3 Things the World Cup Has Taught Me About Raising Boys

So, I'm going to admit that I am kind of a fair weather soccer fan. Or at least I used to be. We have always been a football (not futbol) family. I am an avid (sometimes rabid) watcher of NCAA and NFL football. My boys played football. I was a crazy football mom. But, that, friends, was life in 'Murica.

Costa Rica has been turning us. Slowly. Until now. I do believe what started out as a bit half-hearted has been fully converted by this World Cup and Costa Rica's historic performance. And the ensuing mania in our right-now country which we have enjoyed immensely.

But as I have been watching these matches (see that, using proper lingo and all) closely, I have learned a thing or two. Or three. They have nothing to do with soccer. They are lessons from the men on the field. And they are showing me a thing or two about how to raise little men.

Here are three take-aways on raising boys I have learned from the watching the first round of World Cup play:

From the players: If something is worth doing, it is worth doing with excellence. Appearance is a key aspect of excellence. You guys, these men are not playing a game out there. They are sacrificing life and limb in the pursuit of excellence. They have form. They have technique. They have heart. They have training. They have teamwork. All things any mom of boys would easily list as key aspects of character that must be formed in boys for them to become men of honor and know success. But they have other things too, these men of excellence. They have hair. And tattoos. And neon cleats. And these things are important. Apparently. whether you choose to sport long Latin curls, mounds of blonde dread locks, or a shiny bald noggin has something to do with the way you are perceived by team mates, coaches, and opponents. Apparently too, the brightness of shoes affects ow hard and how accurate you can kick the ball. Or at least how hard you think you can kick the ball. For a long time, my house was filled boys who saw underwear and cowboy boots as high fashion. Who liked to run each other's buzz cuts for fun. Suddenly, these boy-men are very concerned about brands of shoes and hair gel and who is going to cut their hair and whether that person is capable of making their bangs flip just right. They each have a favored color scheme and style. I forget whose is whose. I can't keep up with brands of gel and the preferred scent of Axe body spray. And I was kind of blowing them off with a "what does it all matter, you're boys" attitude. Until World Cup. Now I know it matters. Very much. I am not quite sure what it is these boy-men will pursue excellence at, but I know it will matter that they appear to already be excellent at it. To them and to the people around them. We might not be rushing out to buy neon cleats just yet, but I will be a bit more cheerful about restocking the hair gel and Axe supply now.

From the coaches: Just because you have to wear a suit to work, it doesn't mean you can't be passionate about what you do. You guys, soccer coaches wear suits. On the field. During the game. And they jump and scream and sometimes spit in them. Their ties stick to their sweaty necks and threaten to strangle them. They squat and I fear for what we might all end up seeing with a little deeper bend. But they do their jobs. And they do them with passion. We tend to treat men's careers sometimes like the thing they must do to keep their families from starving to death. The thing that they really hate and so morosely and tragically to keep the light bill paid. The suits they don heroically while they sacrifice their souls for the greater good. This is not my hope for my sons. I want them to be able to support a family, sure. But I also want them to find a means to do it that, while it might require sacrifice (as all good things do), they can love, be passionate about, and be comfortable with. I want their suits to be a sign of pride in the role they play, not a prison sentence. They might not become soccer coaches, but they can certainly get excited enough about whatever it is they are doing that they sweat a little, their cheeks flush and their ties get a little befuddled. As a matter of fact, I think it might be time to practice a little tie tying style around these parts.

From the referees: Boys fight a lot. It doesn't always require your intervention. Boys are competitive. They want to win. At everything. They express themselves physically. They push. They shove. They grab shirts. They break the rules of the game and, sometimes, the rules of common human decency. Sometimes, they can shock with their ability to forget all you have ever taught them about decency. Sometimes, they bite. Often, the counter attack to these ferocious advances is dramatic and involves much flailing, rolling on the ground and fake tears. Sometimes, they try to divert your attention from your wrong by waving their arms wildly while they look askance at you waiting for you to do something. You are not required to intervene. If you stare back stoically, or better yet, just keep running and going about your business, 8 times out of 10, they will miraculously rise from their injuries unscathed and get back in the game. Also, consistency is optional. When you choose to enter the fray and enforce the rules is completely up to you. And everyone respects that. Even if they get in your face and try to tell you otherwise. Also, if you have sons, get yourself some little yellow cards. They apparently have magical powers that stop fighting boys in their tracks. And I think from this point forward in this house, we shall resolve penalties by lining up the offenders and allowing the injured to kick a ball straight at them as hard as possible. Maybe we will need those neon cleats after all.

