Better Together

There is one thing I know.  We are better together.  We really, really are.  We need each other.  We need each other's encouragement, strength, motivation and resources.  Alone, we can be like a crippled climber standing at the base of a mountain wondering how in the world we will ever make it up.  But together, we help each other.  We push each other out of our comfort zones.  We tell each other that yes, we can do this. Together.  

And together, we have done something beautiful for a community of 200 vulnerable children in Ethiopia.  

Back in December, I asked you all to join me in raising money to go towards new kitchen facilities for Hands for the Needy in Ethiopia.  And you did.  A lot of times, we don't get to see the direct impact of our resources and prayers.  But today, you do.  I share these pictures with you with an overwhelmingly grateful heart.  I am so thankful I am not alone in this.  I am so in awe that God has moved in hearts all over the U.S. to engage us in the cause of the oppressed and the vulnerable.  I am so, so amazed at what we can do together.  

Two years ago, I walked into Hands for the Needy and saw the cooks prepping food outside...

Sisters... can you imagine prepping meals in this environment?? And yet, it's what these women did tirelessly.

There was a small metal room where they kept their cooking supplies...

The cooks would spend hours (no exaggeration) hunched over on the ground chopping vegetables...

But now, because of you... they now have this...

Isn't it BEAUTIFUL?! This will be so much more efficient and sanitary for the cooks and the children.  Cooking for 210 kids will be so much easier with no more smoke inhalation from open fires.  I am beyond thrilled with what we have done together, friends!!  And it's all so that the sweet kiddos can enjoy healthy, nutritious meals every day...

When we look at global poverty issues, they are big, giant beasts that seem impossible to slay.  But one community at a time, we are making a difference.  These kids were eating out of the garbage dump just two years ago.  And look at them now.  Together, we can change the world.  We ARE changing the world.  Don't let anyone ever tell you that your help won't matter.  Because it does.  These kids are proof.  

I have an overflowing heart today and I wish I could thank each of you who donated in person.  You know who you are and I pray these photos will touch your heart and bolster your courage to continue to engage in helping these vulnerable children.  

Thank you, thank you, thank you.  From the bottom of my heart.  I know God has big plans for each of these kids and you are a part of making it happen.  How cool is that?! 

We are indeed, better together.  Always. 

JOY

I love Christmas.  I mean LOVE it.  I might be its biggest fan.  So much so, that after an all night 20 hour drive back home from Thanksgiving in Ohio, we pulled in the driveway at 5:45 a.m., took a two hour power nap and then proceeded to decorate the house for Christmas. 

We trimmed the tree...

We set up the Nativity scene...

We hung the stockings above the fireplace and then I noticed...

Yoj?? My "joy" was all backwards from hanging the garland a different way on the fireplace than I did last year.  I started to untie it so I could turn it around but then stopped.  Yoj.  Haven't I had the source of my joy backwards so often?  Haven't I looked for joy in the having and the getting?  The stuff instead of the Savior?  

We so carelessly sing the words to "Joy to the World" without swallowing whole their meaning...

JOY TO THE WORLD!!  THE LORD IS COME!  It was Christ's coming that brought the world into full joy.  It was God's GIVING that brings us a reason to sing.  So, my family is committing itself to no more backwards joy.  We want the real thing...

Mark Twain said "To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with."  And this season, there is a whole community of children in Korah, Ethiopia who we want to share the joy with.  You know how you meet someone and your encounter with them somehow changes forever who you are?  Well, that is what this precious community of kids has done for my family.  It has changed us forever.  They have shared their joy with us and now we get to share with them this Christmas.  Gone are the Christmases  of accumulating things for ourselves.  There's no real life found there.  It's in the giving, plain and simple. It makes me quite giddy, this giving.  

So, we invite you to give right along with us.  Through Children's HopeChest's Change Their Story 2012 Campaign, we are raising $5,000 that will go toward nutrition for the 210 kids at Hands for the Needy care point in Ethiopia.  The funds will go toward providing meat for the children on a consistent basis (right now, they only have meat twice a year on holidays), providing the cooks with electricity and stoves which will improve efficiency and reduce smoke inhalation, and also providing food for families who are in dire circumstances with nothing to eat.  

Let me share this another way...

I had the absolute joy of spending a few hours in a 10x20 corrugated metal building that makes up the kitchen at Hands for the Needy with these women...

 They spent hours hunched over chopping vegetables to prepare the meal for the kids in the feeding program.  

