Archived entries for Girl Effect

Ruth Anaya: Building Bridges to Kenya

“We listen. We learn. We hear wisdom in the voice of the elders, and sometimes in the voices of children.”

By Christi Walter

I get to write about women who are being the change in their community and do ministry where their feet are.

For that reason, I recently sat down at a little coffee shop Walnut Grove with a former professor of mine who still inspires and challenges me. Ruth Anaya is Assistant Professor of Cross-Cultural & Leadership Communication & Development Studies at Trinity Western University and a current Ph.D candidate. Her days are abundantly full teaching and researching, while she’s also a wife and mother to two teenage boys. Still, she has another foot planted in a Kenyan village, worlds away from the Canadian suburbs.

Ruth is warm and sincere with fair skin, freckles and a smile that reaches her eyes. I won’t soon forget the first class I took of hers: a travel study to Guatemala. Since the best way to learn Cross-Cultural Communication is through personal experience, Ruth takes Trinity students to either Central America or Africa every year. The program is packed with hands-on learning. We explored the cities, spent a day learning a craft from local artisans and met people from all walks of life. Ruth imparted her passionate belief in the importance of relationship and communication in development work.

Ruth has been to over 30 countries and worked in Africa for several years. Since settling down in BC, she’s been back several times, both with her family and on her own. During her travels, Ruth and her family built a deep connection with the people of Muhanda, a village in Western Kenya.

“Their hospitality is absolutely amazing,” says Ruth.

Ruth and her husband Petra, a Kenyan native, were inspired to come alongside the village and help in any way they could. In 2009, they founded Hands On Development Initiatives (HODI), a non-profit dedicated to finding innovative ways for rural communities to end the poverty cycle.

The couple partner with a variety of people from business owners to government officials and more. Many of these people owe their success to the community’s generosity and are eager to give back. So far, HODI has given Muhanda access to clean water, opened a much-needed maternity clinic and created scholarships to help students complete their education.

Although Muhanda is one of the poorest places in Kenya, Ruth was struck by the radical hope, ingenuity and generosity of its residents. Her work with them has grown organically out of relationship; a symbiotic partnership. HODI’s website says, “We listen. We learn. We hear wisdom in the voice of the elders, and sometimes in the voices of children.”

It was by listening carefully that they learned about local AIDS orphans living with their grandparents, and were able to help them. “They were just destitute,” Ruth says.  It’s the invisible ones HODI seeks out, she says. Those who can’t advocate for themselves. This is why they focus on projects that help the whole community thrive. ‘That way no-one gets left behind,” Ruth says, quietly but emphatically.

Ruth barely gave her coffee cup a glance as she talked animatedly about the village’s history. When Kenya was under colonial rule, the British didn’t see any economic advantage to educating girls, she explains, but the local missionaries believed in the value of educating women. Their school taught many Maragoli women, including some of Petra’s female relatives.

Maternal Health

Hands-On Development Initiatives International is built on a similar ethos of equality and empowerment. After recognizing the brutal lack of care for women during pregnancy and childbirth, HODI is facilitating the construction of a maternity hospital. The best estimates show 14,700 Kenyan women and girls die from pregnancy-related complications every year, and the lack of maternal healthcare weighed heavily on this mother.

“Many of these women were giving birth with no help,” Ruth says. “They were dying from minor problems. No woman today should have to go through that.”

HODI is about holistic community collaboration, so Ruth and her family prefer to “stay in the shadows” as much as possible. They bring supplies every visit, but they give them to trusted community leaders who give them to people who need them most  “We keep track of it all,” she says, “But we don’t ever want it to be ‘O, the Canadians are here.’ There’s a temptation toward heroism in situations like these, but that’s not what it’s about.”

For years, Ruth has ushered students out of the classroom and into radically different parts of the planet, to meet and learn from the people there. Today, several students and alumni intern and volunteer with her non-profit, taking part in this vital work of reconciliation. Ruth’s excitement and enthusiasm for building bridges between different cultures has led to deeply meaningful work.

I don’t mind telling you, it’s pretty contagious.

Find out more about HODI at www.hodiinternational.com

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About Christi:
Christi has a Communications degree from Trinity Western University. She loves stories and feels privileged to have heard some truly incredible ones while interning at Childcare Canada. Christi hopes to figure out how she can best use her gifts to impact the world around her. Her greatest passions are writing and travel. She’s just come back from recent travels in Australia.

Photo credits: Christi, by Cecilia Flaming

RELATE with Helen: Pathways of Friendship

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” Anais Nin

By Helen Burns | Twitter: @helenburns

Last night, John and I returned home from a trip to Germany where we ministered at a relationship conference and spoke in several awesome churches in the very quaint and beautiful city of Detmold.

The time I spent there was so extraordinarily special to me because I was able to share it with my husband, John. It fed my soul in ways that perhaps only a girl like me, who grew up Mennonite, could truly appreciate.

The Language of Hearts

Something awakens and stirs me so deeply when I can connect with my Mennonite Russian/German roots in such a palpable way. We may live across oceans, but the language of our hearts and heritage connects us deeply.

I’ll never forget my initial introduction to this small, but remarkable group of people…

I had just finished teaching my session at Charlotte Scanlon-Gambill’s women’s conference in Bradford, England, when a group of seven rather tender and teary-eyed women approached me and said,

“I think we are your people.”

At first those words seemed strange to be hearing in England, but very soon it all made sense. Their ears had tuned in to certain words and customs that I had brought up during my teaching—things that would be unique to someone raised in a Mennonite church and home. We shared a common history, a common faith, a common language, common customs within our community, as well as common food.

Sharing Community

It was a ‘moment’ I’ll never forget. Time stopped as we shared our stories and our journeys to “here and now”. Suddenly I was lost in a world of beautiful familiarity, speaking German and found myself longing for a delicious feast of my favourite dishes that my Oma, Mom and aunties would make like Borscht, Perishky, Kotletten or a yummy helping of Rollkuchen, served with a juicy slice of watermelon. My mouth is watering as I write.

