knows what led that girl to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, what lies she believed, or how she was coerced. The only thing anyone can know is that she was one of the lucky ones to walk away and to live in a place where there could be safety and help. She needed someone like Christian working at that front desk that night. Someone who was willing to care.

Compassion happens in many shapes and forms and we never know when we will be given the opportunity to let it shine in our lives and choices. Christian’s story is one that challenges the common thought in our world: that it’s ok to look the other way. It’s not. As he stands there and encourages victims to get help, he also challenges others to open up their eyes and see what is happening around them, because each of us can make the difference between life and death.

Absolute’s Think Day presentation is not just about motivating teenagers to make good choices - it’s about pushing them to think about the value and power of their lives and their decisions. That each one of us can change the world, starting where we are at today.

To find out more about how to get Absolute’s Think Day into your local high school, how to get involved, or how to help us do what we do better and reach more students, please check out www.absolute.org.

She had the most beautiful eyes and smile that he could never forget. He had already connected with a few of the other kids there, joking and playing, and always she was there, hanging at the back of the group, sticking her hand out and trying to give him a high five. Living on the fringe, always the one looking in, wondering what it is like on the other side.

Adam was there to help our Hero Holiday staff prepare for our upcoming group, working alongside of the orphanage staff for what was about to happen. She showed up at the orphanage driveway with the other 29 kids that had been collected from a nearby tent city on the outskirts of Port Au Prince. All of them either orphaned or abandoned. She looked to be between three and four years old and like all of the other kids, she was scared and traumatized, not knowing where she was and what was next. Only unlike the other kids, she was always on the outside of the circles, hanging on the fringes. For some reason that none of the adults could understand, the other girls didn’t take to her. But Adam had noticed her.

As days went by we started joking around more and I noticed that she hadn’t bonded closely to many other children. Wherever there are groups of kids there are always groups of friends, and in those groups there is always the one kid who is hanging out on the fringes. Sometimes they are in on the fun, but mostly they are excluded. That was her - trying so much to hang out with some of the older girls but never being accepted.
This broke my heart because growing up that was my story: in high school that was me. There were a group of guys that I thought were the coolest kids ever and I would try to hang out with them, but if the car was full it was me who got excluded, if someone was to be made fun of, it was me.
When I saw this happening to her I saw myself. Granted she is much younger, but it was the same thing. The only difference was, at the end of the day I went home to a family who loved and supported me. She doesn’t have that. Her parents gave her to Kay Papa Nou and they have no intention of coming back and finding her.

From that day on I had my eye on her, watching her, laughing with her. I would be the one to notice her - at least for now. The day that everything shifted was the day we were going out to the field with David (the head of Kay Papa Nou) and the BBC news reporters who were coming to highlight the new tents that had been donated for the children. As I hopped over the creek onto the property she was standing there. She waited for me to cross the stream and then reached for my hand. After a while I picked her up and was walking around with her. We sat down and I could tell she was so overwhelmed with everything she was seeing: kids everywhere, news reporters, tents, possibly dreaming about a new home? In one week she had been left by her parents, was dropped off at Kay Papa Nou and now was possibly going to be calling this new tent city her home. As I sat with her in the field, older kids came and teased her. That’s when I got this overwhelming feeling of protection for her - I didn’t want her to ever feel unloved again.
The next day I knew it was time to get ready to leave, but getting ready to say goodbye was difficult. She sat on the ground and didn’t move. I tried everything to make her laugh, but it wouldn’t work. So I picked her up and we sat on a chair in David’s office. As she put her head into my chest and fell asleep in my arms I just held her and didn’t want to let go - ever. I wanted her to know that she mattered to me. I want to work to make her world safe and filled with love.

Although she looked to be about 3 and a half, when Adam asked her how old she was she said she didn’t know. And when he asked her what her name was, all she could manage in her little girl lisp was “Lo-ee-a”. Gloria.