P.S. If you have not been following my friend Elizabeth's son Michael's coverage of the Cup at USA Today, you are really missing out on half the fun. We will charm you and maybe even make you a bonafide soccer fan.

The Mommy Question I'm Not Asking Myself Any More

I have had a lot of conversations with some long-time mom friends lately about the challenges we are facing as we move beyond the phase of the hazy little people years and into the very different but not less challenging years of having mostly middle-sized or narly full-size people in our homes. As I have thought about this phase, one thing I have noticed about myself is that a lot of things I once put a lot of priority are on are just not that important any more. Things I once spent a lot of time trying to get just right haven't turned out to be the key things to raising healthy kids with whom I have a healthy relationship. I am shifting a bit in the way  think about raising kids in general, in homeschooling and in passing on our Catholic faith to our kids.

There are some questions I used to stress and pore over that I now think were either the wrong questions to ask or that I was asking them seeking the wrong answer. I'm trying to move away from placing so much emphasis on these thoughts and replacing them with questions that seem to address the real needs of bigger people trying to navigate a bigger world.

Am I being a good example to my kids?

It's not that I've stopped trying to be a good example to my kids. It's that what I used to think that meant is changing a lot as my kids get older. I used to think being a good example meant showing my kids what it looked to pursue holiness. And by that I meant that I was kind and nice and gentle and didn't say curse words out loud when people cut me off in traffic or I dropped a heavy object on my feet. It meant I didn't let them see me fight with their dad or get mad at other people. It meant I always looked happy to go to church, didn't get distracted in Mass and never let them see me wasting time on the computer or my own pursuits. A good example equalled some imaginary perfect mom that my kids have never and will never have. Because of that, I spent an awful lot of time beating myself up and feeling like a bad mom.

I haven't given up on trying to be a good example to my kids. But my definition of what that means has changed quite a bit. I know that most of all my kids need me to be myself and be okay with who I am. And the truth is, I am not a naturally gentle person. Thoughtful, kind? Yes. Gentle, not so much. And I curse. And dance. And sometimes find getting ready for church to be my Waterloo. And get annoyed in church and I get distracted in Mass and sometimes it's too darn hard to pay attention in Spanish any more so I zone out. And their dad and me? We are passionate and verbal. And we have lots of heated discussions. And as an adult human person with her own needs and dreams and desires, I have things I enjoy pursuing outside of these kids. Some of them involve being on the computer. And I'm learning that none of that makes me wholly a good example or a bad mom. (Okay, I should probably curse way less. I admit it.) Because they are essentially the wrong questions to ask. Instead, when I think about being a good example to my boys, I am asking myself these things instead:

• Am I letting my kids see me maintain relationships? Do my kids know what it takes to stay connected to someone even as life transitions to a new phase? Do they see me articulate my needs and feelings to others? Do they see me respond to the needs of my friends? Do they see me disagree with people, get angry. and work through the mess? Do they see me get it wrong and apologize? Have they seen me work my way through the pain of losing a friend?
• Insert with their dad in the place of friends above. Add do they know what the sacrament of marriage means to me and their dad? Do they know that quitting is not an option for us? Do they see us share affection in front of them often? Do they see us work together as a team often? Do they see us pull away from them to spend time together often? Do they see me set aside my own pursuits when the needs or desires of their dad take priority?
• Do my kids see me doing the same with them? Connecting, finding joy, saying yes as often as I can to their messes and mess-ups and cray chaos? Do I apologize AND confess my sin to them when I have wronged them? Do I make reparation in some healthy way? Do they see me set aside all other things for them, collectively and individually, when duty or just the stuff of life demands it? And sometimes when it doesn't but I just want them to know that they are special and they are loved fiercely.
• Do my kids see me pursuing things I enjoy? Seizing opportunities to educate myself further, use my gifts, take on new challenges, step out of my comfort zone? Do my kids know that I have dreams and passions of my own?Could they identify them? 
• And do they see me living out my relationship with God? Do they see me seeking out God throughout the day? Do they see me working my through spiritual struggles? Giving real, authentic thanks in all things? Expressing fears and doubts and seeking answers? Confessing my sins, being honest about my falls and getting up and starting over again?
• Am I showing my kids what it looks like to live as sinner who is redeemed by Christ? As a Catholic who relies on the grace of the sacraments? As human who loves imperfectly but keeps trying?