 They tended to two gigantic pots of stew over an open fire, choking on smoke the whole time.  And they did it all with joy in their hearts and smiles on their faces. 

Imagine their smiles if they had improved kitchen facilities and could more easily prepare their 210 meals!!

The children are so grateful for the opportunity to come to the care point and receive a healthy meal.  In July when we were there, we were able to provide a feast with two lambs.  We slaughtered the sheep on site and it was priceless to see their faces because they knew a good meal was coming!

Imagine what it would do for them to have such a great source of protein consistently!

Meet Benalfew.

he is an 8 year old boy who comes to the care point daily.  He lives with his mom in a small 8x10 room.  The way his mother has provided for them is by scavenging for plastics in the dump.  The week we were there, she stepped on a syringe that went into her foot.  Benalfew took us to his home to visit her, as she couldn't get out of bed at all since her foot was immensely swollen with infection.  

8 year old Benalfew, Sisay (staff at Hands for the Needy) and Benalfew's mother.

Benalfew's mother profusely thanked Yemamu and Sisay for taking such good care of him and feeding him daily.  She said that since she hadn't been able to go to the garbage dump because of her injury, there was no food at home.  Sisay and Yemamu had brought a supply of food with them to leave with her and her eyes filled up with tears.  She told them how Benalfew always comes home happy from the care point and how their lives have changed since he's been sponsored.  Now, she can eat sometimes because she doesn't have to worry about feeding Benalfew.  Her relief was palpable.  As we gathered around her to pray a blessing over her, she asked in a hushed whisper if we would please pray that she hadn't contracted HIV from the needle that went into her foot at the dump. Through our tears, we held hands and prayed together, asking God for a miracle. 

As much as we wish Benalfew's mother's story was the exception in Korah, it's not.  Our hope is that the money we raise through the Change Their Story Campaign this December will help provide a fund that can be used for situations such as this one.  

What Ben and I have been able to witness at Hands for the Needy time and time again is hope and transformation.  There is nothing else we would rather shout from the mountaintops this Christmas than "Joy to the world!  The Lord is come!".  He has come to the community of Korah and is changing lives every day.  We encourage you and your loved ones to consider giving to this campaign so that we can share the joy we have so freely been given.  Let's not waste another Christmas confusing the source of our joy.  It is found in giving like we've been given to.  There's just nothing like it. 

You can donate HERE.  We would be honored if you would share this link with your community of friends and family. 

Thank you so very much.   

You Made Me Yours

There is a movement across the United States to make the first Sunday of every November "Orphan Sunday".  Many pastors use the pulpit on this weekend as a platform to raise awareness of the orphan crisis and call a sleepy Church to action.  My husband, Ben is in Seattle this weekend with Tom Davis doing that very thing. I am so thankful that people are recognizing God's heart for the orphan and, more importantly, moving beyond recognition to action that is rooted in love and justice.  

I stumbled upon these two photos tonight from our trip to Ethiopia in June.  Both of these were taken on our last day in Addis after having spent two weeks with both of our sponsored girls through Children's HopeChest. These were the final moments of saying good-bye...

Maezanesh, age 16

Mekdes, age 6

Both these precious girls don't have daddies.  I literally get choked up every time I look at these photos.  Mekdes and Maezanesh look SO happy and content receiving affection from Ben.  I think all three of them could have stayed in these moments forever.  

These girls aren't a statistic to us.  When we hear that there are somewhere around 163 million orphans in the world we think of Maezanesh and Mekdes.  We see THEIR faces.  We know THEIR stories.  We have laughed with them, held their hands, been in their homes and we love them.  We feel the weight of the loss they have known in their lives.  We have been so very blessed by them.

I think the photo of Ben with Maezanesh speaks volumes.  You can look in her eyes and see her literally drinking in the value, love and worth that Ben is speaking into her with just his tear filled eyes, his smile and his outstretched hand on her cheek - no words necessary.  People talk about magic moments.  This is no magic, people - this is what the real love of the Father looks like to an orphan.  This is what the love of the Father looks like to ME.  

We are all orphans at our core... longing for that arm of grace and love to so gently reach out and touch our cheek.  We long to have someone recognize us as valuable and beautiful regardless of our history.  We want to soak up every last drop of affection and love that we can.  But God has not left us as orphans - He has come to us and made us His own.  And we get the immense joy of looking Maezanesh and Mekdes in the eyes and saying to them "You are daughters.  You are loved and valued more than you can possibly imagine.  Pay no attention to the world that says you are worthless, because you are daughters of the King."  

