Out of the Ashes Beauty Will Rise

She was one of the first people I saw as we arrived to the site. It was not my first time in Uganda, not by a long shot, but it was my first time at this particular children's home. My first time to see this particular organization. She lifted her eyes from the ground and shyly said hello. And as I looked deep within her eyes and I could see for a fleeting moment that she had lived life beyond her 14 years. She seemed somehow a girl, yet somehow an old soul, something I have seen more than once when a traumatic past is involved. I didn't know her story and I didn't ask. The first time I met her, I did see she had noticeable scars on her hands, perhaps adding to her initial shyness. However as the week went on and I spent time there testing soil, taking water samples and evaluating the site, as one of the few women who was there doing field work she seemed to be shyly curious of who I was. One day I went and sat with her and her friends. I asked them a few non-threatening questions and soon they were huddled around wanting to talk more. Waiting for our driver to come pick us up presented me with the opportunity to talk to her and her friends.  And I saw in her this love deep and wide for the girls she lived with. How, when given the responsibility as head girl of the house she rose to the occasion, she mothered the young ones and encouraged the older ones. She is a great help to her house mother. She inspired me with her quiet strength.  As the week progressed, I got to hear her musical laughter and see her bright smile.  The time I got to spend with her and her friends has never left my heart or my mind.

I never did ask her what her story was, I wanted to celebrate who she is rather than making her uncomfortable by asking her about the pain of her past.  It was only a few months later I was told. This lovely young lady has a story that broke my heart. She used to walk 3 hours one way to go to school, her father is in prision, her mother has HIV and is not in good health. Those scars on her hands, they were blatant, inflicted by her aunt, who one day in anger burned her hands intentionally. She was 13 and shortly after she came to live at the children's home I met her at. She dealt with great pain for some time. But this young lady, she talks about the love she now receives, the opportunity to go to school nearby, and the opportunity she has to sing, because she loves to sing.

This girl, she has inspired me. She has reminded me that out of the ashes beauty will rise. Quite literally. I saw the beauty in her laugh and her smile. She still feels deeply the pain of her past, but she lives in the joy of now. She is a light that radiates out darkness. She reminds me what it means to have quiet strength and why I want the world to be a better place.

Human Rights and My Sheltered Existence

Most of you know that I volunteer as a classroom assistant in an English Class at the local Immigrant Centre.  The few hours I spend each week with people from other corners of the earth open my eyes to see the world in a different way. These students broaden my horizons and I love to hear stories about where they came from and what their dreams are. One night a few weeks ago was no exception. The teacher announced that we would be spending the evening watching short video clips about human rights issues around the world and then discussing them. I was a bit surprised because the usual topics of discussion tend to revolve around subjects that help the students survive life in Canada. How to talk to the doctor, or shop for groceries, or make an appointment. All things that someone new to Canada needs and wants to be able to do, but is a big big struggle if having a good command of English is not within grasp.

So I was surprised when I saw enthusiastic nods around the room as the teacher announced the exercise. Before the exercise even started, one student told the entire class "this is a very important topic."  And I realized that particular student came from a country where human rights might not be viewed as important.  Some might say he comes from a country that has even been known to violate human rights in the past. And in that moment I realized I have led a very sheltered existence. I haven't known what it means to be treated as less than human. I hope I never will.  But some of these people that I smile at and speak with every Tuesday evening have lived in places where life is cheap and expendable. Being alive does not equate with having worth. I don't know what it means to live in a country run under iron rule. But some of these students, they do. I was reminded of this after the Canadian election when one student who grew up in a country that was at the time of his childhood under Soviet Rule found out that our new prime minister was the son of a previous prime minister. He looked at me and in very loud and accented English exlaimed "Zis is because it is ze Mafia."  The thought had never even crossed my mind, but having grown up in a political climate far different than the one I grew up in, it was the most obvious conclusion for him.

And I realized I live in a place where society encourages and promotes the equal treatment of every individual. A few hours and a few video clips one evening, made me realize I should not take this for granted.