Now, I realize that's an awful lot of questions to replace just one. But I think that's the heart and the hard of this phase in life. The simple, surface question and answer will not serve me well with kids who see through the facade. I have to dig deep, ask big, hard questions and live the answers authentically in front of these growing people. If I had to, however, take all that stuff up there and create one new question for myself, I think this would sum it up:

Am I living a life in which my kids see me try to love God with all my heart, mind and soul and love my neighbor as myself? And do they know that I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am loved and redeemed no matter how many time I get that right or wrong? 

P.S. I'll try to curse less too.

Because She Loves: A Tribute to the Moms Who Inspire Me

I am thinking about Mother's Day coming to you mamas there in the States this weekend (and to my own -- Happy Mother's Day, Mom! I love you!) this morning as I sit in the quiet of having sent my crew on ahead of me to the site of our medical mission while I await the arrival of the team from the States tomorrow. This year, I think the crazy state of things this weekend will cure me once and for all of double-dipping on Mother's Day. I'll just have to wait until August and celebrate it with all the Costa Rican moms who only get to do so once a year.

But what I am thinking about most is the amazing company I stand in. Y'all, moms are out there doing some of the most incredible things. And you probably have no idea because they just do it. Like it's their job to make the world a better place and love ALL the people and get tired and then get inspired and then keep doing it.

On any given night, I can scroll my Facebook feed last night and find posts from moms performing the most incredible feats of love and grace:

Grandma Rose in Tanzania, 87 and still going strong, because she loves.

• Moms building a maternity clinic in Sierra Leone together, because they love.
• A mom holding her daughter tight through her battle with seizures and loving her in all the hard moments of a warrior life and changing diapers and still lacing her up in pretty Chucks and a flower in her hair for outings, because she loves. 
• Motherless moms who find this day so hard to celebrate yet accept the crayon cards and burnt toast breakfast through the tears of missing their own mamas, because they love.

My mother-the-law, the mom we'll all be missing this Mother's Day, because she loved.

• A mom packing up her family and finding a home for her cat as she makes the move back to SE Asia to set captives free from slavery, because she loves.
• A young mama to many pulling night shifts at the hospital and coming home to cuddle in front of cartoons with twin toddlers and a preschooler as she waves the rest of her crew of eight off to school, because she loves.
• Moms with bald heads wrapped in scarves and swollen faces and a mental countdown of days too short who get up and make breakfast and go to end-of-years school performances, because they love.
• Moms capturing stunning moments of motherhood with a lens like pros and making us all remember why we do this, because they love. 
• Older mamas still feathering their nests to welcome grandbabies and whole families born from their family into their lives, because they love.
• Moms who are midwives catching babies and loving mamas in Haiti in the middle of the night, because they love.
• Moms stretching budgets and still not making ends meet and humbly asking for help and accepting the judgement of others and the all the weight of the label of "poor" for a voucher for milk and peanut butter, because they love.
• A mama crying at the cemetery for the baby she didn't get to hold and waiting for travel dates to fly across the ocean to pick up the teen-aged boy she'll call her own soon, because she loves.

My brave, beautiful mama cutting my older brother's cake in the ICU waiting room the day before she let him fly home.

• Moms managing to get dinner on the table and kids to ballet/soccer with a husband deployed across the oceans, because she loves.
• Widows homeschooling kids and doing all the stuff every day, alone, broken-hearted, but so, so brave, because they love.
• Moms sitting beside sick babies in a hospital and smiling and singing and touching gently because they refuse to be helpless for their little ones, because they love.

I am in awe that I get the crazy wonderful unconditional love of these boys in return, because I love.

• Moms ironing caps and gowns and smiling wide enough that the tears slide away before their grown up babies notice them, because they love.
• Nigerian mamas crying out the names of their daughters and wondering why the world doesn't hear but standing strong, because they love.

A mother's blessing, because she loves.

• A mama lawyer writing and then lobbying through to law a bill that will protect the lives of thousands of unborn babies in her state, because she loves.
• Moms running orphanages and sponsoring medical clinics and writing books and empowering women and praying Nigerian school girls' names into the heavens, because they love.
• Moms I love in Africa and Costa Rica overcoming obstacles of poverty and lack of education to become warrior moms who love fierce and find a way no matter what, because they love.