I love these girls... with everything in me, I love them.  And it's not of my own merits that I love them, but simply because as the scripture says "Christ's love compels us". I look at my own broken life and the One who is piecing it all back together and I can't help but want to be a part of that same work of restoration in the lives of orphans who feel forgotten and alone. 

Back in April, I sat in a friend's living room and listened to Tim and Laurie Thornton of The Blackthorn Project sing the following words...

isn't it just like you to invite me into a warm house

isn't it just like you to stroke my hair as I fall asleep

Father you made me yours

found my orphan heart and brought it home

and I'm safe here and I sing

isn't it just like you to make a slave into your daughter

isn't it just like you to make wine out of dirty water

I used to live in chains

my wounds bled to the ground

my bed was out in the rain

my hair in knots and soaked in mud

but you took my hand

and you led me in

and you combed my hair

you kissed my skin

and you gave me food

you made me yours

YOU MADE ME YOURS.

In June I remember watching Mekdes walk through the doorway at the feeding center.  It had been raining and her feet were caked with mud,  her hair was matted and her clothes were soaked and filthy.  She ran right to me and put both hands up in the air signaling she wanted to be picked up.  I scooped her up instantly and smiled as she ran her dirty hands along my hair and face.  We giggled.  She belonged.  I belonged.  We were both daughters living in a moment of joy in the middle of the dirt. There is no describing this feeling to you.  It's like coming home... two orphaned hearts looking into each other's eyes and recognizing the Father.  Powerful stuff, friends.  It IS heaven on earth.  And there's more to be had.  Don't miss out.

Stopping For The One

"Do not be fooled by the luxuries of this world; they cripple our faith. Like Jesus explained, the right things have to die so the right things can live – we die to selfishness, greed, power, accumulation, prestige, and self-preservation, giving life to community, generosity, compassion, mercy, brotherhood, kindness, and love." - Jen Hatmaker




Easter is almost here.  Every year it comes, and every year I somehow forget all the emotion that springs up in me as a result.  I am reminded of my weakness and my brokenness.  And I become more convinced of the newness of life I am meant to have.  I think of that dark Friday centuries and centuries ago where the sky was dark, the earth shook, the veil was torn and Love died.  For me.  For you.  But Love didn't die and leave us alone.  Love died so that we might never be alone.  So that we might know in the deepest parts of ourselves that we are the beloved.  We are meant to live for so much more.

Love has brought life and transformation into my own life.  Love has taken what was broken and pieced it back together.  Love has breathed life into what was dead and lifeless.  Love has restored and redeemed me.  It has taken what was gray and brought color.  Love hasn't solved all my problems.  Love has entered into my problems with me.  Love compels me. And it's this same Love that is doing something new in 150 little lives in the middle of Ethiopia. 

It was two years ago that I met a man named Yemamu in Ethiopia.  Love united our hearts and I knew as my airplane left Ethiopian soil that Love had connected us for a bigger purpose.  And now, two years later, it is with great joy that I get to tell you about an opportunity we have together to see Love and restoration enter one of the most hopeless communities on the face of the planet.

Yemamu's NGO "Hands for the Needy Ethiopia" has now officially partnered with Children's HopeChest to help bring 150 precious kiddos food, clean water, medical care and hope.  These kids are the most vulnerable children in the community of Korah.  They have been eating garbage from the city dump and wearing clothes they found there.  Many of them have lost parents to disease.  Some of them have been begging in the city.  All of them - ALL OF THEM - are important.  They are the ones, just like us, that Love came for. 

Before I go any further, I want to stop for a minute.  I was reminded this morning of the story of blind Bartimaeus in scripture.  In Mark chapter 10, one week before Jesus dies on the cross, he is walking with a crowd through Jericho.  He hears a voice shouting out to Him "Jesus, have mercy on me!" And Jesus stopped.  He didn't stop to tell him to be quiet.  He stopped so He could call Bartimaeus over to Him.  Everyone around Bartimaeus is telling him to shut up and not to make such a scene, but he keeps shouting.  Jesus asks him what he wants and Bartimaeus simply says "I want to see." He wants the most basic and important of his needs taken care of.  And Jesus says "Go.  Your faith has healed you." And Bartimaeus received his vision back and his life was changed. 