Will we be able to make a place in the world for the Glorias that are out there? Will their voice be heard and their lives remembered? They need to know what it is to be celebrated, to be cherished and to be made a priority. There is hope for them because there is hope for each one of us. Hero Holiday is returning to the children’s home in two weeks, and when we get there we will work to make Gloria’s world safe and secure and we will work to help each one of those kids know that together they are stronger and that each of them matters.

Your voice can be added to Gloria’s. Your life can make a difference. To find out more about how to get involved with Hero Holiday in the areas that we work in, please check out www.absolute.org. We need your help to do what we do because together we are stronger. If you would like to help us do more, check out www.absolute.org/donate.

“Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be.”~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

He was about 13 when they first met him, working on the streets in Mae Sai, Thailand. Not unlike the other kids hanging around the border crossing, he was a drug smuggler - by necessity, not by choice.

His family had 12 kids, and their mother was their only support. Although their dad was around, he seemed to be continually strung out on opium for as long as he can remember and when he came down, it was not pretty. His mom worked day and night to try to support the family and it was a losing battle. This was all that Aung knew, but life on the streets did have it’s upsides such as freedom to say and do what you wanted without perceived responsibility. Maybe his life looked bleak from our point of view, but from where he sat, it was all that he knew and sometimes there is a weird and twisted comfort in knowing that you are hurting and dysfunctional. It can be scary to leave the familiar.

Sitting down on the steet with him one day, JK and Kru Nam offered Aung a way out. Because he couldn’t read or write, they told him if he got out of drugs they would help him get an education. They didn’t even know if he would be willing to take it, but thankfully, he reached out and took their offer. That was step one.

That one step changed everything. Aung became immersed in a world he didn’t even know existed: a world of possibilities and hope. As he began to realize what education can do, he became hungry to learn and to do something significant with his life. He needed something to live for that was meaningful. While he settled into the rhythm of life at the drop-in centre and the children’s home, he wanted to show how thankful he was for this chance to start over. He became the first to volunteer to help and the one that everyone could depend on. He became a new person - or maybe it was just that he started to transform into who he was meant to be all along.

But, like most things in life, change has a price tag. As Aung approached 17, he needed to find a job. JK began to walk the city streets with him, searching for employment and a new place to live. Finally, after many days, they found someone who was willing to take a risk on a Burmese kid who was a former drug runner. It became his chance to prove himself where it really counted.

Today, Aung goes to school each morning, continuing his education, and works afternoons and evenings. He has his own apartment and he is able to send home money to his mother to help her with the burden of the family back in Burma, working to help his other siblings get out of the traps of poverty and exploitation. Aung is into hip hop and has a following of admirers at the boys’ home who he helps to mentor. They have watched his success and want to grow up to be like him: someone who is making a difference. Aung’s goal today is to own his own restaurant and provide opportunities for other kids from the foundation to come and work for him and have the same kind of opportunities that he has had.

Sometimes change is hard to embrace. Even pain can become familiar when it is all you know and to step out of that to the unknown can seem too scary and intimidating. But what, really, did Aung have to lose by taking a chance in trusting someone to help him that had already proven to hundreds of other people that change is possible? Not much to lose really, but he had everything to gain.

Aung’s success is due to his own hard work and the persistence of JK in helping him. JK and the staff at VCDF (www.vcdf.org) are able to do what they do through the support of many friends around the world. Some of those friends have joined us on Hero Holiday in Thailand. When I asked JK how they manage to do what they do in Thailand, he simply said, “There is a lot of power in a passionate life.” Enough said.

To find out more about how to make a difference in Thailand, check out www.heroholiday.com.

Author’s Note: JK couldn’t tell me his name, so I choose to call him Aung. He is Burmese, and ‘Aung’ in Burmese means to succeed. If I was Burmese, that is what I would want my name to mean too.

As I type out these words, it is pouring rain all around me. I am sheltered from the rain and yet I breathe in the dampness and feel the thick air of humidiity that accompanies a downpour. Port Au Prince is 136 miles to the south of where I am sitting right now, and I am guessing that today, like me, they are feeling soggy. But the difference today is that one million of those people have nothing to keep them from the rain except - if they are lucky - a tent tarp. And if they are among the even more fortunate, they are with family and friends.