As I speak with these students, I realize they are in-between one culture and another. And that is a hard place to be. They have come a long way from their homeland to the land of opportunity, only to realize that in these lands living life is expensive and finding those opportunities are filled with obstacles and sometimes impossibilities they didn't count on. For some, the success they had hoped for and the independence they had imagined never becomes a realization. But in some of them I see determination and perseverance.  They work hard for sometimes many years on end to find mastery of a new language, they beat statistics and find success.  And being there on the sidelines to watch the small steps of their journey is but pure joy. 

Surreal Moments in the middle of Real Life

The past few days have been filled with moments that leave me thinking "I never thought I would see the day when that happened."  The very trip is one of those.  I never thought I would be walking on the same Ugandan ground as my parents.  I never thought they would adapt so well to a culture so very foreign.  Or that their eyes would be opened slowly but surely in the same ways mine have been.  I see their hearts being moved, a slow shifting in ways that are irreversible.  It is neat to see how their first time experience is so different from my seventh. But how their first experience in so many ways mirrors my own and yet is unique to them in many ways as well.  I have always lived with the weight of the world on my shoulders.  And I can't speak for them, but in many ways I think theirs has been a gradual awakening that has been made so very real by meeting in the flesh the people whose names have been part of my stories.  It just can't be put into words how much different the real life experience is from hearing stories through someone else.

Let's be honest.  There have been moments of entertainment.  The night we arrived for example, when my Mom was shrieking about the gecko in their guest room, and the Ugandan hotel employee quietly came over and told my Mom that they were harmless, and then later told me when we were alone that "those people are so funny."Or the time today at church when one of the house Mama's went up to my Mom and thanked her profusely for giving birth to me.   I never thought I would see my Mom eat a grasshopper and then utter the words "That actually tasted pretty good."  There have been so many moments to remember. 

Well that is all.  We have a busy week ahead of us, and as usual I know it is going to be too short. I can't wait to spend more time with all these people who are so very special to me.

I never thought I'd live to see the day when my Mom was posing in pictures so similar to the ones I'm usually found in.

My parents got to meet their sponsored child Joseph today.  A special experience for them.

The family 2 children sang a few songs for us.  So special.

My buddy and side-kick, Little E.  I miss this guy so much when I'm not here.

The Power of Opinion

My Mom likes to tell me I'm the most opinionated person she's ever met.  You can thank the University of Saskatchewan for that. The first time I entered those campus gates as a fresh faced 18 year old I had a lot to learn in terms of life experience. I still do actually, but back then I pretty much just believed whatever anyone told me. I entered those gates thinking I would come out a veterinarian and instead came out an engineer.  I'm still not entirely sure how that happened, but I'm glad it did. And in those 5 years of higher education I learned what it meant to form my own opinion. To question and ponder, gather evidence and facts and decide what I thought about something. I learned how to have healthy dialogue with someone who held an entirely different opinion than I did. It was within those walls that I became the deep thinker I am today.

I think the journey was one of many small steps, but one that sticks out in my mind was a particular assignment I had in a philosophy class I took on ethics and technology. We had to write. Apparently someone didn't inform my professor that engineering students only know how to do math and physics. In any case we were asked to write a paper and defend whether or not we thought it was ethical to mass produce headless humans for the purpose of organ harvesting. . . I remember reading that assignment and thinking what the heck, I don't even know what to think about this.  And as if he read my mind my Professor stood up there at the front and told us that even if we didn't know what to think, we had to pick a side and defend it. Because the whole thing sounded a little over the top to me I decided to defend the stance that it was not ethical to mass produce headless humans. I did mediocre on that paper, probably because I was an engineering student and I couldn't write nearly as well as the English majors in my class, but I also got a comment that I was trying to defend a stance that was nearly impossible to defend since "there is no empirical evidence of the existence of a soul, and in order to prove this practice was unethical, a soul must exist." Now that one little comment could open a can of worms that could get us debating in a whole other direction, but that is not my intent here. My intent is that for one of the first times in my life, I was forced to form an opinion on something I didn't even really want to have an opinion on. We had discussions on many topics in that class from things that were as over the top as headless humans, to the creation of an Ebola vaccine, something that none of us knew would be grabbing headlines worldwide a few years down the road. I remember the haunting moment in that lecture hall when we were discussing the effects of war, and one girl raised her hand and said "I would like to give my thoughts on this because I survived the Rwandan Genocide." In each and every discussion I was pleasantly surprised to see classmates with opinions on complete opposite ends of the spectrum respecting each other and having lively but still kindhearted discussions on something they disagreed on.  Having my eyes opened to such possibilities prepared me well for traveling to different parts of the world and realizing that different is not wrong.