Here is Jesus knowing He has the cross to face soon, with much on His mind, I'm sure, stopping for the one that no one else would have stopped for.  He stopped for the one that wasn't seen or noticed by others.  He stopped for the one that everyone was telling to shut up.  What was on his mind, the things he had to do...none of that stopped Him.  We catch a beautiful glimpse into the heart of God here.  Talk about newness and transformation.  Talk about new life.  Imagine how Bartimaeus' life changed.  All because Jesus heard him call out and loved him enough to stop and restore his life.

And, honestly, that's what God has been asking of me.  He is asking me to stop for these 150 little ones on the other side of the world who have no one listening to their cries.  He is asking me to see the potential they have for transformation.  He is asking me to see how much He loves them.  He is asking me to love them the way that He does.  Wholly.  Unselfishly.  Without expecting anything in return.  God is asking me to slow down and take notice.  And so I find myself responsible for helping make sure these 150 little ones are seen and sponsored by people like you. 

The crazy thing is that we as Westerners simply don't understand what an impact stopping for one will make in their lives.  We don't know how $34 a month literally helps take Biruk or Tsegenesh or Melkam from death to life.  We can't imagine how a relationship with a child on the other side of the world will transform our own hearts.  We don't know the dignity that these kids receive from an education, a new pair of shoes or access to food.  Because we already have it.  And so much more.  We have never had to even think about our dignity.  It's been handed to us on a silver platter simply because of our geographic location. 

Guys, I don't have adequate words to tell you how beautiful these 150 children are.  I don't have language to describe how my heart feels for all of them.  I wish you all could meet them.  I wish you could see their smiles that radiate despite their circumstances.

I am one person.  Just one.  As much as I wish I could sponsor all 150 kids, I can't.  And frankly, I wouldn't want to rob you of the joy that comes when you enter into a relationship with one of these kiddos. 

So, this Easter I am just asking you to stop for one.  Just like Jesus did.  Will you hear them calling out to have their basic needs met? In the midst of the Easter baskets and meals to prepare and clothes to get ready, will you consider stopping for the ones Jesus cares so much about? 

I was thinking yesterday about the incredible sacrifice Jesus made for us so that we could live in abundant life.  And I was wondering if my life is being lived in appropriate response to the gift of Love and Life that He gave.  Jesus' love was radical.  It stopped at nothing for us.  I just want to love with all that I am.  God doesn't need our $34 a month. He just doesn't want us to miss out on what giving our love away looks like.  It was in giving His love away that God turned this world upside down.  I want in on the upside down Kingdom of God.  I want to engage in a story that is bigger than myself. 

I'm at a loss for words, friends.  There is nothing that I can do on my own to see that these 150 children find sponsors.  It is completely in God's hands to provide.  But I must be faithful to share the need with you.  I won't guilt you into sponsoring a child.  I just simply ask that you ask God about it. 

You can go HERE to see all the precious faces that represent lives and stories and laughter and love.  In a matter of five minutes, you can take care of sponsorship online.  You know where to find me if you have any questions.  :)  Oh, and while you're there...check out Mekdes Fanta, a sweet little 5 year old girl who is the newest member of my Ethiopian family. When I was in Korah in September we found her wandering the streets and brought her into the center for a meal.  We found out that her mother has to leave her alone every day so she can go find daily work to try to feed her. Now, she is sponsored.  She is my "One". Pure joy.

Thank you for reading, for listening, for stopping for the one...

"Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." - John 13:34

All Things New

His face is etched on my heart, this 10 year old boy who lives at the garbage dump in Addis Ababa with his father.  His father, whose wife was murdered leaving him with 6 children he couldn't care for.  His father, who had to send four of his kids to government orphanages.  His father, who loves them all and must weep heavy tears over their separation.  As a parent, I can't imagine what it must take to make those kinds of choices. 



His son, Habtamu has a smile that swallows you up when you're lucky enough to get one. 

He was so shy when we first met at my friend Yemamu's feeding center. I wondered what his life must be like....what it feels like to wake up under a tarp in the city dump and know that this is your life. To watch your father work late into the night scavenging for metals and plastics just so you can have a little food.  He told me how he would walk very far down the road to wait for the garbage truck that was on its way to the dump from the Sheraton Hotel.  He told me how if the driver was nice, he would slow down so that Habtamu and his friends could jump on the back, making them the first ones to have dibs on the freshest garbage...the "best" food. 