Tragedy is somehow lessened when we are comforted by family, or at the very least, close friends. Knowing you are loved somehow helps to lessen the jagged cut that runs deep into our souls, our emotions, even our spirits when our world falls apart. But what happens when there is no way for you to know you are loved? No way for you to understand that your life matters, that you are not just a problem to take care of or a life to exploit? What is life like without the knowledge, the tangible evidence that you belong?

Two weeks ago, when Cole got back to the orphanage compound in Port Au Prince, it was late. He was tired, hungry, overwhelmed. As he walked through the gates into the property, he was ready to get to his pail of clean water, wash up and crawl into the tent that he had set up earlier in the day to return to. But to his surprise and their mutual confusion, there were 30 new, dirty and scared little humans laying side by side on rough, woolen blankets on the dirt ground around his tent. Not exactly an encouraging welcome party! Asking around the compound, he learned that they had just arrived from a nearby tent town, each of them either orphaned, abandoned, or without hope of parental provision. All of them confused and scared, yet not a single one of them crying or making a fuss. Some of them were trying to sleep, and some just sat and stared straight ahead, too overwhelmed to yet process where they were.
They were brought here because although there was scant resources available, at least they were safe, tucked away from child traffickers, sexual predators, and other street violence. They may be without basic necessities right now, but at least they are together and in a place where they are wanted and loved. In this home that Absolute helps to support through Hero Holiday, hope still lives on. Though many days it may be fragile and precarious, it can still be felt and it can still be shared.

In the middle of the crowd of new faces was a little boy, probably about 7 years old, holding on to a child-sized suitcase. As he opened it up, Cole couldn’t help but notice the contents inside: one pair of pants, one t-shirt, and a water botttle of milk. As the little boy pulled the precious bottle of milk out of the suitcase, he did the unexpected. He did what adults often fail to remember to do and children seem to never forget: he turned to the other little boys around him and willingly shared his treasure. This is not what he would have chosen as a family now, but nevertheless, it is the family he now finds himself in. And families are meant to share their resources, look after each other and stick together. And around that little boy were 29 more reasons to hang on and make it through to tomorrow.

There have been many promises made to Haiti in the hopes of recovery, and time will tell if it will come to pass. But in Absolute, we recognize that each of us can do what we can with what is in our own hands. We are hosting our first Hero Holiday to Haiti in May, with the hopes of many more to follow. Though the current trip is filled up, the need is great. If you would like to help us help them, please donate at www.absolute.org/donate and specify Haiti Hero Holiday.

As well, this summer we still have openings left for our Dominican Republic and Mexico trips in July and August. To find our more, go to www.heroholiday.com. You belong here!

“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much a heart can hold.” ~ Zelda Fitzgerald

Author’s Note: This week, as I wrote this 52, all I could see in the photos, the stories, and the voice that came through were they eyes of my daughter. She is Haitian and like these children, she had been orphaned. When you see life through the eyes of love, you are never the same, and when you realize that there are stories behind each face, you can’t turn away and forget. Absolute’s best selling book, ONE: A FACE BEHIND THE NUMBERS is available on our website. It is an excellent resource for understanding how to not only look at the statistics of what is happening around us, but to hear the stories and see the faces that are making the difference. Check it out at www.one.absolute.org. It is available online and through chapters.ca and amazon.ca. All proceeds go to helping us help others.

On the other side of the world, as I type this and as you read these words, there are some people writing history in a capacity we can only imagine. Day after day, they love. Through the good, the bad and the very ugly, they choose love. Because love is the only thing that is strong enough to reach into those places, the only thing strong enough to pick people up and help them move on. They are quiet, dedicated heroes whose actions have challenged many of us to ask ourselves, ” What would I be wiling to give?”

In all honesty, if you are Canadian, the concept of compassion may not fully infiltrate your conscious thought. Compassion. One word that means so much. To some, it is a symbol of a child on their kitchen fridge door- a monthly commitment they value and look at with pride and hope. For some, it is reaching out to the hungry, the hurting, the lost. To others, it means giving what you can monetarily or even with your time. That’s fair. It should mean all of those things.