Following our encounter in England, we continued to stay in touch with each other. I became especially connected to my friend Vera. We were so very aware that our relationship was divinely orchestrated by God for a greater purpose than we could understand at the moment.

This recent trip was my third visit to Detmold and this stunning community of friends that God so graciously introduced into my world. The opportunity to minister there astounds me and blesses me beyond what I could express in words. It simply makes my heart and soul sing ridiculously loud!

Building Family

I am continuously in awe of how lavishly and thoughtfully God knits His big, magnificent family together. He is the divine connector-of-the-dots, and not one detail ever escapes His notice.

Over 25 years ago, God asked John to lay down his dental practice to plant a church. I knew it was a clear directive from the Spirit of God and I willingly released the security of the financial stability that dentistry afforded us as a family. I admit however that I struggled laying down a deep desire to travel and explore the world. I couldn’t imagine there would ever be enough money in our budget to do that ever again.

I love how God puts His desires in our hearts and then uses them as a cord of connection to His heart. He is an extravagant Father who loves to lavish His children.

I have traveled to more countries than I would have ever imagined in my wildest dreams and it has been with the greatest purpose imaginable—to grow and build the family of God. It has all happened so beautifully and organically. I have been learning to leave the details to God. He knows what He is doing.

It was just a few short years ago that I found myself in Bradford, England, where I met so many people with whom my heart will forever be connected, and in the midst of this glorious opportunity walked seven more friends—friends of my history and friends of my destiny.

These gorgeous Mennonite sisters were so hungry for God that they dared to step out into an unfamiliar place, get on an airplane and head to a conference that they had seen advertised on Christian Television. It was there that our lives collided and we have never been the same since.

God is always up to something! He has created pathways for us to walk on that will supernaturally align our destiny with others. Much fruit has come from that one encounter—there are always multitudes on the other side of our obedience to God.

My heart so resonates with these words from Romans 8:12-16…

“So don’t you see that we don’t owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There’s nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God’s Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!

This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what’s coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! (Message)

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

  • How has God aligned your life and purpose with others’?
  • Which friendships in your life have come as a result of obedience to God?

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About Helen:



Helen Burns and her husband, John, speak around the world on the topic of relationships. They host the popular TV show “Relate with John and Helen.”

Re-post: TGIF: Why is Beyonce Giving Me Mixed Signals?

On skytrain journalism, sanitary pads and the real face of dignity.


by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
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I don’t typically brood over words like “dignity” while chomping on a piece of toast on a Thursday morning. I’m usually preoccupied with trying to make decisions like, “Can I get away with not washing my hair today?” or “How long can I sit on Facebook before I’m officially late for work?”

This week, however, was different. I came face-to-face with the stark reality that dignity is:
- A vague concept.
- A scarce commodity.

Allow me to illustrate my point by going over my week.

Monday: I spot this guy on the Skytrain. The repressed journalist in me just HAD to take a picture of his hoodie.

It’s a little hard to read in the picture because I was trying to be discreet. His hoodie says, “Chicks should come in six packs.” The infamous mudflap girl imprinted on each can. Pun intended.

The feminist in me was appalled. For the record: I’m not anti-men. I’m just pro-women.

Tuesday: I read this really great article: “MILFs and Happy Endings” (You should read it too.)

“Was it just me, or was I being bullied, along with everyone else, into having to accept porn’s invasion into everyday life with its coarseness as the new norm?”- Lili Bee

Wednesday: I sat across from this guy…

“My parts are the best,” his T-shirt reads. TMI … but I’ll take your word for it kind sir. On closer inspection, it’s mudflap girl again! Only this time she’s on her knees. I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I’m guessing she’s not changing the tires.

How does a woman living in today’s world define “dignity” when the media tells us we are most appreciated on our knees, half-dressed, preferably in front of an automobile.

Don’t believe me? Take Beyonce’s music video “Run the World” for example. Ms. Knowles is singing about female empowerment on all fours in front of a car. Look at the similarities between the T-shirt and the video.

Car? Check. Mudflap girl? Check. Girl power? I don’t think so. Talk about sending mixed signals.

I really don’t want this to sound Anti-Beyonce because I love the girl. She can sing, dance and is a successful business woman. What’s not to love? It just bothers me that the music video for a song about girl power is communicating a conflicting message.

Why aren’t there more T-shirts emblazoned with the faces of Rosa Parks, Madeleine Albright and Margaret Atwood? I’d wear that!

Thursday: As you can imagine I was feeling pretty deflated by this point. The overly sexualized imagery and language surrounding my gender was depressing.

In an effort to cheer myself up I was browsing through the Living Hope website on my lunch break. Looking through the photos on the website, I saw a true picture of dignity. I saw women with deep-rooted self-worth, effortless grace, resourceful spirit, fervent courage and untainted joy.

This is the kind of “girl power” that appeals to me. I’m tired of the in-your-face, skin-baring, swearing-like-a-sailor, overly sexual, middle-finger showing, aggressive, violent, catty, condescending “girl power” the media advertises. It’s a cop-out. It’s counterfeit.

True girl power is someone who forgives the unforgivable, loves the unlovable and dares to show up for life even at the risk of getting hurt in the process.

“What should move us to action is human dignity: the inalienable dignity of the oppressed, but also the dignity of each of us. We lose dignity if we tolerate the intolerable.”Dominique De Menil

The Intolerable: Abducted, gang-raped, infected with AIDS, left for dead, mutilated, forgotten, beaten, disfigured, shunned from society and sold as sex slaves.

“Restoring dignity” is the mandate of the

2. Making Honey

3. I was saving the best for last, a brilliant initiative called “MAKAPADS.”

According to UNICEF, approximately 1 in 10 African girls will skip school during menstruation because they fear being ridiculed or stigmatized. Rural schools don’t usually have proper toilet facilities or water and girls can’t afford sanitary pads. Often times they have to resort to unsanitary alternatives like leaves or cloth. This is the crucial juncture where many girls drop out of school.