I watched the camaraderie between him and his friends from the garbage dump.  I was amazed at his capacity for joy.

One of the board members from the Hands For The Needy center came for a visit one day with his young son.  I watched in fascination two worlds collide.  I watched Habtamu pick up the coveted soccer ball and hand it to this privileged little boy, smiling.

My eyes filled.  This ten year old knows that "happiness is found not in the having, but in the handing over."

 
And there I sat, learning lessons from a ten year old across the room.  The poor have much to give.  And the rich have much to receive from the poor.  And receive, I did from this little boy over the coming days. 

He was one of the 12 boys we took to buy new clothes and shoes for.  We ended up spending quite a bit of time together in a taxi going from one market to another.  And in that time, we bonded.  He sat beside me holding my arm and tracing the blue of my veins with his finger.  He was fascinated to be able to see what was under my skin. :) I showed him pictures on my iPhone of my family and of snow on the mountains.  I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, wondering how long it had been since he had felt a mother's touch. 

We spent a long day together trying to find shoes and clothing for all the boys.  Habtamu laid his head on me and fell asleep for a while.  I just kept thinking how badly he must miss his mother.  I wondered at how easily he let me just love him. 

We took them out to eat a good meal.  On the way home I was sitting behind him in the taxi.  He reached his arm up and pulled my hand over the seat so he could hold it. 

Black and white skin held each other.  I wondered if he knew his veins were blue on the inside too.  I wondered if by now he realized we were far more alike than we were different.  I needed him and he needed me.  He started fingering the diamonds on the wedding ring I had forgotten to leave behind in the States.  I immediately felt ashamed.  I wanted to pry it off my finger and hide the symbol of my wealth.  I thought about how much money I could get if I sold it.  I thought about how little it actually takes to change the trajectory of a little boy's life.  And my tears fell silently as I held his hand.  My heart cried out a repentant prayer. 

By now we were driving in the dark of night.  A garbage truck pulled up in the lane next to us and the boys started yelling out the window at the kids who were riding on top.  It would have been them that night, riding on top of that truck.  The irony was not lost on me.

I smelled the garbage dump before I made it out in the dark.  Habtamu squeezed my hand more tightly.  My heart started to beat a little faster.  Were we really just going to drop these boys off at the garbage dump to go sleep under a tarp?  Everything in me wanted to scream. It wasn't right. The taxi pulled over to the side of the road.  I think I was literally shaking as I stepped out to make way for the boys to exit the taxi.  Habtamu held a bag of left over food to give to his father who was working late into the night.  All twelve beautiful, stinky boys gave me hugs and said thank you.  Habtamu hugged me tightly.  I kissed the top of his head and told him I'd see him tomorrow.  He whispered thank you then wrapped his arm around his friend Zerehun and started walking into the piles of garbage.  I climbed back in the taxi and totally lost it.  Yemamu put his hand on my shoulder and told me they were okay...that they had each other and were happy.  And he was probably right.  But I still couldn't reconcile the fact that we had just dropped kids off to go sleep in the city dump while I went to my nice compound to sleep in my bed.  I wept all the way home. 

The coming days were filled with a lot of activity, but Habtamu and Zerehun started to accompany us wherever we went and just help out.  We took them both to church, which they loved.  I could feel the time ticking quickly away until I had to leave.  On the Sunday we left, we had Habtamu and Zerehun and my friend Lindsey's sponsored child with us at our compound.  Yemamu and Sisay were playing soccer with the boys.  They were running and laughing and tripping over each other.  It felt like a Sunday afternoon at my own house with my kids playing happily.  I smiled as I clicked away with my camera.

That Sunday afternoon was beautiful.  The boys were free to just be boys.  They played, they laughed, they joked around, they let down.  It was a blessing for all of us to just enjoy each other's company and love each other.  Saying good-bye was awful.  But I think all of us learned so much from each other in our two weeks together.  Watching these boys receive love from Yemamu and Sisay filled my heart.  I know that they are looked after and cared for by these two men who are investing their lives in them. 

It was only about one week after I got home from Ethiopia that Yemamu called me and said that Desse, Habtamu's father was gravely ill.  They feared for his life.  He was suffering from severe Hepatitis and had a raging infection that his body was not fighting off.  Yemamu and Sisay had brought him from the garbage dump to the Center and were trying get him medical attention.  Yemamu asked me to pray.  I had an immediate lump in my throat as he told me the news.  All I could think of was this...