Noemy dreaming dreams for Baby Sabrina, because she loves.

• And moms finding socks and telling bed time stories and teaching someone to tell time and to share and to blow kisses and holding the grief of empty arms and the doubt of insecurity and if they are enough in their hearts, but begging grace and mercy and clinging to One who has them to give away in abundance, because He loves.

This. This is the wonder and wild grace of motherhood. And these are the women making it beautiful every day in the quiet corners of their homes and the ends of the earth and the neighborhood parks and the hospital bed sides and the Senate floor and the mud huts of Africa and every single, corner of the globe. Lights that make the world's darkness bearable for humanity. These are the hearts of mothers. Broken and beautiful, all of them in their own way, because they love.

Esther and Lupina working to fill mouths day after day, because they love.

Why I'm Talking to My Boys About Bringing Back Our Girls (and What I'm Saying)

I have been emotionally invested in the abduction and return of the 234 missing Nigerian school girls since last week. It has occupied my thoughts and my prayers and weighed heavy on my mind.

I have bombarded my Facebook feed and Twitter with links and cries to #BringBackOurGirls. I have talked to my husband about it. I know he is watching because, well, he follows me on social media and so can't get away  from it.

But I realized today as the outcry begins to reach fever pitch that I must talk my boys about these girls. Even though I wish very much that they did not live in a world where girls can be abducted and sold into slavery for $12 for going to school, the fact is they do. And the best chance I have of changing that world, better than any hashtag, is to raise children who do not live in blissful ignorance, children who blush first with shock and then with anger over the injustice of modern day slavery. Children with knowledge and education and passion for the poor and the oppressed of the world.

All of my children happen to be boys. The most poor and oppressed of the world happen to be mostly girls and women. It seems easier to figure out how to discuss this atrocity and initiate a call to action among other girls who can picture themselves in these girls school shoes.

But if we are to raise a generation that triumphs over these evils, and I firmly believe we are capable of doing so, we have to stop calling these issues "women's issues" and make them "human issues", "justice issues", "the right thing to do" for all of humanity.

I believe my sons could be part of the solution to the injustices humanity faces. I believe they know girls who are part of those solutions too. I want to ensure they grow into men who believe that with every fiber of conviction they have. I want them to be men who will step up when it is their turn in the ring and have the education and the passion to deliver the knock out punch to injustice. And I want them to be men who will lean over the ropes in the corner, brows beaded with sweat and voices hoarse with overuse from cheering on the women in the ring as they take their turn to strike back at injustice.

For that to happen, I must start now, must build a little fire in their guts to fight injustice and to not be afraid of the reality that most of the world's injustices are commited against women and girls, that girls are the most oppressed people group on the planet. I want them to know it is not a shame to them as men and they do not have to shuffle awkwardly away from that reality. That they can be men who lean into that and begin to change that reality just by being willing to discuss it, sit with it, claim it as their problem.

And I want them to learn to listen to women and the way these realities affect them. To hear the ache of the hearts of women they love and respect, the cries of the mothers, and desperation of the girls. And to not be afraid of the emotion of it all. To take it and hold it in cupped hands and guard it well. And let it be the spark that lights them up to defend their sisters.

I have a house full of boy children. But I want to be sure they know they are not sister-less. And that their sisters, they need them. And this world needs them. And this world needs their sisters too. And that is why they must care about bringing them back. That is why they must care that women are set free. That is why they must care that girls get to go to school.

Because they live and will live in world that is made whole by the women who walk it with them. And their silenced voices and locked away lives leave half the sky missing. And I want my boys to see the whole sky. And love it with all their hearts.

So this is the essence of what I am sharing with them today:

1. The bare facts: 

              234 girls missing
              16-18 years old
              stolen from school in the middle of the night
              why the girls lived at school:

            Families had sent their girls to the rural school in Chibok for a desperately needed education. The northeastern town is part of Borno state, where 72% of primary-age children never attended school, according to the U.S. Embassy in Nigeria.

              in rural northern Nigeria
              by terrorists oppsoed to girls seeking an education
              taken to another country
              being sold for $12 a piece
 

2. Some perspective:
           

              more girls than the number of passengers on Malaysia Airlines Flight 370

              ten classrooms full of girls (based on US average of 23 kids in a classroom)

              families had invented approximately $1200 in these girls' education (based on $100 a year estimate for government school fees and supplies for 12 years)

              In a country where more than half than the people live on less $2 a day that is an investment                 of 1/3 of a family's income

              These girls were sitting for their final exams, just months away from significantly contributing                 to the income of their families

              Explain the impact the fear will have on other families and girls and the domino effect of                       thousands of girls afraid to go to school.