The Living Hope ladies in Gulu have been part of an initiative that provides affordable sanitary pads, called Makapads made mainly of papyrus reeds and almost entirely of local materials. It is exciting because, not only is this a skills development opportunity, but the ladies also get to be a part of an initiative that is giving a new generation of girls the opportunity to remain in school.

The finished product is pretty impressive if you ask me!

“Our ladies are not a drama of victimization; they are a story of empowerment that transforms formerly abducted little girls into successful businesswomen.”- Marilyn Skinner, Founder of Watoto – Living Hope

Transforming abducted girls into successful business women?!

Hello? I love that.

“All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence.”
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

TGIF: Are You There, World? It’s Me, Tina. Without Makeup.

On Angelina Jolie’s leg, posing for Facebook pictures and exposing the “real me.”

by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
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It’s been an AWESOME week to be a woman.

Apart from the insane media coverage of Angelina Jolie’s leg at the Oscars (epic low for humanity), I have enjoyed watching women stand up and stick it to The Man.

I want to take a quick minute to say:

Source: baubauhaus.com via Tina on Pinterest

Dear Angelina,

Haters gonna hate.

I’m so sorry about the spoofs, Twitter account, “Legbombing” Pinterest page, memes and TV shows making fun of your leg.

I say this sincerely and un-ironically: it must suck to wake up every morning and hear that your leg is on the cover of yet another newspaper, when women are being raped in Congo.

Ignore these bozos. Let one of them win an Academy Award, two Screen Actors Guild Awards, three Golden Globe Awards and be named Hollywood’s highest-paid actress by Forbes; then they can talk.

Love you girl,
Teen
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Coming back to task at hand …

Women were such rockstars this week. They are:

  1. Speaking up.
    “Dear Oscar: Women Have Stories, Too
  2. Gathering allies.
    “Tumblr Takes Stand Against Eating Disorder Blogs”
  3. Standing up for each other.
    “Why We Should Stop Snarking On Angelina Jolie’s Thinness”
  4. Embracing their imperfections.
    “Want to be happy? Stop trying to be perfect
  5. Telling the truth.
    “My Journey with Weight Control.”

The last link is a revealing ballsy piece, written by our very own SheLoves writer, Claire De Boer.

Here’s an excerpt from her article that made me choke on my afternoon apple:

“I can’t count the number of times I have sat around a table with girlfriends, a delicious selection of mouthwatering finger foods under our noses, and listened as most of us have justified our decision to eat or not eat the food.

I went for a run today.
I didn’t eat dinner, so I can indulge.
I’ve been good all week, so I deserve a night off.
I shouldn’t … I really need to lose a few pounds.

Whatever the response, so many of us are sitting around that table justifying our decision to eat or not eat. I have never heard the same conversation around a table of men.”

Mid February (coincidentally on my birthday), another SheLoves writer, powerhouse Sarah Bessey wrote, “For Shame or Freedom?” “Shame is insidious, ” she says, “because it can sound reasonable to our own ears, but it always ends in the same place: a prison.”

She goes on to say that as women:

“…we weave a banner of love as nouns and verbs to guard and protect,
to trail-blaze, for our mothers, our daughters:
you are beautiful, you have worth, you are valuable – NOW.
I love you, I see you, I hear you, my sister.

Facebook Me vs. Real Me

Sarah’s words, “I see you,” jumped out at me. I thought about how rarely, I let people see the real me. I hate being seen. I hate been photographed. Maybe I’m extra critical because I’m a photographer. If it’s not the right angle, the right light and the right posture, I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

This fear is magnified with the magic of Facebook. Anyone can upload and tag a nasty picture of me with a double-chin, back-fat, eyes closed and mouth wide open. Sure, I could “untag” myself from the picture, but I’ll always know that it’s still floating out there on the scary Internet.

Like most mortals, I’m guilty of putting up a cute but not too pose-y picture of myself as a profile picture, like so:

Please note, the flattering soft light coming from my window making me look like a cast member of “Touched by an Angel.” Truth be told, I often worry that people who I “meet” on the internet, will be disappointed when they meet me in person. Alas, I can’t bottle that gorgeous light to follow me around!

I read an article this week titled, “Almost Half Of Women Don’t Like Their Faces Unless They’re Spackled With Makeup.” Dude … that just makes me sad. Spackled?!

And hey, if this is what Supermodel Kate Moss looks like without makeup and Photoshop, then why do I give myself such a hard time?

If more of us women stopped hiding behind our staged “Perfect Profile Picture,” we could start to reverse the cycle of self-hate and fear, and run wildly into the arms of love and freedom.

Some of you might remember that my One Word for 2012 is “enough.” I’m learning that I am: strong enough, smart enough, brave enough, loved enough …[squirm]even beautiful enough. Just as I am.

“We can’t look to the world to restore our worth; we’re here to restore our worth to the world. The world outside us can reflect our glory, but it cannot create it. It cannot crown us. Only God can crown us, and he already has.” — Marianne Williamson

In a moment of pure insanity I thought, if my beautiful friend Claire can be honest about how many times she has weighed herself, I can be honest about what I look like without makeup.

So this is the real me …
Glasses
Pimple on my cheek
Angry Vein on my forehead
Bags under my eyes
Ratty pajamas
No makeup.
No Photoshop.
No flattering angle.

BOOM.

Pssst … if you click on the picture, it gets even larger.

And this is (round-faced) me, after I realized that this idea was totally crazy and I was going to regret it in the morning!

Guess what? It’s morning. And, I don’t regret it!

“A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower. You didn’t have to struggle to make your face different than anyone else’s on earth. It just is. You are unique because you were created that way.” — Marianne Williamson

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OH-OH-OH, I have a crazy idea!!!

Dear ones, I (lovingly) dare you to take a picture of yourself without makeup and:

a. Post it on our SheLoves Facebook page.
b. Share it on Twitter. You can copy/paste this tweet:
“Hey World! It’s Me, _____[insert name]. Without Makeup. #iamenough [insert picture]
c. Or “Pin it” on Pinterest. #iamenough

Gleep! I’m so excited. I would seriously love to see your beautiful faces, just as you are.