I remember literally falling to my knees and begging God to spare this man.  I could not bear the thought of Habtamu losing his father too.  I simply couldn't.  Yemamu sent me this picture of Desse...

I literally asked everyone I knew to join in me in praying for this man.  About a week later, I got a phone call from Yemamu telling me that Desse was completely better.  He was healed. Totally and completely.  I'm pretty sure I was jumping up and down in my bedroom when I got the news. I was reminded of this scripture from Psalm 72:12-13:

For he will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help. He will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death.

And that's exactly what happened.  Desse says that he was as good as dead, but that God reached down and rescued Him and restored his life.  Desse is now working at the Hands for the Needy Center as the gardener, tending to the crops they are growing.  Yemamu is working to secure a house for Desse and Habtamu close to the Center. 

GOD MAKES ALL THINGS NEW.

Extracting the Precious from the Worthless

Etanaite and her son

out·cast
noun


1. a person who is rejected or cast out, unwanted, not accepted
2. rejected matter; garbage

She lives in a community already rejected by the world around it. Yet, within Korah she has been tossed aside herself. It's a curious thing, how people who are outcasts themselves can put that label even more brutally on one of their own. She did nothing to cause this, nothing to deserve being shunned by her own community.

She was raped. Just before turning 17.

She now has a son just one year old as a result of that rape.

And while she may be labeled an outcast, she has a name - Etanaite. And behind her name is a beautiful human being, both inside and out.  If people would only take the time to see.

My friends Yemamu and Sisay did take the time to see.  Because of that, we were welcomed into Etanaite's home to hear her story firsthand.  

We stepped into her one room house to find her little brother and her son playing by the bench.

The room couldn't have been more than 6x8. We asked how many people lived in the room.  There were 7 of them.  Etanaite's mother, Etanaite and her baby, and Etanaite's four siblings.  

They all slept on this bed or on the floor...

There used to be eight of them in this small room, until about 6 months ago when her father died.  He was blind and would go into the city to beg on the streets. The money he brought home would feed them on some days.  After his death, Etanaite's mother, Zenebe, went to the garbage dump to scavenge for food and materials to sell.  The dump is where she found the bottle her grandson is holding below. Dirty doesn't begin to describe it.

Zenebe and her grandson

After Etanaite was raped and gave birth to her son, she found work outside the city in the countryside making fabric.  She made 450birr ($26)a month.  Half of that money went to pay the rent for their one room house and the other half went to pay for her transportation to work.  There was no money for food other than what her father brought in from begging.  When he died, the family started struggling even more. Zenebe started going to the dump with her grandson on her back to find food.

What heightens the tragedy of this situation for me is that this family is alone.  Because of the stigma associated with rape and with giving birth out of wedlock, they are shut out. They live in a community that they are not welcomed in.  As we listened to Etanaite tell her story, tears slid down her face.  Now, at the age of 18, she knows she has no prospects for marriage because of a horror that was perpetrated against her.  Along with mourning the loss of her father, she mourns the loss of her future. Or at least she did, until Love walked through the doorway of her house in the form of Yemamu and Sisay. Jeremiah 29:11 says that God has plans for Etanaite.  Plans to prosper her and to give her a hope and a future. And that is exactly what is happening.

Can you even imagine what Etanaite must have thought as Yemamu and Sisay came into her home and asked how their family was?  When was the last time anyone had asked that simple question of her? But they went further than just talk.  They registered her siblings in their feeding program to help alleviate some of the financial stress on the the family.  And they then proceeded to offer Etanaite a job at the Center helping to cook and clean, which she joyfully accepted.  They pay her twice what she was making at her job outside the city and she now just has to walk for two minutes to work, allowing her to use her transportation money for something else.  Etanaite's brother had been struggling and sleeping at the garbage dump without coming home since their father's death, but now that he is enrolled in the feeding program he has changed.  She says he comes home every day and is like a different person.  Etanaite said that they have so much hope now.

We had bought baby bottles, blankets and a new dress for Zenebe, which we gave to her on our last day in Ethiopia. Yemamu and Sisay had brought two mattresses from their own home to give them so that the children would not have to sleep on the dirty, hard floor. Etanaite's tears flowed freely upon receiving the gifts.  I asked Yemamu why she was crying and he said it was because she was very, very happy.  She said no one had ever treated them this way and cared for them like this.  She said that she thanked God for the new life they could start to make for themselves because of the feeding program and her new job.