         
3. Lack of and late response of media

            Just doing the best I can to describe this in my own words to them and touching a little on the reality               of institutional racism and that the news media markets to an audience and covers what viewers will               watch. We'll have a conversation about what that says about the perspective of most viewers in                     developed nations.

4. Lack of government and world response:

            Again, doing what I can in my own words here. My kids have lived in developing nations. They are               well aware of how lack of infrastructure affects efficieny and ho long-standing cultural norms affect                 people in those nations. They are also pretty aware of the vulnerability of the poor to violence and                 the lack of protection afforded them. We'll just talk about how all this contributes to the reasons why             no real plan of action to locate the girls has yet been developed and instituted. I will ask them their                 ideas on what they would do if they were in political power in this situation.

5. And lastly, what they can do:

•             Pray...for the girls, for their families. But also for their captors and the government officials                   who can rescue them. I might share Sarah Bessey's beautiful post with them.
•             Read them the story of the Good Shepherd (timely since it will be Good Shepherd Sunday in               the Church this weekend) and ask them to think about why it is our responsibility to act as we             are able on behalf of these girls. How would the shepherd who went after the one lost sheep               want us to respond?
•             Have them sign the Change.org petition and write their note in their own words ( I am not sure             if there is an age for the petition, but I will have them to it anyway for the chance to articulate               their "why" response)
•             Introduce them to a few amazing online friends who are modern day freedom fighters and                   abolitionists

            
           

On Being a Brat, And a Bit of a Pharisee

So, it's been a bit of a stressful week around here in the mission field. We had some crazy unexpected moments when our bank (thankfully) noticed some fraudulent charges on our account and blocked our debit card, which is our only way to make purchases and access cash here. Then the notice from our landlord that they want to sell our house, so we need to be out by the end of January. Our oldest returning to Costa Rica after a time in the States, traveling alone internationally, through icy and snowy Detroit with threats of cancellations. And then, a twelve year old who required an emergency appendectomy and a three day hospital stay.

Ironically, this kid was a total champ and never complained once. Clearly, he has learned not follow my example.

And I am admitting that by the time I found myself shivering next to hospital bed at 4:00 am working on 20 minutes of sleep, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.

You see, living life overseas, you get a glimpse of the way the rest of the world sees Americans. And sometimes you get a glimpse of where their impression of us as a bit pushy and bratty comes from. I have come to self-righteously applaud myself for learning to blend in to another culture. To speak their language and do things their way and not get my feathers ruffled when it makes no sense to me. (Okay, I get them ruffled, but I keep it between me and my husband.) I do not think most Americans are at heart spoiled people who intend to be single-minded culturally. I think we do not quite realize how the fierce individualism that is a core value of our culture makes it easy for us to off as having a sense of entitlement in cultures where that kind of individualism does not have high value, where what is valued is an inherent understanding of cultural norms and rules and a willingness to quietly do what is expected.

I thought I had become pretty willing. I mean, I've gotten used to sweeping and mopping my front porch because it is a rule, and have instilled in my kids the fear of ever walking barefoot, and the habit of not showering at night because it is bad for you, and I even remember to have three forms of identification and documentation on me at all times.  I was a pretty proud little peacock, all right. Until our hospital stay revealed me for what I am, still a bit of a brat, and because of my pride, a bit of a pharisee too.

You see, when your child is sick, your comfort reactors go into overdrive, right? You want to mother and nest and make everything just so for him. In the States, our hospitals and doctor's offices tend to reflect that. There is an attempt to make things feel cozy and homey and give you some sense of control over the circumstances and environment. Here? Not so much?

We have discussed the reality of medical emergencies here before, theoretically. And agreed, theoretically, that the medical system is adequate to handle most situations that would occur and that the $70 a month we pay for total medical coverage made any small sacrifices we had to adjust to worth it. I was SO above the American bratiness that demanded everything be just so for my kids. And me.

Until I wasn't. Which happened when theory became reality.