But in our world of consistent, affordable healthcare, affordable insurance, honorable civil servants and well-paid practitioners, compassion may not be fully understood. When we see an accident on the side of the road, we stop. After all, we are compassionate, right? We help because we care - but we also help because it is the “right” thing to do. It may cost us time, energy and emotional distress to help out someone in need, but when that ambulance arrives we don’t worry about being the ones that have to pay for it, or the hospital stay that will ensue. When our social net shows up or kicks in to take over with someone less fortunate, we are relieved because we know it will be taken care of. We only worry about the important stuff like everyone being ok. This is a luxury that we, the rich of the world, enjoy - the ability to be “compassionate” without too many strings attached.

Picture this: you are a young child. Very young. Too young to be anywhere by yourself let alone locked in that room with strange, cruel men coming and going, doing inexplicable things to young children. Things that you can’t even bear to think about. Hour after hour, day after day, you are victimized, brutalized, humiliated and exploited. You can’t remember home, and it is gettting harder and harder to remember your mother’s smile. Every time you try to conjure it up, you only see pain, betrayal, loss. Will anyone ever find you? Will anyone ever come to rescue you? Is there ever going to be life beyond these four walls again? Will you ever be able to learn how to write your name, how to play with a simple toy, how to be a part of a family again? Can you even remember what it is to be treated with kindness? Imagine what happens when one day that door opens, and compassion walks in.

This is the story of many of the little faces we have loved, the hands that we have held and the laughter we have joined in with on our Hero Holiday Thailand trips. They are able to laugh and trust again because some incredible people have embraced compassion at the core of what it can be: to risk all for the sake of love. Many of the workers in this area have helped to rescue these 100+ kids from sexual slavery and exploitation. They have loved when it cost them much and they have paid a high price for that love. The cost has come in monetary value, living conditions, even heartbreak. In this place, compassion is without judgment, bias, or fear. It loves when it knows love may end in heartbreak and it loves in the hopes of a successful outcome. These men and women are leading the way, behind the scenes, in the homes that we support there and where we have the honor of working. Some of them have been rescued from the same horrors that they are now fighting, some of them have come from far away because they believe in a better future for children that the world does not even know exists, and some of them work there because they know their voice and their hands can work toward change.

And every time I work alongside of them and experience the power of seeing lives changed at the grassroots level where we come to help, I am forced to look in the mirror and ask myself, “What would I be willing to give?” It’s an incredible place to be.

You can join us this August in Thailand - it’s not too late to change your summer plans! Why not invest two weeks of your life in bringing hope and love to lives that are desperate to understand it? Check out our Thailand trips at www.heroholiday.com

I would rather feel compassion than know the meaning of it. ~ Thomas Aquinas

One tiny little movement, practically imperceptible to the human eye, so slight you would hardly feel it and yet so powerful you would never believe what it is capable of accomplishing. One day it was shy and unsure of itself, the next day it was beautiful, liberated and secretly powerful. That’s kind of what the “Butterfly Effect” is like.

When you meet her you would never guess how she ended up there, arriving at a place where few would have chosen; yet it is here that she is planted and making a difference. Roxy has a smile that is disarming and a demeanour that is gentle and inviting. Always open and non-judgmental, she immediately puts people at ease. You would never have guessed at where she has come from or what brought her to that place, because you would only see the outcome today.

A freak accident changed it all. Diagnosed with epilepsy at a young age, Roxy was always careful of her surroundings, as epilepsy is no respecter of time, location or dignity. But she never considered it would happen like this. She was 15 and their family had just moved into their new home, and she was about to take a bath. As she stepped into the tub, a grand mal seizure hit. But as it came on, Roxy’s limbs hit the hot water tap that had not yet been adjusted for temperature safety. As the seizure took over, Roxy unknowingly slid deeper into scalding water, and as it dragged on, so did the irreversible damage to nearly half of her body. As she emerged from the seizure, pain engulfed her. Within moments she found herself hospitalized, a victim of third degree burns. As the days wore on and the healing process seemed to never come, depression began to set in. Life would never be the same and she would always live with the emotional pain of shame at her appearance, feeling as if no one would ever see past it. Finally, one day, unable to deal with it anymore, Roxy’s mom confronted her with a choice: to allow her pain to determine her future or to embrace what her life can become. Somehow, she chose life and she chose to live past where circumstance had left her. That was when the butterfly effect began. No one else may have noticed it at first, but the change had been started nonetheless.