Together we can define a new standard for beauty; one that celebrates our curves, stretchmarks, scary veins, wrinkles and laugh lines.

Love you more than Ginger Grapefruit Curd,
xoxo,
Teen

To read more TGIFs from Tina: Click here.

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My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.

Words are my chocolate. Music, my caramel. Photography, my bread. Girlfriends, my butter.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice.

I celebrate food, ask for help, interrupt conversations, laugh and cry hard, acknowledge the elephant in most rooms, fight for the underdog and believe in the power of storytelling.

My word for the year is “leap.” If something scares me, I do it.

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

Seeking the Face of Justice: Lessons from Two Former Child Soldiers

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

When we see how much injustice there is in the world, sometimes we forget that a simple act of reaching out and caring can make all the difference.

I can’t say I fully understand justice. Living in Uganda, however, as I hear firsthand the stories of people who have experienced great injustice–people who are now healing–I’m often reminded of what achieving justice looks like. I also learn that in seeking justice I don’t need to become overwhelmed.

God reminds me there’s nothing silent or static about justice. Wherever I search for the word “justice” in the Bible, I come across action. Justice is life-giving, loud and active. He also provides me with many examples on how to seek justice: speak out, reach out and give.

Seeking Justice

I learn that to seek is the desire or attempt to achieve something. I may have the desire, but if I don’t take the leap from desire to action, I’ll never “achieve” justice. Justice isn’t just the feeling in my heart. It’s the ways in which I will choose to respond to that feeling.

I’m reminded that seeking justice is a choice I continually have to make, because seeking justice, though it’s not impossible, isn’t easy. It can be uncomfortable.

It’s not easy

-Personally, I’m not very good at speaking out. I’m shy.
-Being generous is hard when I feel like I don’t have the finances.
-Reaching out requires meeting people and investing my time.

I have to be honest, sometimes I can get lazy, overwhelmed and scared. I can fail to take the leap from desire to action because it means I have to get out of my comfort zone. Therefore, I have to continue to choose to keep my heart and eyes open so I don’t fail to see injustice and take the opportunities to respond.

Lessons from Filder and Susan

Filder and Susan belong to a generation of children who were abducted by the LRA in northern Uganda and forced to live under the captivity of rebel soldiers. Many of them were forced to witness and commit unimaginable atrocities. They were robbed of their childhood and innocence. Boys were forced to become child soldiers and girls were often given away as trophy wives to rebel commanders.

Like many other abducted children, when Filder and Susan returned from captivity, their community rejected them completely. Now they are part of an initiative run by Watoto that trains and disciples this stolen generation and helps them reintegrate into their communities. They have been given the opportunity to regain control of their lives because somebody acted.

We sat at their new home on Suubi Hill, and when I asked them what was the most important thing I as an individual could do to seek justice, their answers were surprisingly simple. They said that if I care, I will stop and listen to those who are hurting around me. To Susan and Filder, former child soldiers, realizing justice begins with an interaction.

“Just talking with someone who has been through something very painful can help him or her,” Susan said. “Don’t pass and go, find out how they are doing. Talk to them, take your time to sit with them.”

Filder added: “Encourage and be faithful to one another, help them, build them up.”

I know justice is not one-dimensional. Choosing to stop, care and listen might not solve all of the world’s problems. But if it reminds one person of her worth–if one person rises up from her circumstances and starts to believe in herself again–then that simple action might just be the beginning of someone’s experience of real justice. It’s easy to think that our simple, individual acts of goodness, kindness, or love are insignificant when we see how much injustice there is in the world, but it’s exactly those simple, individual acts that, when added together, can begin to make real positive difference.

I notice that difference when I see Filder and Susan. These girls have experienced war, loss and rejection, but when you meet them, you see love, joy and a real sense of appreciation shining through them. They are healing, smiling and dreaming. They want to shine that light and share that face of justice with other women in their community. And that’s the other thing I’ve learnt about this face of justice: it doesn’t stop at that one person. It sets off a ripple.

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What are YOUR thoughts?

  • What speaks to you in this post?
  • When and where do you see the face of justice?
  • How would you like to grow in this area?

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About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

Threads of a Sister’s Story: Building Bridges of Hope

“I am inspired by women like Nikole, who recognize they are called to walk alongside others in the mutual goal of seeking justice in the world, not as a do-gooder, or a savior, but as a sister in Christ.”

By Enuma Okoro | Twitter: @TweetEnuma
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I was raised in four countries on three continents.

I am a cradle Catholic whose first memory of God is laced with multi-ethnic faces and visions of a holy Mary. I come from a family where women’s voices are loudly heard at home and in vocations around the globe. No matter how often the world and even the church may try to convince me otherwise, I cannot separate my understanding of God from my recognition of the strength and beauty of women.

It’s amazing really, the way one woman randomly encountering another woman can tell a small snippet of her story and lay a thread down, soft and silent, one more weave of rope for that hanging bridge of hope we all dangle on.

I met Nikole Lim at a speakers gathering last year. We were signed up to share a room at the conference center. Nikole is a young striking Chinese-American woman with a playful and edgy sense of style. I was not surprised to discover Nikole was a photographer and a humanitarian documentary filmmaker. As the days went on, I wasn’t even surprised to discover that she had started Freely in Hope, her own 501(c) faith-based nonprofit committed to addressing issues of poverty, sexual abuse and educational injustice for women in Kenya.

But I was surprised to find out she was only 23 years old.

And I was surprised to find out how open Nikole was to shifting her life steps in order to dance to the rhythm of God’s heartbeat, the rhythm she heard while listening to some snippet of another woman’s story.

Through a mutual friend, Nikole was introduced to Eunice, and learned about this particular Kenyan woman’s strength and resolution to overcome the violence of rape and poverty.  Humbled by Eunice’s story Nikole felt her own life forever altered and said yes to a daunting but convicting call to build a bridge between her world in California and Eunice’s world in Nairobi.