I am embarrassed by how that ugly sense of entitlement reared its head. Never once was worried about my child's actual medical care. First of all, it was an appendectomy, not a brain tumor. Secondly, we were in the highest rated hospital in the country, where preemies are treated in intensive care, and kids are cured of cancer. I was totally confident in the actual medical care Gabriel received.

What made me uncomfortable and left me feeling like this was not good enough for my child (and if I'm being honest, me) was all purely environmental...ambience, people, the place lacked ambience. And there were so. many. rules. And it made me feel stupid and humiliated that I had no inherent understanding of those rules and had to be corrected to the not so understanding nurse supervisor. I felt like a child out of his element, and raw with emotions. And when a child in that situation gets corrected, how does he respond? Well, by pouting publicly on Facebook like a true brat, of course.

And pout I did. About the uncomfortable chairs and not being allowed to put my feet up. About not being allowed to charge my phone. Or eat my Hershey's kisses. And on the inside? I pouted about a whole host of other things. About only one of us being allowed to enter the hospital at a time. About the dumb card that has to get whole punched when you change care takers so you don't exceed your limit of three changes per day. About iron beds and three public showers and toilets for a ward of at least 50 kids. About nurses who talked loudly and flipped on light switches every fifteen minutes all. night. long.

I tried to convince myself it was just sleep deprivation, but when I started to have obsessive thoughts about Starbucks peppermint mocha cappuccinos and shopping for shoes, I had to admit the truth. I am still a bit of an individualistic, entitlement minded brat, and a bit of a pharisee for the way I've judged others with those tendencies.

Yeah. I bought shoes and new outfit to celebrate his release. Long way to go, I tell you.

I spent a long night repenting and ask God to show me how to be like the Virgin of the Manger, who laid her little down in less than perfect conditions and humbly accepted that God chooses to be Emmanuel in humble places, where there is room for Him because He is not crowded out by what was there before Him, where there is need for Him because the need is not met by self-sufficiency, and where a world cries out for Him the silent darkness because it has not lit its own way.

Yes, I was humbled by my confrontation with my inner brat and pharisee. But perhaps it was just what I need to bring me deep into the spirit of Advent. Seeing how far I have to go to truly be Christ-like. And seeing that on my own, I am just a pouting, broken little mess.

When we arrived at our hotel after Gabriel was released, the maid came to make the extra roll-away bed and was inquiring about how he was. She smiled wide and declared, "That hospital is the BEST. The nurses are so wonderful. My four year old son died of cancer there two years ago. But they helped him so, so much and were so kind to me." Apparently. not being able to put her feet up wasn't that big of a deal.

And so I find myself at the foot of the empty manger and begging Him to come. Emmanuel, come. And save me from myself. Because I am far from you. And I cannot raise myself up. I need you to come down and rescue me. Free me from by inner brat and my inner Pharisee. Let love burn away my messiness and bring me liberty. And make me happy in the stables where the Jesus-lovers belong.

So grateful that being a brat doesn't exempt you from having awesome kids.

Day 7 of Giving that Gives Back: The Philippines

A many of you know, in the last couple of days, a monster typhoon has wreaked devastation on parts of the Philippines. The death toll is rising by the minute and news is heartbreaking. The typhoon is now headed for Vietnam where it could do even more extensive damage. It is hard for us to understand the magnitude of this kind of event in a developing nation. The death tolls are higher, the recovery is endlessly more difficult and many areas that are hit in an event like this never fully recover before another disaster strikes. The people live in an endless cycle of crisis, poverty and fear.

So today, why not stop where you are and think of a way you could intentionally scale back a bit this Christmas in order to be able to help in this disaster response. There are a number of reputable organizations already mobilizing their existing forces on the ground there to get food, water and shelter to the victims.

What if you skipped stocking stuffing this year for the chance to get a family into safe shelter? Or didn't give gifts to one another as a couple and instead helped provide meals to the victims? What if you offered your kids the chance choose something to forego in order to be able to help? Like a trip to the movies that might have been on the schedule or one gift they might have been expecting. In my experience, kids are simple and heroic in their responses when offered an opportunity to help the hurting. Let your kids' be heroes.So often, we try to shield our kids from the sacrifice necessary to make a difference. We don't want them to "suffer" for the choices we want to make. But you know what? I think if we really want to change the world, the direct impact most readily available to us is our kids. If we can give them the outlook that they have the power to bring hope to a hurting world rather than trying to shield them from it, we are going to launch young adults into this world with vision and passion for justice.

