My friend is moving away

I have a dear friend who is moving away to India with her husband and 6 children. They live fairly close to us and are also homeschooling. My children have become friends with their youngest and love to play together. As we don’t have family in this country I feel like they have become cousins.

I am so excited for them as they go to India because it’s something that’s been on their hearts for years and I know that it’s going to be amazing as they go and live the lives God has for them, but at the same time I’m feeling so sad. They have been such good friends to us. So kind and generous and have helped us with our marriage and parenting and I feel kind of mad at God for taking them away. I want to be selfish and have a nice cosy life with my friends around the corner!

I know our kids are going to miss them so much too, and I’m already anticipating a big hole in our lives. I hope they can understand the bigger picture when it’s time to say goodbye and that knowing why they are leaving will help them adjust.

It is such a mixture of emotion because ever since my teens I kind of knew this kind of thing would happen. I have always felt passionate about the nations in the sense that I believe the Gospel is for every nation and over the past 15 years or more I have felt a growing compassion for the poor in other nations and also a dissatisfaction with first world suburbia. I remember growing up that I freaked out at the thought of settling down close to the family home and just having a house and a couple of kids. D and I started our own marriage and family by moving far away from both our families. (Not for the purpose of moving away from our families, which has been incredibly painful and hard, but because there was more for us in this big wide world than our local towns)  I knew that if I let this grow in my heart it would mean painful goodbyes and also, it has become natural that my closest friends also have a heart to go someday.

But it still sucks.

They are listing their home for sale today in anticipation of the big move and it’s really hitting home the reality that they are actually going. If I’m feeling emotional about it I daresay they feel like their hearts are tearing in two. I’m not looking forward to the day we do the same but at the same time part of me cannot wait! What a crazy conflict.

Secretly (and now in the most public of forums – on the internet hehehe) I hope that we will meet up with them again somewhere, somehow. I feel like it’s been a God given friendship and we are like minded in so many ways. We both have a heart for the motherless children and ….well who knows? I don’t know…I wish I did.

They have an amazing story actually of how it is all falling into place as they get ready to leave. You can read about it all on Jodi’s blog called Yatra to India. I recommend going back to the first posts as she shares how God has clearly spoken over the years. (Not in a ‘voices in my head‘ kinda way so don’t be freaked out.)

Now I Know

I stumbled across this song some months ago now and still sometimes the refrain goes through my mind…

“I know what I know and I can’t deny it…”

I’m glad I’ve woken up and starting to look around me… I’m glad I’m learning the truth even though it’s painful. My dreams terrify me but I can’t go back now. I feel ruined for the status quo. I hope I never forget the plight of the poor, the orphans, the forgotten and overlooked ones.

Just thinking

I’ve been brewing a bit of an idea around here…which has been keeping me busy, hence the long absence. I am going to be sharing it with my church people on Sunday morning…and so here it is for you too! It’s totally terrifying to have a dream and more so to share it. I feel like I’m really putting myself out there and it’s rather scary!

Around the time just prior to starting the Zimbabwe project, and over the months that have followed, I have been making myself aware of some of the issues around poverty, particularly extreme poverty in developing nations. I have let myself be shocked at the statistics. I mean really let myself think about what they mean. The numbers are so big that we struggle to comprehend the magnitude of the problem. When we read that 1.1 billion people in the world live in extreme poverty, do we really get it? ¹ Have we ever stopped to really think about that? What would you and I do if tomorrow and for the foreseeable future we had only $1 per day to pay for all our daily needs of food and drinking water, shelter, clothing, medical care, and education?

As I have read and become more aware of the great needs in the world, I have become increasingly convinced that it is everyone’s responsibility to address the problem of poverty.

In my opinion it’s far too easy for those of us who live privileged lives to be ignorant of the way hundreds of millions of people in the world are living. It far too easy for us to be so wrapped up in our day to day lives worried about our houses, and cars and shopping and jobs and children; and spending our days working hard and watching TV, trying to pay the rent or pay off the house, that we are selfishly ignorant of the fact that several million mothers in the world struggled to find food for their babies today.

As a mother I think ‘what makes me so different from those other mothers who face a daily anguish of finding food for their fretful hungry baby?‘ Broadly, the answer is simply circumstance. There is no other difference between us than the circumstances of our births.

It could have been me born in Sub-Saharan Africa, where 40% of toddlers die from Malaria, which by the way is a preventable and treatable disease. It costs between $0.50 – $5.00 NZD for life saving medication to treat Malaria.² But sadly for most of the people dying of malaria, it’s not as easy as popping down to the local doctor, or having a friend take you to hospital. Even if they do make it to a hospital often times the medication simply isn’t available.