The term “Butterfly Effect” refers to the small change that can happen in the atmosphere that can ultimately determine weather patterns or prevent them. Something as small as the wings on a butterfly can be enough to cause a chain of events with huge consequences. That day in that hospital, Roxy’s life experienced the butterfly effect: by making one choice to see past her circumstance, she began a chain of events that has led to countless lives being touched and changed by hope and inspiration. After finishing high school, Roxy joined Absolute’s leadership development program and never looked back. She began to share her story with youth across Canada and began to envision what life can look like beyond pain and disappointment. It has been a long, unpredictable road, but it has always been worth it. Along with her husband, Brett, she is currently helping to give leadership at our School of Leadership base in Mexico. Here she gives direction, mentorship and encouragement to our students and to the numerous students that join us in Mexico for Hero Holiday.

Roxy’s life is the reflection of hope that we are about in Absolute. And like any large movement that can change life as we know it, it started with one tiny choice, one simple flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

You can bring Absolute to your local high school! Our Think Day presentation is currently touring across Canada and we want to partner with schools to bring this message of hope and let students know that change is possible. To find out more about what Think Day is about, our School of Leadership, or how to get involved in what we do, check out www.absolute.org.

Perhaps you know someone like this: no matter what they do or what predicament they find themselves in, life just seems to be taken in stride for them. They make it look so easy. Other people in the same situation may be freaking out, melting down, or running away. But not this person; they have what it takes to stick with it. They have sprezzatura. This old Italian word basically means, “Don’t let them see you sweat.” It’s where everything seems to be almost effortless, yet it always works out. Kru Nam is my Thai picture of sprezzatura.

The first time I sat down to talk with Kru Nam, we were on the bamboo-slat floor of a rickety shack on thicker bamboo poles, in the middle of a bare patch of land. With each movement we made, the bamboo floor stretched and groaned underneath us, threatening to let go under the weight of all of us. Beside me, Vaden nervously held his breath, fully aware that his 250 pounds was the biggest reason for the bamboo’s objections! That land and that little shack were nothing to look at if you are only capable of seeing what is in front of you. But we didn’t see it with our eyes that day - we saw it with our hearts as Kru Nam painted a picture for us of what freedom could look like for the 100+ kids that they had rescued off the streets and out of brothels. On that dry little patch of land, far away from the eyes and reaches of predators, traffickers and corrupt law enforcement, they could create a place of safety, a place of hope, and a haven of love. At the time that we met them all, they were seeking out an existence with these orphans in a two-story storefront building. Meals were never taken for granted and every baht (Thai Currency) was tightly accounted for. They had nothing but love, hope, and a dream - and an incredible dose of sprezzatura!

As we sat there that day, we joined our dreams with hers of how Absolute could help and of what this could look like. Kru Nam pulled out the plans for the homes that they were believing they could build on that land, and we began to see it all take shape right in front of us. These homes would mean more than we could ever dream for these kids and the staff that worked with them. They would have room to play and be kids in, they would have access to clean water, they would have an office which they could set up and begin to reach out to the world around them in. After that afternoon, we were returning to Canada with a goal: to rally the troops and get them some help. And we were able to do it: through the help of Absolute, the Not For Sale Campaign, and a few other international organizations, money and resources were raised to start the project.