Ask them what they would do if they were in charge of the response. What are their ideas on how to help? You'll be surprised at how innovative and pragmatic they are. Then introduce them to organizations doing the things they have proposed. Ask them how they might support that work. Give them the chance to think big, hope long and be heroic.

It won't be hard for you to find a group to help in the response efforts. I'm sure many of your favorite organizations would be a very worthy choice. I am going to link a few here for those who might be unsure of how to help. These organizations are groups that are already established in the Philippines and have the infrastructure in place to respond immediately to the needs that have resulted from Typhoon Yolanda. That is the one thing I would look for in choosing an organization. You want someone who has the ability to respond immediately and then sustain long-term recovery.

Here a few groups I know meet those criteria:

Feed My Starving Children

Food For The Hungry

Caritas International

Let's see what we can do this weekend to slow ourselves down, model care and compassion to our kids, encourage them to see the needs of a broken and hurting world and respond to them. However you decide to respond, I encourage you to make it a conversation with your kids. Let yourselves be surprised and moved by their hearts for their brothers and sisters and their creative problem solving skills. Give them a change to show you their inner hero.

All posts in this 31 day series are linked here.

Day 5 of Giving that Gives Back: Connected in Hope

CONNECTED IN HOPE

I am so excited today to have the opportunity to introduce you all to a wonderful opportunity to give in a way that gives back. Today, I am highlighting  Connected in Hope, a wonderful enterprise founded by my friend Ryane as a way to "empower women and strengthen families" in Ethiopia. The vision for this enterprise began when Ryane traveled to Ethiopia to adopt and fell in love with more than a child. Ryane has been very generous and supportive to me as I have worked to launch our Mercy Covers enterprise, so I am excited to share Connected in Hope with you today.

Connected in Hope supports the Former Women Fuel Carriers Association in Ethiopia as they work to transition women out of this difficult and often enslaving work into dignified and meaningful artisan crafting.
From the web site:

Subsequent trips to Ethiopia brought us face-to-face with women burdened the job of with carrying enormous bundles of fuel wood. They seemed to almost run as they rushed down the mountains around Addis Ababa to sell their bundles for less than $1. We learned about the enormous challenges they faced every day in an effort to provide even the basics of food and shelter for their families.   We saw the sadness in their eyes as they talked about leaving their sleeping children in the hours before dawn to gather fuel wood in the forest  Wild animals, harassment, rape were part of their daily lives.  We met children forced to quit school and work when the complications of HIV/AIDS left their mothers too ill to support the family.   We saw the realities of their lives – poverty, unsafe water, inadequate sanitation, not enough food.  The faces of the women fuel wood carriers and their children were imprinted on our hearts and left us forever changed- and committed!

I love that Connected in Hope is supporting and empowering local leadership in their efforts to accomplish this for their women. And Connected in Hope not only provides income development for their women, but also is improving education for their children, working to keep families together and prevent children from being orphaned, and addressing the difficult health care crisis in Ethiopia. This is amazing work, you guys!

Women are released from the back breaking and dangerous work of a fuel wood carrier to become artisans and the mothers they hope to be!

Not to mention that they make some of the most lovely scarves you have ever seen! Check out the darling Sarah from Amongst Lovely Things sporting hers. Here's what she has to say about these beautiful products: 

I love that I can wear a beautiful well-made scarf and connect with women and families across the globe. I feel like I'm wearing hope when I wear a CIH piece. And it's one of my favorite gifts to give!

Sarah rocking this whole mom of newborn twins thing in her Connected in Hope scarf.

Connected in Hope gives you a great step-by-step guide as to how you can help. Start with praying. Then go purchase a scarf or two because:

And remember yesterday when we talked about having a different kind of Christmas party? Why not host a Connected in Hope trunk show? 

You know what else is cool? When you make a purchase at Connected in Hope, the item comes signed by the artisan! So you can go find her and see her face and know her story, truly connecting yourself to the hope you are bringing into her life. 

You know what else is cool? Ryane has generously offered us a coupon code for free shipping for any purchases you make from the site! Just plug in GIVEHOPE2 at checkout for free shipping in the online store.

So let's build some hope in Ethiopia today while purchasing high quality, meaningful gifts for the Christmas season. And share this post with your friends and readers too so they can get connected in hope and enjoy our coupon!

Just coming on board today? Follow and share the links to the whole series

here in the original post.