I wonder what would happen if people in New Zealand started dying at a rate of 10000 per day³ of a preventable disease? Just wondering.

And lets not forget the orphans. The are around 40 million orphans in the world today. 15 million of these are orphaned because of HIV/AIDS and of those 11.6 million are in Sub-Saharan Africa. ⁴

See….the statistics are shocking aren’t they?

So as I have been considering all these things and letting myself be confronted with the harsh realities, I have asked myself what can be done. Whose problem is it? Governments? Politicians? United Nations? Charities? Aid Organisations?The Church? Individuals? And the answer I came up with is Yes to all of these. It’s every body’s problem. There are many causes of extreme poverty, but injustice is a major one. And so just because I believe it isn’t right, I believe it’s my problem to address it. And, as Christ followers it is our very mission to break the chains of injustice and bring good news to the poor.

So, essentially my vision or idea is to:

Firstly, and most importantly develop in myself and us a heart like God’s for the poor.

Secondly, to take action to support projects that directly benefit the poor, by setting up a separate fund to which we as a local church can give as we are moved to and collectively make a huge difference. Together we could save hundreds if not thousands of lives, and

Thirdly some time in the future, to make a way where ordinary people like us can go to the destitute places and get our hands dirty and really help in practical ways to bring an end to extreme poverty.

And now, something to think about.

“What, therefore, is our task today? Should I answer “Faith, hope and love?” That sounds beautiful. But I would say – courage. No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth. Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack is not psychology or literature… we lack a holy rage – the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity. The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the streets, and when the lie rages across the face of the earth… a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world. To rage against the ravaging of God’s earth and and the destruction of God’s people. To rage when little children must die of hunger, while the tables of the rich are sagging with food. To rage at the senseless killing of so many, and the madness of militaries. To rage against the lie that calls the threat of death and the strategy of destruction, peace. To rage against COMPLACENCY. To restlessly seek that recklessness that will challenge and seek to change human history until it conforms to the norms of the kingdom of God.”

~ Father Kaj Munk (1944)

1Extreme poverty being defined as living on less than $1 per day. Moderate poverty defined as living on $1-$2 per day. (The End of Poverty (2005) Jeffery Sachs pp20-21)

2http://www.cdc.gov/malaria/facts.htm

3(The End of Poverty (2005) Jeffery Sachs p215)

42007 Data. http://www.avert.org/subaadults.htm

More questions than answers

“It is not permissible to add to one’s possessions if these things can only be done at the cost of other men. Such development has only one true name, and that is exploitation.”

~ Alan Paton. (Cry, The Beloved Country. 1948)

I’ve been thinking about poverty a lot lately, and it’s becoming clearer to me that the way I live has an impact on people in a greater way that I thought before. You see…what I do doesn’t just affect my and my family, or even just my city. The way I live along with all the rest of us affects people everywhere.

I’m becoming aware of greed. You see….our culture makes us want Stuff. By that I mean all sorts of items non-essential to life. And we want more and more of this Stuff, and because we are greedy we want it cheaply. We get it cheaply on the most part, but why? When I buy my son a little pair of shoes that cost less than $10 from The Warehouse…do I really think that in that $10 price that is enough to pay retailers costs, profit for the retailer, transport costs from China, profit for the manufacturer, the cost of materials AND a decent wage for the person making them?

This has raised a lot of questions for me. I have to ask myself:

• Why are they so cheap? Is it cheap labour?
• Why is the labour cheap?
• Because in China people are willing to work for less?
• Why are they willing to work for less?
• Do they have a choice about working for less?
• Are we greedy?
• What are the people in these factories paid?
• What are their conditions like?
• If I stop buying cheap goods churned out to satisfy the west’s insatiable appetite for Stuff will it help the cause of the people who are currently making them?
• Is there that much difference between this and the boycott of sugar by the abolitionists who refused to eat sugar produced under slave conditions?
• What about Fair Trade?
• What should I do about it?

(I wrote this post months ago and just cleaning out my drafts folder. Mostly the questions remain unanswered, but I am developing an inner rage about injustice so you might just hear more about this someday soon)

Blog Action Day – Let’s Talk About Poverty

Today is Blog Action Day where approximately 9000 bloggers from around the world will be writing about poverty. Hopefully our collective voice will make a difference in raising awareness and generating ideas to combat the misery of living in poverty. This is my contribution. Also posted at Make A Plan. Read what others are saying about it here. (Also, it’s not too late to join in if you have something to say about it too).

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I first encountered extreme poverty when I visited India in 1996. It was the first time I’d been out of Australia where I grew up and it was a massive culture shock. I had mentally acknowledged poverty, but seeing it in front of my eyes made it real to me in a way reading about it or even being told about it could never do.