Through Eunice’s story, I was liberated from my own selfishness,” says Nikole. “As God was challenging my heart, I felt called to start an organization to provide spiritual, educational and economic empowerment for girls worldwide. I thought that maybe, God was calling me to be a part of something greater—a part of stories that could change not only my life, but the lives of so many other women who are vulnerable to sexual abuse.”

I am inspired by women like Eunice, who in the face of horror, deep pain and mounting obstacles can courageously and gracefully hold onto the seed of knowledge that she, too, is a child of God with power and purpose.

Eunice believed in herself and in God before meeting Nikole.

I am inspired by women like Nikole, who recognize they are called to walk alongside others in the mutual goal of seeking justice in the world, not as a do-gooder, or a savior, but as a sister in Christ.

“I’ve been a witness to countless images that portray the “third world” as a place of despair,” says Nikole. “For too long, images have been used to capitalize on individuals, families and cultures. Worth has been shattered and dignity broken. My goal as a humanitarian photographer and filmmaker is to not exploit, but to leverage stories that empower, restore and transform.”

I am inspired by women who take time to listen to the still small voice of God, to discern how God would use their own unique hands and heart to foster healing in a broken world.

There are so many contexts and cultures that teach women to be passive and quiet recipients of injustice and varied forms of violence. And there are so many untold stories of women like Nikole and Eunice who do not shy away from challenge and conviction, because they believe that central to their life’s meaning and faith is the call to issue in God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. Wherever Jesus went about preaching the kingdom of God and calling onlookers to reconcile themselves to God’s love, he did so hand in hand with changing people’s circumstances to reflect the type of world God envisions for all. The kingdom of God is made manifest wherever creation moves one step closer to physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental healing.

“Our vision is for women worldwide to experience God’s transformative love by living freely in hope.” -Nikole Lim , Founder of  Freely in Hope.

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My dear SheLoves sisters, I’d love to hear:

  • What soft threads of another’s sister’s story have been woven into your own story of hope and purpose?
  • Is there a friend, a sister’s story, that comes to mind that has particularly shaped how you live your life now?
  • Any other thoughts or comments?

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About Enuma

Enuma was born in the United States and raised in Nigeria, Ivory Coast and England. She holds a Master of Divinity degree from Duke University Divinity School where she served as Director for the Center for Theological Writing. She is an author, speaker, spiritual director and continues to lead workshops and retreats on varied topics engaging the literary and visual arts, and spiritual disciplines.

Her spiritual memoir, Reluctant Pilgrim: A Moody Somewhat Self-Indulgent Introvert’s Search for Spiritual Community  (Fresh Air Books, 2010) was a winning finalist in the 2010 USA Best Books Award and received the 2011 National Indie Excellent Book Awards Winning Finalist in “Spirituality and African-American Non-Fiction.” She is co-author with Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove of Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals

Enuma’s new forthcoming book, “Silence,” will be released in Summer/Fall 2012

She also writes an online column at Patheos called “Cornering God” about women’s ways of knowing and engaging the holy. You can find her online at  www.enumaokoro.com

Photo credit: All images of Eunice, by Nikole Lim

TGIF: ‘Cause I Gotta Have Faith-a-Faith-a-Faith …

On small faith, mind-bending miracles, weepy bear hugs and an epic summer.


by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
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“How much have you raised so far?*” he said resting his coffee cup on my cubicle wall and peering down on me.

[*Context: On June 24th 2011, I announced a Big Hairy Audacious Goal (BHAG): 50 women in Vancouver + Half-Marathon = Raising $50,000 for Our Sisters in Uganda. Read more.]

Glasses, sweater vest, baby blue shirt tucked into beige pants … What’s-his-name-What’s-his-name-What’s-his-name, I thought frantically. Bryan … Kevin … Jared? My desperate attempt at recollecting his name was interrupted by the loud slurp of coffee. What’s-his-name swallowed and said, “You know, your half-marathon goal of raising $50,000?”

Ugh.

Luckily, I’d learned a thing or two from years of watching the question round of the Miss Universe pageant. So I repeated his question back to him as slowly as humanly possible, stalling for time. “How … far … away … am … I … from … the … half-marathon … goal?” deliberately leaving out the little detail of $50,000.

“Yeah, how far along are you in relation to the $50,000 goal,” he responded.

What’s-his-name was relentless.

I took a deep breath and with my best (fake) calm voice I said, “You know, it’s really exciting! A lot of girls have signed up for the run. Most of them are not runners, so they want to train a little bit before they ask friends and family for money. At the moment we are at $840.”

His eyes widened, “But it’s the second week of August already! You have to make over $49,000 in a month and a half!”

I smiled, “I know! It will somehow come together. I have faith.

Here’s the thing, I lied.
I didn’t have faith.
Well, I had faith.
I had small faith.

What is small faith you ask?

Small faith is …

- When you’re a “rah-rah” cheerleader on the outside, but secretly want to curl up in a fetal position and cry.
- When you quote Martin Luther King on your Facebook status and then take three nervous OCD showers to calm down.
- When you dream about raising $50,000 for your sisters in Uganda, but start convincing yourself that finishing the race without injuries would be a victory. It’s the thought that counts, right?

Guilty as charged.
I had small faith.

Real life doesn’t end with “happily ever after.” So, I typically dream safe dreams. “I hope there is parking close to the entrance of the mall.” Or: “I hope this new shampoo helps with my dandruff.” You know? That sorta thing. Dreams that don’t have the potential to embarrass me. Safe and realistic dreams that required small faith.

Unfortunately in the case of the half-marathon, I had opened my big fat mouth and put my BHAG out there, and now the whole world was going to know that I was a big fat failure/lunatic/loser.

Confession: When we made a You Tube video for creating awareness about the half-marathon, I asked my friend Dave who was editing the piece to remove the section where I talk about the $50,000 goal. Gulp. I know. We were days away from the run and nowhere near our goal, so I had started preparing my heart for a smaller dream.