What I really think she was thanking God for was that someone had stopped to see their pain and enter into it with them.  Someone had cared.  There's a little verse tucked away in Jeremiah 15 that says "And if you extract the precious from the worthless, you will become My spokesman". That's exactly what Yemamu & Sisay have done.  They have taken time to see that which is precious hidden away in the seemingly worthless, and they have called it out.  By their love and care for Etanaite she is seeing that she is NOT an outcast to the One that really matters - to the One who knit her together and knows the number of hairs on her head.  She is a daughter of the King and is valuable and precious in His eyes. 

And isn't this every one of our stories, really?  Hasn't God taken our broken, messed up lives and transformed them into something beautiful and precious? Hasn't He rescued us from the label of outcast and given us an identity as His own children, despite our history? Hasn't He offered us hope?

There are Etanaite's all around us...people who have been rejected and labeled.  Will we make the choice like Yemamu did to seek them out? Will we reach out in compassion and kindness?  Will our actions on their behalf prove our words to them? Will we reflect the heart of God in extracting the precious from the worthless?

"For God is a God of the humble, the miserable, the troubled, the oppressed, the despairing, and those who have become totally nothing. He lifts the lowly, feeds the hungry, heals the blind, comforts the miserable and troubled.  For He is the almighty Creator who makes everything from nothing." - Luther

The Boys

So, if you missed my last post about the garbage dump, you might want to go read it so that this post makes sense.  The garbage dump in Korah (Ethiopia) ripped my heart out.  Or, maybe I should say the people who go to the garbage dump every day or LIVE there ripped my heart out.  Garbage is garbage, but the people who are left with no choice but to frequent this hell hole are not. 

The day we walked through the dump I knew we were going to give food to the boys who lived there.  But you just can't prepare yourself for something like that.  You can't understand the stench, the filth, the grime that these boys live in until you see it.  Until the smell hits your nostrils and turns your stomach.  Until you try to scrape off layers of muddy filth from hands that have been searching through the garbage for unfound "treasures".

 Until you struggle to see what's in front of you because of the hoards of flies buzzing all around.  Until you step in the excrement that is everywhere.  Until you take in the faces of the ones who live in it all day every day.

My friends Yemamu and Sisay who grew up scavenging in this dump, intentionally continue to walk through it to find children just like the ones they met above.  They want to bring them into the feeding program they run and help provide for their basic needs and education.  Understand that NO ONE goes into the trash dump if they don't have to.  But Yemamu and Sisay choose to go.  They no longer have to, but they are compelled.  Much like Jesus who went to the forgotten, the outcast, the people deemed worthless - the least of these.  He sought them out.  There was something precious Jesus saw in the people that the world had turned their backs on.  And let me tell you, there is plenty that is precious about the boys above too.

We took these 12 boys who live in the garbage dump back to the Hands for the Needy center to profile them for the program.  I want to protect their exact identities, but here are just a few snippets from some of their stories...

Boy #1: Not in school. He and his father live at the trash dump.  Mother was murdered. His father had to relinquish his other 5 children to government orphanages because he could not afford to care for them. This boy wants to go to school and be a doctor.

Boy #2: Not in school. Has a mother but is not living with her because she is a beggar and lives on the street. He wants to be a pharmacist.

Boy #3: Age 16. His parents died when he was 5 and he lived on the street. He lives at the dump now and from what he makes from the metals he collects there, he pays for himself to go to school. He wants to be a teacher.

Boy #4: Age 14. He stopped school last year. He has a mother who lives in Korah but he left to go live at the dump because she was abusive, but he wants to go back home and live peacefully with her. He wants to be a teacher.

Boy #5: Age 11. Not in school.  His parents died when he was a young child.  He has had no one to care for him and has lived in the trash dump ever since. He wants to be a doctor.

As we heard from these boys, each of their stories was more raw and painful than the last.  Yet the way these boys cared for each other was beautiful and amazing.  Talk about a sense of community and brotherhood...these boys had it.  But as a mom I just wanted to gather them all up and hug them and never let go. 

The boys find everything in the dump - including their clothing.  They find clothes, wear them for two weeks, then throw them back in the dump once they find "newer" clothes.  It's disposable clothing in the truest sense of the word.  And their shoes...

