11 PM - Christal Earle’s Blog

Sometimes you miss the boat completely. Sometimes you screw up everything so badly that you are convinced there is no turning back. Sometimes you wish you didn’t need to ever get out of bed again. And sometimes, you realize that maybe you are somehow making a difference. And sometimes you have moments when you realize that it is totally worth it.

I was a massive baby. I was one ounce shy of 10 pounds, my mom was a teenager and I am sure she was probably feeling like she did not bargain for this. But there have been times when she has talked about how much pain giving birth was and then she said it is like you can’t even remember it once you see that baby and you realize that it is worth it all. Sometimes, that is what following through on a dream can be like.

The first year we ever did Hero Holiday in Absolute was a wilder year than we could have ever imagined. We were in the middle of trying to relocate our organization to another city, we were in the middle of a massive building project for our headquarters because we were desperate to have a place to work out of that was suitable, and we were always facing a new financial challenge every minute of every day as a small charity. We did a lot of things wrong, did a lot of things right, had a lot of amazing people around us that supported our passion for change, and managed to frustrate others who couldn’t go there with us. But I will never forget what happened at the very first school in Canada that we talked about Hero Holiday in.

We were in North Bay, Ontario, and in the middle of our high school presentation we stepped out and invited the students to join us for something that we believed could change their lives; something that we believed could change the future of our nation. We invited them to consider investing in helping others through humanitarian work and joining us in the Dominican Republic to build some houses for people that were desperate for adequate shelter for their families. At the end of that presentation, our team stood back, awed by what we saw: hundreds of students lining up to sign up their name for more information on how to get involved with Hero Holiday. It was the point of no return. We were in it to win it.

Somewhere along the road that year in Canada, we were at an event that Rana attended. We stood on that stage and challenged the students to consider joining us on our first ever Hero Holiday. As we finished the presentation, Rana turned to her friend beside her and said, “I am going to join those people.” And she did. That summer as she was a part of our Hero Holiday teams in Dominican Republic, Rana had the chance to work alongside of one of our doctors and learn about all the possibilities that exist with providing health care in the developing world. That year she went into university, with the intention of getting into Med School.

It took Rana a while to get into Med School. She was turned down by many, and had to continually push to write more tests and conduct more interviews. But this last month, I had the privilege of being the first person that Rana told about getting accepted into Med School for this coming school year. I was so proud. And as I hugged her and told her how excited I was for her, she said, “I am doing this because of what happened in my life with Hero Holiday. You guys gave me the chance to realize what I can do to make a difference, and it is because of that that I am going into Med School now. It inspired me to want to be a doctor in the developing world.

As I type these words, I am reminded of all of the Ranas in the world: so full of potential and wanting to make their mark on history. And when you get the chance to see it happen, it is always worth it. You are going to make a great doctor, Rana.

For all of you Ranas out there, the ones who know that if they are just willing to hang on to what they believe they can do, on behalf of all of us in Absolute, I want to say thanks. You make it worth it for us - all the time.

Hero Holiday has changed our lives because each of us has realized that we can be a part of something incredible. To find out more about Hero Holiday and all that we do in Absolute, check out www.absolute.org.

“History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.” ~ Winston Churchill

Mason is a normal, nice guy - kind of like the guy next door in suburban Canada. But he is different from that guy in many ways, and in his own words, Mason has been blessed and gifted. So when the opportunity came to be on a Hero Holiday when he was in Grade 9, his only thoughts were, “Bring it on!”

Mason wasn’t a troubled kid, nor was he depressed or suicidal. He just didn’t realize how much the experience was going to turn his life upside down and begin to shape his perspective for good.