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“Not failure, but low aim, is a crime.” - James Russell Lowell

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Earlier this week I was thumbing through Charles Swindoll’s book “Can One Person Make a Difference?” In the last chapter entitled “This is no time for wimps,” Swindoll talks about how God always gave big instructions.

He told Noah to “Build an ark.”
He told Joseph, “Return good for evil. Forgive your brothers”.
He told Moses, “Lead my people out of Egypt.”
He told David, “Kill the giant.”
He told Peter, “Feed my sheep.”

Woah.

God never aims low.

So yes, $50,000 was an obscenely high number, but it was what I felt God wanted us to work towards.

You know the guy who peered over my cubicle? Yeah, he checked in every two weeks. He asked the same question, “So how away are you from your $50,000 goal?” After every conversation, I felt my heart sink and I set my sights lower. I said things like, “If we just make about $___, it would be okay. It would be decent. At least, we created awareness, right?”

I have to admit, I harboured some not-so-nice-thoughts …

 Money Money Money 

Over the next couple of weeks, this is what our fundraising progress looked like:

August 23rd – $4,460

God, $10,000 would be a respectable number.

September 6th – $6,248

God, seriously, if we could just get to $10,000, I won’t ask for anything else this year.  

September 21st $11,516

Haha. Okay God. You’re amazing. Maybe, $15,000?

September 22nd $14,816

Eek!!! God, would it be crazy to aim for $20,000? P.S. $25,000 would be epic/mega/amazing/miraculous.

September 25th Race Day!

You are my rock, God. With you by my side, I can do anything.

**____After the Half-Marathon____**

October 5th $27,817

GOD?!! WOW! WOW! WOW! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!

November 17th $43,607

… * tears * … I’m a fool for ever doubting you, Father. I’m sorry I had small faith. 

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A Letter to my Girls …

Dear half-marathon girls + Josh,

WE DID IT!!! We finished strong. We wrote a beautiful story together. We witnessed a miracle. We helped. Even though there is so much more work to be done, we did something. We didn’t just sigh and turn the other way, we put our words into action!

Thank you for leaping with me. I couldn’t have done it without each and everyone of you. Thank you for the mystic bond of sisterhood. I will always cherish the laughter, tears, prayers and hugs we shared on this journey. I will never forget that familiarization run with Dan: running in the dark, sharing Gatorade, peeing in bushes, squealing in laughter and disarming crazy car alarms. What a night. Thank you for reminding me what we were fighting for when I was overwhelmed. Thank you for grace in moments of (administrative) chaos. Thank you for your tender, juicy, beautiful, thumping-aching-bursting hearts. Thank you for carrying me when I had small faith.

My sweet and strong sisters, this is only the beginning …

I love you all.

Rib-crushing, weepy bear hugs,
Teen
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  If you haven’t donated to our cause yet and would still like to give, we are accepting donations until November 30th.
- Donate: HERE
– How it all got started? Read the story: HERE
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Here are  5 things that made me smile this week:

 Poetry Jam + Marcel “The Shell with Shoes On” + Murmurations + Seasame Street + Kina Granis = TGIF

1. Joshua Bennett’s spoken word tribute to his sister triggers a sharp pain in my chest. Powerful + Beautiful + Tender.

2. I found this little gem while randomly surfing on Vimeo. Meet Marcel “The shell with shoes on.” Jenny Slate is the brilliant (untreated and unenhanced) voice behind the protagonist Marcel. Jenny Slate, you are adorbs.

MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON from Dean Fleischer-Camp on Vimeo.

3. So, you know my long standing fear of birds? This video is so beautiful-breathtaking-awe-inspiring, I may have to reconsider my position on birds. Two girls in a canoe stumble upon one of nature’s greatest phenomenons; a murmuration of starlings. I’ve watched the video at least 10 times and I still get chills. Prepare to be enchanted. (P.S. If I had to pick my favourite out of this week’s list of 5 things, this would be it.)

Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.

4. My friend Brandi-Lee (or B.Diddy‎ as I like to call her) was watching Sesame Street with her son, Finn, when she heard this catchy tune. “She’s gonna change the world, she’s gonna make the world a better place!” Yeah she is! I don’t know why but I love the massive pearl earrings on the puppet. I keep imagining someone looking at the puppet and saying, “There is something missing here. Ah yes, pearl earrings!” Haha. Yes, I’m easily amused.

5. I’ve been following Youtube star Kina Granis  for years now. She was on The Ellen show this week after the release of her new music video “In your arms”. 22 months, 1,357 hours, 30 people, 2 ladders, 1 still camera and 288,000 jelly beans. Dedication or insanity? You decide.

Watch the making of the video:

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So, dear friends…

1. Have you ever experienced a miracle in spite of having small faith? I would love to hear about it!

2. What keeps you from dreaming big? Failure, past disappointments, responsibilities, etc.?

Love you more than Chocolate Chip Toffee Bars, (<- Recipe)

xoxo,
Teen

To read more TGIFs from Tina: Click here.

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My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.

Words are my chocolate. Music, my caramel. Photography, my bread. Girlfriends, my butter.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice.

I celebrate food, ask for help, interrupt conversations, laugh and cry hard, acknowledge the elephant in most rooms, fight for the underdog and believe in the power of storytelling.

My word for the year is “leap.” If something scares me, I do it.

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

ShePonders: Another Anointing

“Can we messiah one another–propelling each other into the larger salvation story of which we all have a part to play?”

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

“You have to quit your job.” All the others around the room that morning nodded their heads in agreement. A sober-minded brunette reached for pen and paper: “We can help you write the resignation letter now.” Among this group of trusted friends gathered to help me discern my current situation, it was all but settled–it was time to embrace Africa and let go of lesser things.

“I will cover the cost of your first year,” one said. Such a bold investment brought immediate gravity to the sunlit room that morning … and then I felt another take my hand and whisper, “I am coming with you.”  Within moments there were hands laid on us and prayers ascending; the room awash with tears and blessing. This was a holy moment that pushed me forward into my deeper purpose–and I needed my sisters more than I realized.