NONE of their shoes fit them, and few of them actually matched.  They just used what they could find.  I think about all the sharp things I encountered in the dump and I look at the flimsy plastic boot on the boy above and I cringe.  Everyone on my team did.  So, we decided to do something about it. 

We decided to pack up all twelve boys into a taxi along with our whole crew for a total of 22 people in this small "bus".  It was hilarious...you can watch a video of us piling everyone in HERE. And we took all 12 boys to the Mercado to buy good, sturdy shoes that actually fit them.  On the way, some of the boys from the dump discovered the wonders of my iPhone. :)  By the end of the bus ride I got an error message from my iPhone that it needed to "cool down" because it was overheating from use. :)

We got to the shoe store.  I'm not sure there are words to describe the looks we got when walked in.  At this point, the boys were still in their clothes from the dump.  It was their first time in a store ever to purchase something for themselves.  All of us looked a little bewildered at where to start, including the staff.  We did the boys by groups - youngest first then the oldest.  It was seriously so fun to watch their faces as they waited to be fit. Let's just say we brought a special smell with us into the store. :)  Because of that, the store owner made the boys wear plastic bags over their feet when they tried the shoes on.

Everyone walked out of there with a new pair of shoes.  I can't tell you how big the smiles were and how much my heart wanted to explode at how happy such a simple thing made them.  Meanwhile, it took so long to get 12 boys fitted for shoes that our taxi driver (Yemamu's brother) resorted to napping :).

We had brought some second hand clothing from the States, but quickly realized we didn't have anything for the majority of the boys, so we also took them to buy pants, underwear, socks and sweatshirts.  Because there were so many of us and because the prices for things go up substantially when the shopkeepers at the Mercado see white skin, we girls stayed back in the taxi while Yemamu and Sisay bartered.  Some of the older boys were with us in the taxi waiting their turn.  I looked back and saw one of the boys taking it all in from the taxi window. He sat there gazing outside...

 I wondered what he was thinking as he watched all the people scurrying into shops and buying the things they needed.  I thought about how when he needed something, he went scavenging through a trash heap.  He was usually one of the people who watched all the taxis drive by as they walked to their destination.  Yet here he was sitting inside of one observing things from the opposite standpoint for the first time.  I honestly can't imagine what was going through his head. 

Once everyone had purchased all that they needed, it was dark.  It had taken hours to accomplish all the shopping.  My stomach was hungry and I looked around at the boys.  Yemamu leaned over and asked if we could take the boys out to dinner.  Um...YES!!!  So we went...all five of us crazy white people and a trail of 12 boys from the dump.  The boys hadn't changed into their new clothes because we wanted them to shower first, so they were still in their clothing that reeked of trash.  The looks we got all filing into the restaurant were priceless.  I'm quite sure they didn't know what to make of us all.  I wanted to stop and take a picture of the people looking at us, but figured that would be rude. :)  Here's the view from one end of the long table...

We ordered everyone Cokes, which was a big deal for the boys.  Actually, scratch that.  Just being at a restaurant was a big deal for the boys.  For most of them, it was their first time.  Can you imagine?  So, after we ordered dinner and Cokes we did what any ignorant Americans would.  We offered them hand sanitizer.  I wish I had video of THAT!  Ethiopians eat with their hands and often hand feed each other as a sign of respect and love.  So, we Americans are thinking the boys could use some hand sanitizer considering they spend all day in a garbage dump.  We pull out our bottles and start squeezing it into the boys' hands.  Yemamu and Sisay start explaining that it's just like soap and like washing their hands.  All the boys are smiling and laughing until...here's where the ignorant part comes in...all of the open cuts on their hands start stinging from the alcohol that's in the sanitizer.  I'm sitting there watching all their eyes get really wide and they tell Yemamu that it hurts their hands.  So we Americans show them how to wave their hands in the air so that it will dry quickly and the burning will go away.

Then they all promptly got up and went to wash their hands. So funny. :)  We had a GREAT time at dinner, as you can imagine.  The boys were smiling and eating.  Sisay got up and was hand feeding some of the older boys rather large handfuls of food. :) We even talked a few of the older boys into showing us what traditional Ethiopian dancing looked like...

It was a fabulous day.  It felt good to use our resources (which many of you readers generously donated!) to help provide for the boys in such practical ways and it was pure joy to see their faces have these first time experiences.  There was so much laughter that night.  I'll remember it for the rest of my life.  Now, dropping the boys back off at the dump that night is another blog post altogether...