The first time I went and worked in Mexico I was dumbfounded and awestruck that a nation in which my family unloads so much material wealth into recreationally, in reality is starving just for our leftovers.
Society plagues the youth of today into thinking that material gain and social status is the fundamental foundation to providing a long, happy life. But society’s vision is skewed. Prior to the experiences that Absolute provided me I was lost. I was living in a world that seemed sheltering and almost imprisoning. My life was good - do not get me wrong. I have a solid family, amazing friends and a promising future. But there is more to life than the basics.
I felt as though a huge component of my life was torn from me; as if some gaping hole had formed in my contentment that I did not know how to fill. I couldn’t ever quite describe the feeling I felt, and this only applies to me personally; not the general public, but I now realize that feeling was more like meaninglessness. I felt as though my life held no purpose and provided no change for the world. I felt as though no matter what I did, my life would not make a difference. Again it is a hard concept to explain, and to the recipients of this they might think I was depressed but this is not true.
The trips I have gone on with Hero Holiday have essentially lifted the shadowy veil of reality and have shown me aspects of my own world I had only previously seen on television or in newspapers.
The kids I’ve played with, the fathers I’ve built homes for, the communities I’ve built schools for all have changed because of it. They are grateful and truly appreciate the gifts we have provided them with. This is one of the small facts that makes me allow myself a smile. I was a student who had just finished grade nine at a local Junior High. I used my parents’ money for my first trip, but once my eyes were opened I understood that in order for my change to matter I had to earn the right to help these people. For me to even begin to feel worthy of helping them I had to earn it. I worked for every single cent that I put into these trips and brought the leftover money with the intention of donating it for the last three years.

Last summer, on his third Hero Holiday Mason suddenly became very sick and was hospitalized. The reason? He didn’t drink enough water during the work day and the lack of hydration caused a freak dip in his immune system that was dangerous. However, thanks to the great doctors at the hospital in the community and with the help of our staff, he was back after a couple of days. The sickness gave him a chance to see life from a different perspective, as he contemplated what it means to be able to have access to health care, clean water, even a clean and safe place to rest.

But the best possible thing from his sickness happened to him when he got back to the house build and saw the family that they were working for: he realized how much his help meant to them.

I walked in the house and immediately the mother had started to cry. She wrapped her arms around me and I could feel her appreciation with every shake and every harsh sobbing breath she took in. She then showed me a drawing her daughter had made.
Her daughter had been with me every day that I worked in that hole that I had been digging for their outhouse. She had ‘helped’ me dig (though usually she ended up pushing more dirt into my half-dug outhouse hole) and she made me smile and feel as though the project was worth doing. She was only about six or seven, and would clumsily walk hand in hand with me whenever I visited the water cooler or other students. She provided me with motivation to keep swinging the pickaxe into the devastatingly hard clay even when I thought my muscles would burst from exertion. Anyways, her mother showed me a drawing that the little girl had made while I was in the hospital. Apparently they had heard that I was hospitalized because I worked too hard and they understood it was serious. The drawing was of her and her family holding hands in front of a brand new house. They were unskillfully drawn stick figures but the picture was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her family and her stood happily in front of their home and I was drawn above them… with a Halo and angel wings.

Mason’s story isn’t really about how good it feels to help someone, although that is true. It isn’t a life lesson about staying well-hydrated, although we really do insist on that. It’s about friendship. When you cross over from seeing people as needing your help to seeing them as your friends and part of your life, that’s where your life is changed. We live our lives in relationships, and a true friend is one who loves people where they are at and believes in them, no matter what.

To find out more about Hero Holiday Mexico and how you can get involved, check out absolute.org. You belong here!

Have you ever met a chicken that hated it’s life? Me neither. But, I have definitely met a lot of chickens that, if I were them, I would hate my life. What is there to love about being a chicken if you live in the developing world? You spend all day dodging traffic, trying to find food for your chicks, hoping that your number hasn’t been called.

The first time we ever walked through that village in Dominican Republic, I remember trying to process what was going on around me - but there was too much. Vaden and I were there on vacation, to be honest. We had worked hard traveling all year with our road teams, and now that school tours were done for the year, we found a cheap deal to escape to the Caribbean sun for a week, completely oblivious to what we were about to encounter. But life in paradise was proving to be boring and after the third day we were tired of looking at the same drunk, sunburned people around our resort pool. We needed out. It was at that point that we remembered that we actually had friends in Dominican Republic who were missionaries in the local area. Why not give them a call and see what they do? As their little white pickup pulled up to the door of our resort, our lives were about to be rocked and we were completely oblivious.

An innocent question changed the future of Absolute, and consequently, our own lives: “Would you like to see a little bit of the real Dominican Republic?”

It was a 7 minute drive from our resort gate to the entrance to that village. I got out of the truck and began to walk among the homes and families that lived there. Wide smiles, kind eyes, endless calls of “hola!” greeted us - all of them in the midst of, what was for me at that time, the biggest concentration of poverty I had been exposed to. I will never forget that day: the smells, the sounds, the collision of realities. All of it is etched in my mind because it is where my life changed - for the better. And when I met that lady, the deal was sealed.