The weekend I was messiahed.

* * *

For many months she had been following the Rabbi. She had heard him tell many of his parables–some more than once. She had listened to his teachings on hillsides in Galilee and in homes like Martha’s. She had witnessed healings and walked so close behind him that dust would sometimes cover her garments. She had eyes that saw and ears that heard … and she knew where he was headed because he said so on more than one occasion and in more than one way.

So she saved coins here and there. She even found one in a corner–she had thought it long since lost! But not too long ago she took her small purse and purchased some ointment of nard. It was a small alabaster jar–all she could afford–but it was of the best quality. She had it by her bed where she could smell the fragrance like night-blooming jasmine.

There was a dinner party at Simon’s house in Bethany, a familiar occasion for the Rabbi and his disciples. But that night, as she left her house, she reached for the alabaster jar and carried it with her down the street to her neighbor’s home.

By the time she arrived, the Rabbi was already there. He was sitting at the table and laughing with Simon (once a leper) and some other friends. Other disciples were mingling about the room in spirited conversation while the house staff brought platters of food and began pouring the wine.

Now. Now was the time. She took a deep breath and felt the weight of the jar in her tiny hand. She walked toward him. She broke open the top of the jar and began to pour the ointment over his coarse hair … dark hair that reminded her of her own brother. But, unlike her brother, the Rabbi was destined for Jerusalem–for death and yet for victory, too. In her bones she knew him to be Messiah, though she hardly could conceive of what that really meant. She poured slowly … pondering these many things.

She was thinking of this when jolted by Peter’s sharp elbow and the angry words of Judas. The room was filled with noise. With shouting. With accusation. She felt confused … didn’t they all know what she was doing? Like Samuel and Elijah she was merely recognizing the Rabbi’s true calling.  She was affirming his destiny.

But they did not have eyes to see or ears to hear.

But the Rabbi knew. He felt the cool ointment dripping down his scalp and down his neck–and knew the fragrance immediately. She was preparing him. She was empowering him for what lay ahead. She was making visible his salvific purpose: a martyred messiah.

He pushed back Peter and the others pressing toward her; he chided Judas with one sharp look. Then he spoke: “She has anointed me.”

The woman sighed in deep relief as she realized the Rabbi had received her gift.

Like the prophets of old, the woman anointed Jesus and proclaimed his true identity. It was the woman who stood in the long prophetic tradition–not John the Baptist, who baptized with water; not Peter who attempted to announce Messiah but then misunderstood his agenda entirely. It was this woman who was the perceptive prophet. She messiahed Jesus.

She possessed the insight cultivated over months of patient watching, listening and pondering. She invested in the ointment of nard and made an intentional decision to take it with her on that cool night. She was inspired by the Spirit to anoint and therefore participate in the work of Jesus, giving momentum to his salvation agenda. One scholar notes that she empowered him, the disciple empowering the Rabbi. How stunning a reversal!

* * *

I have grown up with another concept of anointing, one that is more spontaneous and charismatic.  For many years I carried a green glass bottle of scented oil in my purse in case a moment arose where anointing was called for. Not too long ago I anointed the feet of some African leaders on Ugandan soil with olive oil.

It is good to bless one another with rich symbols. I recommend it.

But this is a story of another anointing. This woman, most likely a disciple of Jesus, observed him and was attentive to the meaning of his life. She knew there was a deeper purpose afoot. And she prepared for a prophetic moment when she would affirm and announce it. She would, unbeknownst to her, push him into passion week with her anointing. She pushed him in much the same ways my friends propelled me that sun-drenched morning. They messiahed me into my part in God’s salvation story of transformation in Africa.

This anointing involves more than scented oil in shapely vessels.

This anointing involves:

attentive observation,

intentional action and

bold participation

in the divine purpose of another.

This anointing pushes others toward their true call. We are invited to anoint each other toward the things that matter–for our sake, for their sake and for the sake of the world in need of transformation.

Can we messiah one another–propelling each other into the larger salvation story of which we all have a part to play?

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My dear SheLoves sisters and friends, I would love to hear your thoughts and comments:

  • Have you ever been messiahed?
  • Who has seen you in and participated in the divine purpose of your life?
  • Other thoughts?

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<<<Another Anointing>>>

Click on the link above for an audio version of Kelley’s ShePonders: Another Anointing
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About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

The Lights of Diwali

“This Diwali, I’m celebrating the individual diyas–people who are steadily pushing back the darkness.”

By Stacy Wiebe
India does bright and bling 24/7, but shimmers most during the festive days leading up to Diwali. The “Festival of Lights” is a season of giving and feasting, of savoring the creamiest sweets and shopping … for yet more bling. It culminates with a raucous night of lighting firecrackers that resound like machine gunfire, shrouding the streets in smoke.

Personally, I’m more drawn to the quieter adornments of the holiday—the diyas. They’re small clay lamps shaped like mangoes, filled with oil and arranged around doorways. You see them glowing among the tin-roofed houses in the slums and around the long entrances leading up to the city’s bungalows. Unlike their firecracker cousins, the diyas are silent and fragile. Still, their power is incontrovertible. Wherever they are, darkness is diminished. The diyas’ simplicity and ubiquity witness the fundamental meaning of Diwali: the triumph of good over evil.

While India’s star continues to rise on the global stage and its economy continues to boom, this Diwali, I’m celebrating the individual diyas–people who are steadily pushing back the darkness.

In India, 53% of children have been sexually abused and it’s generally not talked about, lest shame come upon the family. What happens in the dark, stays in the dark.

Earlier this month I met Prema*, a girl the same age as my own daughter. The eight-year-old has a tentative smile framed by short, playful pigtails. For the past couple years she and her sister have been cared for by Aruwe, a small organization working with the homeless and the destitute in Chennai.

Prema’s Story

“I’ll never forget the first time I met her,” my friend told me. “She was holding her sister and I picked up the baby and carried her. Prema came after me and snatched her sister from my arms. I later learned it was because she didn’t want her to be hurt by a man, the way she herself had been.”