I couldn’t believe people lived in such terrible conditions, day after day. I couldn’t believe there were people begging who had massive open wounds, and no one did anything about it. Or someone lying on the road in dust and dirt, and quite possibly dying and ordinary people walked straight past. I wanted to stop and do something! I wanted to get that person to a hospital and cared for.

But I walked past too. I was intimidated. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where I could take these people, didn’t speak the language, and couldn’t very well scoop them up and take them in an auto rickshaw back to the backpackers hostel! I was also just too scared. I thought I might be told I was doing something wrong or offensive in a foreign culture. In a way, I was too young. Yes I was naive and idealistic…sometimes the issues aren’t simple at all, and I didn’t give much thought about the reality of taking on a person’s care when I was just 20 years old, in India for 3 weeks on a very limited budget! I didn’t have a clue.

But in a way I never want to lose that youthful naivety, and almost reckless approach to poverty. So often we don’t do anything at all because the problem is too big, or too complicated, or not our problem. We don’t act because it’s a political issue, or it could be dangerous, or we are just one person and what difference will it really make. We are intimidated.

Earlier this year, a friend of my husband’s who lives in Taiwan and regularly emails us, sent us an email about the political situation in Zimbabwe. I’ve seen these emails before…you know what I mean. Emails about a cause. Most of the time I delete them thinking that I can’t take on the worlds problems, and often just not interested. Something about that email caught my eye though. I think because it was a story about an ordinary person just like me, a family just like mine struggling in life. I became interested enough to start searching the internet to find out more. I remember typing “What is going on in Zimbabwe?’ into google. The results were alarming for me.

I read about chronic shortages of the most basic kind, of hunger, of starvation, of illnesses. I read about hospitals unable to treat patients because of lack of basic medical goods and pharmaceuticals. I was moved to pray and continued to read about the situation (then approaching the March 29th elections)

And then a few weeks later by chance I stumbled upon an article which listed the wish list of items required by a hospital in a rural hospital north of Harare. The list had been collated by the Chief medical officer, and I was shocked to read some of those items. Things such as toothpaste and toilet paper. The most basic supplies. Also large quantities of fairly basic medical supplies like gauze and dressings.

‘Stuff it’ I said. ‘I’m going to send something’. I was sick of talking about how bad things were and doing nothing. I didn’t want to walk away again. So I emailed the doctor and indicated my intentions to send something and he gave me advice on how best to go about. My secret dream was to send a shipping container, but I mentioned this only to my husband and privately told myself to get my head out of the clouds and just take baby steps. Personally we didn’t have the money to send a container and I knew that it was more realistic to send a couple of boxes.

I started by emailing local medical supply companies and asking outright for donations. I approached over 15 companies and heard back from only one. They offered 4 pallets of perfectly usable goods.

I was so excited I could hardly think. A few weeks later this was followed up by a further large donation from the same company, and eventually a third. Now our garage is full to capacity with boxes of medical goods to be sent to Zimbabwe. It is approximately 28-30 cubic metres. ( A 20ft shipping container hold exactly 33 cubic metres.)

Our next challenge is to raise the funds to ship it there. It’s been a slow process, but I’m confident we’ll get there. I can’t wait to get it sent, and that hopefully my little crazy idea is actually going to make a difference in peoples lives.

This project has shown me that everyone has something to give no matter how insignificant you think it may be. Some people think that dealing with poverty is only about money. Yes, some people have money to give, and I think that all of us who live privileged lives in developed nations should consider giving something regularly. After all we live like kings and queens with our clean hot running showers and fresh food every day.

But it’s not just money. Some people have time on their hands. Some people can paint. Some people can give manual labour. Some people are good in business. Some people have blogs. Some people are hospitable. Some people are nurses. Some people can pray. Some people can design websites. Some people are doctors. Some people can sew. Some people can write. Some people can sell. Some people are politicians. Some people can make amazing food. Some people can sing. Some people can fundraise. Some people can spread the word. Some people can create beautiful things. Some people are lawyers. Some people are actors. Some people are activists. Some people work in medical supply companies and make compassionate decisions about what to do with surplus or written off goods.

Anyone regardless of age or background has something to give. Be creative about what you can do to help those less fortunate than yourself.

I’d love to hear your thoughts…especially if you’ve come here for Blog Action Day. Drop me a comment and let’s talk about what we can do about poverty.