We sat on the hard dirt floor of her tiny house - not even the size of my kitchen - and she began to show me what life was like from her perspective. She told me of how the rats nibbled on her children’s fingers if she didn’t have all 5 of them on the one saggy, dirty bed at night, how her house flooded every rainy season because of the deforestation behind her on the hill, of how hard it was to be a single mother, and of how scary it is to be in a country that is not her home and where neither her nor her children have identity papers. She taught me about life that afternoon on that dirt floor.

As we left her house and walked back through the village, a tiny, fluffy chick raced in front of my feet. A little boy’s laughter followed behind it, as he raced to pick it up and play with it (much to the little chicken’s angst!). As I watched that little chick and all the other scrawny chickens that were wandering around that tiny street, I couldn’t help but laugh and say, “Now I get it! He really is just trying to get to the other side!”

At the end of the day our friends dropped us back at our resort, and I walked back through the resort, past the same drunk and sunburned people. But I was changed. My heart was broken and my sense of justice was enraged by what I had experienced. As I sat on the floor of our hotel room and cried, I came to the conclusion that tears are not enough. Tears won’t change lives, and tears won’t help fight back at poverty. But people can, and there was a reason why Absolute had such a huge influence in Canadian high schools. That influence could be used to write history.

Exactly 14 months later, Absolute returned to Dominican Republic with our first Hero Holiday group of 180 people. Together we built safe housing, dug trenches for fresh, clean water to be delivered to a village, met people we would never forget, and had our lives imprinted forever by the experience. We have never looked back.

To date, Absolute has taken over 2500 people on Hero Holidays to Dominican Republic, Mexico, Thailand and Haiti. We do this because of one reason: we believe in the potential of this generation to change the world and we want to give them the opportunity to prove it.

You can be a part of what we do! To find out more about Hero Holiday, check out www.heroholiday.com.

She has a way of making you instantly trust her. Her friends would describe her as consistent, loyal, and most of all, compassionate. Her laughter erupts when you least expect it and she is always quick to lend a hand in absolutely any way possible. She is Italian, loves pasta, panettone, and stilettos and she has worn just about every hat in Absolute. Her real name is Diane, but to all of us in Absolute, she is known as Dee.

Success in life is often measured by very “predictable” metrics: money, career, family size, and making sure that which concerns you is ok. But those rules don’t apply to all of us. Some social rules were made to be broken, and Dee is proof that it is possible.

We first met her in 2002, she was 18 at the time, and even then she was someone whom we recognized as being passionate and ready for a challenge. She started working with Absolute the following year, and has been with us full-time ever since that day. But Dee’s idea of working full-time is very different from what many of us may consider. Work isn’t about a pay cheque to her - it is about a passion. It’s about knowing where you belong, and doing whatever it takes to continue to do it with focus and determination.

In the world in which we work in Absolute, life changes quickly. High schools are an environment where in any given moment, you can be among an incredibly diverse group of people: from ethnicity to physical abilities to emotional or psychological stability, there are no two teenagers alike. It is a tenuous world and we walk into it every day. But that same diversity and fragility is why we believe so much in what we do in Absolute: someone took the time to believe in each of us and now we have the privilege to do the same. This is basically Dee’s motto in life: love the world and be a part of something significant.

Whenever someone asks Dee what she does, she never talks about the daily tedium of working in the office, never lists off all of the places that she has traveled with Absolute through Hero Holiday or on one of our road teams. Instead, I have always heard her talk about why she does what she does: she believes that a vision this big needs many dedicated people to make it happen and she is one of them. And she is right.

Success may mean a big house, a lot of attention and fanfare, and having many leather-bound books (thank you, Anchorman!) but in reality, for there to be any change that happens today to make tomorrow safer and better, success is also about dedication, passion and focus. It can look like many different people, and Dee is one of those people.

For all the Dee’s out there, this is our letter of thanks. People like you are not only what makes the world a better place - you are the ones who largely help to make it happen. Your willingness to be a part of something that is bigger than you makes you a hero. And though the world may not yet know your name, your imprint is left on lives and hearts all over the world. Thank you.

Our programs in Absolute are made up of many significant people like Diane: from our staff to our volunteers to our Hero Holiday participants, each of them are heroes because they are choosing to do what they can to make a difference where they see it is needed most. To find out more about how to get involved in what we do, check out www.absolute.org

“Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful.” ~ Herman Cain

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.