One year later we returned with our Hero Holiday team and we weren’t quite prepared for what was there when we pulled up to the property: new, beautiful and clean buildings sat proudly on the property, laughing kids danced around our truck, waving excitedly for us to come see their new home, and in the midst of all of them, Kru Nam and her staff stood there beaming at us, waving us on. I was in awe of how far they had come and I said so to Kru Nam right after I hugged her hello. She smiled, as usual, and calmly said, “Yes, we have come a long way this year.” Despite much opposition, being taken advantage of by corrupt officials, money and resources being continually stolen from them by construction workers and other people as they attempted to get settled in their new place, and the heartbreak of losing some kids back to the streets and to sickness, they were still standing and they weren’t going anywhere. Still, they stood there that day, welcoming us with grace and poise to their new home - their new home that had cost them everything and would continue to be full of healing and heartbreak every day. They stood there with sprezzatura, and as I watched them in action, it made me want to try a little harder, work a lot smarter and reach a lot more lives.

Kru Nam and her staff stand as beacons of light in very dark place in Northern Thailand. Every day there are hurdles to overcome, unexpected predicaments and often heartbreak, but through love and determination, they work with each one of the kids they harbour to live a life of recovery and wholeness. This is love at the grassroots and it is vital to the future of our global family. This August, Absolute’s Hero Holiday program will be returning to Thailand to help Kru Nam, her staff, and the incredibly inspiring kids that they love and work with, both on the streets and in their homes. We would love to have you join us! Check out http://heroholiday.absolute.org/thailand to find out more about how you can join us on the experience of a lifetime!

Human rights are not always something that you or I think about very often. Most of us live and work in a world where we never really have to consider how they affect our lives: we take many privileges for granted and in our thinking, they are natural, not something to be fought for. However, for many of our friends around the world, human rights are something they have fought for, sacrificed for, and have welcomed support for; especially when it comes to their kids.

The first Declaration on the Rights of a Child was accepted by the League of Nations in 1923. With the basic premise that every child has the right to education, healthcare, security and a home, it was received by the world as the basis for the hope of children everywhere. Great in theory…much more difficult in practice. Too often, governments can overlook those that need the help the most; it is easier to pretend sometimes that our help isn’t needed. Absolute experienced something really refreshing in Mexico this year. We saw how government can help if they choose to, and we saw how simple it can be to offer a disabled child dignity and hope - even when many things seem hopeless.

Stefany is a Mexican social development worker in San Quentin. According to Absolute staff, she is the kind of social worker that will drive to your shack at one in the morning if you need her to. Because of her amazing dedication, she is well-respected among the poor, and she is always in the loop of who needs help. That’s how we found out about Misael.

Misael shared a bedroom in a friend’s house with his mom, Juana, his sister, Wendy, and his on-again-off-again dad. Two months before we met Misael, he lost his leg in a motorbike accident with his dad. A drunk driver crashed into them, crushing Misael’s foot and resulting in a rapid infection that led to amputation above the knee. The young family needed someone to believe in them and they needed that belief to result in tangible help.

Absolute made a deal with the government: if they would provide the land for Juana and her family, we would provide the house. Misael deserved the right to have his childhood back. Without any possibilities of trauma counseling or otherwise, he at least needed to know that his life was important and that someone cared enough to show him. He needed room to learn how to walk again, and space to just be a kid again. Through the kindness of the government workers, and landowner’s donation, and the help our Absolute School of Leadership students, Misael got that and more. A new home for the family resulted in a special shower for Misael, as well as other necessary “luxuries” for the family such as bedding, kitchen supplies and warmth. And best of all? Misael has been fitted for a prosthetic limb and is learning how to adjust to his life with passion and fervor!

There are hundreds of thousands of children around the world like Misael, and most of them have lost their limbs due to the selfishness, greed and disregard of the world around them. At a time when the world should be celebrating their lives, the decisions of many have cost the Misael’s of the world dearly. Misael is an amputee because of one man’s selfish decision and because of the poverty that entrenches his young life. While his physical injuries can’t be changed, we can work together to help make the world a safer and more secure place for kids such as him.

Join us on Hero Holiday this year in Mexico! We will be building homes for families such as Misael’s and working in communities to extend a hand up out of disabling poverty. We need you and you need to experience the power of being hope for someone else! Check out www.absolute.org.