To help with this project called Make A Plan please consider a donation using Paypal here, or join our Facebook group here. You can read more about the project or order items from the store here

Blog Action Day 08

I’m in. Are you in? Join me on October 15th. Let’s talk about Poverty.

more about “Blog Action Day 08“, posted with vodpod

Please pray for Zimbabwe

I have been reading This Is Zimbabwe regularly over the past few weeks. The situation there is more than tense. There are ongoing reports of violence, intimidation and torture of civilians. I do not know what the political answer is to these problems and I really hope things don’t have to get worse before things come to a head.

Sometimes I wonder what I can do to help in these situations. Just an ordinary Mum, living in suburbia. I have no friends in high places, I don’t know much about civil action, who or how to write to the authorities, and how to put pressure on people who can make a difference. There are those who continually use whatever legal means are available to them, and write letters and email campaigns to Presidents and Embassies, and the United Nations and the media. And while I think that this is commendable and essential in the struggle, somehow I don’t think Thabo Mbeki would feel compelled to action on the basis of a letter from me. But, I do also firmly believe in a God who can turn things around.

Today there has been a call to prayer for Zimbabwe. I couldn’t help but pass it on to all of you who read here in the hope that those of you who have faith can pray. Let’s pray for a quick removal of unjust leaders, a stop to the violence, and for a just democratic order to be restored.

I Met a Man Called Danny

There is a man D and I have regularly seen near our local shops who hangs around outside the bakery and asks people leaving for a ’spare dollar’.

I have noticed him many times before but I don’t remember the first time I saw him. He has striking clear blue eyes and an unobtrusive manner. He’s clean and while not immaculately groomed, is certainly not what I would call unkempt.

There have been at least two occasions when I have been with D and waited in the car while D went in to buy bread and I’ve been glad to see him give some coins. However on two occasions when I have gone in either with the children or with them waiting in the car that he has asked me for spare money. I have each time quickly refused with a mumbled “No, sorry”. This has been an automatic and conditioned response because I am a compassionate person. I’m not sure why I have this unthinking response when anyone approaches me for anything (this includes people who door knock selling things, people asking for surveys in the shopping mall, even people giving free samples in the supermarket). I just always so “No.”.

Each time I had refused this man however, I drove away wishing I knew his story. Wishing I had not only given him money, but offered him a meal; and feeling disappointed in myself that when it really counted I didn’t do what I could have done. Feeling that I had rejected him and was cruel.

Last Sunday we were at the local shops to get fish ‘n chips for lunch and D had gone ahead with the our older two children and their friend and I stayed in the car not feeling too well, and waiting with baby R. I was just thinking to myself about this man and wondered how long it was since we’d seen him. A moment later I noticed him hunkered down outside the bakery. I sat for a moment watching him, but before really thinking too much about it I got R out of his car seat, and walked over to where he was. I stuck out my hand and said

“Hello, I’m E. I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Oh, I’m Danny.” He shook my hand and we started talking.

We ended up chatting for a while and I was able to ask a few questions about his situation.

You see, after driving away previous times I started to question why I have this immediate wall response to someone who is needy. The same thing happened to me in India and while on some occasions I gave to beggars, sometimes it was all to easy to just put up the defenses and walk on by.

I have decided that often I feel threatened by neediness. I think If I give this man some money, will he keep taking from me over and over and never go away. In India during my travels I justified my hardened heart with the old ‘the beggar is probably an unfortunate victim of organised crime and is owned by some greedy pimp like character and my giving will only put more money into that corrupt system‘ line. Here in the west I modify it to ‘the guy is probably just trying to scrounge the money to buy his next drink or satisfy a drug habit, and what did he do with the money the government gave him anyway?’ But you know what…I also came to the conclusion that I don’t know what it’s like to be so desperate that I have to humble myself to beg from strangers. I can’t imagine it would ever be easy to beg for money, and so for someone to be that desperate who am I to judge their motives and problems. You just never know what people are facing, and how they got there. Everyone has a story to tell.

I’m glad I talked to Danny. Now that there is a name to the face, I will no longer be able to just walk on by. I no longer feel threatened by this man’s neediness. I walked away full of hope that his life might one day get better. My faith in God, that sometimes seems to become overly complicated and hence ineffective in the world, was simplified. The simple power of the good news about Jesus to change lives. And you know what…it made me come alive!

Made in the Image of God.

I grew up thinking I was not creative. I didn’t have a particular talent…I couldn’t draw, paint, sing or play an instrument well. I wasn’t good at sports or dance or anything that seemed to matter to me as a child. I struggled to draw a tuna tin in my first year of art at school, and it was horrible to feel incompetent. My confidence was low, and so I put in little effort and didn’t continue art the following year when we had the choice.