Prema had been systematically abused. She was the target of a neighbor who was HIV positive, who held to the superstition that intercourse with a young girl would cure him of his disease.

During my visit to the shelter earlier this month, I watched Prema bounce in and out of the room, gathering notebooks and pencils to study for her exams.

She has tested negative for HIV and has begun to trust some of the male staff and volunteers. Still, word on the street is that her mother wants to try to sell her, because she is so pretty. Innocence and beauty have been twisted into liabilities for this little girl, whose name means “love” in Sanskrit.

Her now preschool-age sister, Chloe May, introduces herself to me as “Beauty Chloe May.” The care and affection she’s received by the staff and volunteers at Aruwe have so shaped her identity that she unabashedly prefixes her name with “Beauty.” She owns that name. And, well, she should.

I’m just a visitor at Aruwe, a spectator to miracles-in-progress. Every day, local staff members feed, tutor and love dozens of children, not to mention provide a home for abandoned widows whose families are unable or unwilling to care for them. Daily demands leave the staff little time for marketing and fundraising. Their work is quiet, steady, diya-like. It’s true religion.

*The girls’ names have been changed for their protection.

About Stacy:

Stacy Wiebe likes biriyani, books and things that grow. She’s lived in Chennai, India for the past three years, writing and speaking with WOW and other non-profits.

Because of a Little Love: The Story of Beatrice and Agnes

Beatrice needed more than facial reconstructive surgery. She needed Agnes to remind her she is loved.

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

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©Fakeleft. Quote by Mother Teresa.

I am thinking about loneliness this week. Mother Teresa, a woman who witnessed extreme poverty and disease, believed that being unloved, rejected and lonely is a form of poverty.

She said: “We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love.

A Little Love

When James and I heard of the opportunity to film a girl who had just undergone reconstructive surgery we jumped at the opportunity. It was the last footage we needed to complete the production of a short video for Living Hope that we’ve been working on and we were eager to begin piecing the final story together.

So we set off early one morning with a Living Hope team leader. She informed us that the girl we were filming would be returning to her home in Gulu soon. We were excited for her because we figured she was probably anxious to return to her family.

Meet Beatrice

To protect her identity, I’ll call her Beatrice. Beatrice is about fifteen years old. She had undergone two surgical procedures in a week and was recovering at a Watoto village near Kampala. A cheerful and loving Living Hope graduate named Agnes was caring for her. She had been trained to nurse reconstructive surgery patients after their operation and had spent a week nursing Beatrice. When we met them you could tell they had become increasingly attached to each other. Agnes would hug Beatrice and fix the scarf around her neck. She would wipe Beatrice’s chin when spittle would trickle from her healing lips.

The stitches around her lips made it difficult for Beatrice to speak, so Agnes shared with us the details of Beatrice’ story. Beatrice had not experienced war injuries but she had been born with a cleft lip and palate and this had profoundly damaged her quality of life.

Reassurance

As Agnes spoke, Beatrice stared blankly at the ground. She seemed shy and even a little scared. Agnes pulled her close. She caressed her head and whispered a few words to her in Acholi, their local language. Beatrice smiled and appeared reassured.

After listening to her story, we explained the purpose of the video we were working on. We pulled out the reflectors, set up the tripod, opened some windows and began directing.

As we filmed, the Living Hope team leader and Agnes spoke to Beatrice making her feel at ease. But after a few minutes of shooting, she suddenly began to cry. We immediately stopped. We thought maybe we had approached her insensitively and briefing her had not been enough. Maybe she needed a little encouragement. I immediately asked the team leader to translate for me, but after a few minutes the team leader interrupted me to tell me that we weren’t the reason she was crying.

Phew, I thought at first. But then she explained that Beatrice was crying, because while we were shooting, she was told she would soon be returning home and this was harrowing news to her.

Going Home

Beatrice’s community associated her birth deformity with witchcraft. So when she was born, her mother gave her the Acholi name for “the cursed one.” Her mother abandoned her when she was young and her grandmother who is raising her, mistreats her. Even though she goes to school and has a home to sleep in, Beatrice didn’t grow up experiencing kindness and care.

And yet she seemed like such an innocent child. She had a shy smile and a sweet and gentle demeanor. For the last week Agnes had treated Beatrice like a daughter. She didn’t just nurse her wounds, she nurtured her heart.

Later that day Beatrice was transported to a recuperation center in Gulu and I thought I’d never see her again. But a week later James and I traveled to Gulu and while we were there, we visited the Living Hope recuperation center where women recover from their reconstructive surgeries or are prepared for their upcoming procedures.

Flourishing

As we pulled into the driveway and parked our car, we spotted Beatrice. When she recognized us, she sprinted towards us. And as soon as I was out of the car, she gave me a huge hug, her healing lips quivering as she tried to contain her smile. It was as if her experience with Agnes had unlocked something inside her and this was allowing her to flourish. I like to believe that the care and love she experienced will give her the hope she needs to persevere through difficult times. I can’t be certain what is going to happen to Beatrice, but my brief encounter with her has reminded me that sometimes the simplest, most uncomplicated acts of love and service–the type that Agnes demonstrated towards Beatrice by simply being there for her and treating her with dignity–can bring healing to people in ways that can surprise us.

I know a person can’t subsist solely on love, but love feeds hearts and helps people flourish. Love and acceptance can help a person conquer her fears and reach her potential.

We all experience pain, but there are so many people in this world who are hurting alone. There are people out there who are seldom noticed and are isolated from their community. As I was thinking about Beatrice and many others like her, this documentary, A Way Out, came to mind:

A Way Out – documentary (2010) from Noora Shalaby on Vimeo.

I am reminded of the impact Love has on a person and how we should never take an encouraging word, a squeeze of the hand or an embrace for granted.
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So, beautiful SheLoves friends, what are your thoughts?

  • What speaks to you in this post?
  • Have you experienced or witnessed the impact that a simple act of love can have on a person?

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About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

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