I think back to my Year 8 art class, and consider the teaching methods. Why would I want to draw a tin of food!!!! It was a death blow to any inspiration in art. It was like: “Draw something, create something and then we’ll mark you on how well or badly you did it.” Crikey! No wonder I gave up!

I’m not a professional teacher, and yet intuitively I know that if you want children to be inspired in art…expose them to great art! All genres and from all era’s. Something different will appeal to each one, and maybe they’ll be motivated to try something. Then teach the skills required to create the piece. Then teach them about the paints and brushes, the techniques, the mediums. The theory…the techniques meant nothing to me, were completely boring and I wasn’t motivated to try because I didn’t understand the point. Now that I am inspired to be creative, I would be much more attentive to a lesson on perspective or some other art thing. I still may never have been particularly good at drawing or painting, but you know what….I think I would have enjoyed art classes.

All my life, I have always salivated (well not literally, but it really does come close to that!) when looking at art supplies… paints, brushes, pencils, and all kinds of paper. A blank canvas excites me at the possibilities to fill it with something beautiful. I never bought anything before because I always said “I can’t draw”, which in my mind really meant “I’m not artistic”.

Now that I am older, I have gradually realised that I do love to create. I have discovered that when inspired, I can create. A little inspiration from Sarah and I wrote a little piece below which while may not be brilliant, is an expression of me. I  like to sew and write, and take photographs and sing and create gifts. I’m less narrow in my definition of creativity. I no longer think of creativity only in terms of painting a masterpiece or sketching a portrait or playing an instrument.

Nevertheless, recently I spent a little bit of money on some paints and brushes and canvas paper, and I’m going to give it a go. I have no idea if anything will come of it. I still don’t think I can draw, but I’m not going to let that stop me create something beautiful with paint. Well…I’ll try at least. And this time it’s going to be fun!

I firmly believe that every person has creativity in them. We are made in the image of God…a creative God whose creation is diverse and beautiful and intricate and intelligent and amazing and perfect.

Blessed are the Peace Makers

I just did something I hate to do. I phoned a friend to confront a relational issue. It’s been nearly a month since an incident happened and I’ve been too scared to bring it up. It really needed to be discussed and was in relation to children’s behaviour. Something had happened in our home and while I dealt with it in a small way while the child was here, I needed the mother to know so she could take it up with her child. I had made it to be such a big deal in my mind and yet, my friend’s response was so reasonable and level headed, I don’t know quite what I was worried about.

To my shame, what prompted me to finally deal with it is that I am seeing her on Friday and I knew I couldn’t possibly see her face to face with any integrity if I hadn’t raised the issue. Talk about leaving things to the last minute. The silly thing is, it would have been so much less a big deal if I’d done it on the day it happened. Why do I find it so hard to bring things up?

You can’t move forward in a relationship if there not unity, or true peace.
What in the beginning was an issue I had to forgive, ended up being an issue where I also needed to ask forgiveness for holding out on her for so long.

I’ve asked myself why I was scared to bring it up and much of it was fear of misunderstanding. I was worried she’d think I thought less of her, or that I stood in judgement of her. I was scared she’d think I thought I was superior to her or that my children would never do a thing like that. I was more concerned about her misjudging me, than I was about the fact that in the first place, we were the ones that were ‘wronged’.

It’s the same for me if I’m bumped into by someone while in a crowd. Countless times, someone bumps me thoughtlessly, and I say sorry. If I buy a faulty item I rarely take it back. I had a really bad haircut and did nothing about it. What’s with that? Why do I find it so hard to allow someone know that they have wronged me? I want to keep the peace. Never want to make a fuss. Don’t make a scene. Leave it alone. It’s not a big deal. Don’t say anything. Don’t upset the apple cart. Don’t rock the boat.

And it’s not as noble as it sounds, to let these little offences go, to ‘turn the other cheek’. Because I’m not really meekly turning the other cheek and offering gracious forgiveness. Even though I don’t say anything, I am actually offended. What is worse, I pretend I’m not. Pretense is the real meaning of hypocrisy. It’s a mask.

I am by nature a peace keeper. However, what is better, is a peace maker. Today I finally made peace in the situation. While I was busy being a peace keeper, all I was doing was sweeping the dust under the carpet and I was left knowing there was something amiss. There could never have been any integrity in our friendship if I’d carried on just keeping the ‘peace’. It would have eroded any true relationship until it just went stale and old and redundant. She might never have known why we’d ‘grown apart’ and I’d always have some regret or resentment.

Being a peace maker is actually bringing proper reconciliation. Forgiveness, restitution, and restoration. The wrong righted. Jesus is the ultimate peace Maker. Maybe that’s why it says:

“Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.” (Matthew 5:9)