I am thankful I was pushed and prodded into forming my own thoughts and ideas on things. By asking me to form my own opinion, the vast majority of my professors communicated to me that what I thought mattered and was valued. I have seen children in various parts of the world who have been told they don't matter, and the result is children who develop into adults who don't believe they have anything to offer and so never speak their mind or voice their ideas, even if those ideas are really really great. I hope that I can encourage the children I work with both here and abroad that they matter enough to have their own voice. To lead by example that asserting one's opinion with arrogance and attitude alienates, but contributing ideas and opinions with grace and respect collectively launches new discoveries and inventions, opens minds wide to ideas that are new and exciting, and makes our world a better place.

Jaimee's Top 12 Book List

Anyone who knows me well, knows I love to read. I always enjoy browsing through must read book lists on blogs and websites, so I decided it was high time I created my own.  I had a hard time narrowing this down to 12 books, I probably could have picked 100, but in the end these are the 12 that I think most changed and challenged me, inspired me into action, broke my heart and made it sing.

 12. Secret Daughter: By Shilpi Somaya Gowda- Having been to India several times, I felt as though I was part of this story. A riveting story of sacrifice and an honest look into Indian culture, international adoption and family identity. I felt Kavita's pain as she surrendered Asha into the hands of others, in order that she may have life. I read this one in record time.

 11. Little Princes: By Conor Grennan- When I read this book I had no idea that I would one day go to Nepal and meet children very much like those in this book. Even so, I had been to several children's homes in various parts of the world and saw myself in many of Conor's experiences from the deep love he has for the children at the orphanage, to the numerous cultural faux pas he makes, and to the deep satisfaction he finds in his work there and also in the frustration at trying to work within and do good work in a government system that is rife with corruption. Part way through his stay at an orphanage in Nepal, Conor finds out that many of these children are not orphans at all, but have been taken out of their mountain villages by trafficker's who have promised them a better life, later abandoning them in Kathmandu where they were taken in by various children's homes. This amazing book follows the journey of bringing the lost children of Nepal home.

10. The Book of Negroes: By Lawrence Hill- To be honest I never had any intentions of reading this book. It was given to me as a gift by my Grandmother who is also an avid reader. After only a few pages I was in, I was so in. A fictional but historically accurate look at the slave trade that makes history personal and close to home. Highly recommended.

9. Six Months in Sudan: By James Maskalyk- Another book in which I saw myself in many of the words and pages. A young doctor spends six months in Sudan with Medecins Sans Frontieres (Doctor's Without Border's). An honest look into the uncertain business of doing good, the difficulty of re-entry back into one's home country after being in a place that is hard to explain to friends and family. Dr. Maskalyk so eloquently put into words what I so often struggle to. A must read if you work in the development sector, want to, or love someone who does.

 8. The Uncertain Business of Doing Good: Outsiders in Africa. By Larry Krotz- This was one of the first books that opened my eyes to the fact that perhaps Africa and African's do not need me to go over and rescue them. An honest look at several projects happening in various parts of Africa, all motivated by a desire to "do good" in Africa. This book along with several others such as "When Helping Hurts" "Toxic Charity" "Serving with Eyes Wide Open" and many others have radically changed how I "do good." An honest evaluation of the service work I perform, the charities I donate money to, and how the people at the receiving end are affected and whether or not the projects we support are encouraging empowerment or dependence. Another must read if you work in the development sector.

 7. Redeeming Love: By Francine Rivers- This work of historical fiction forever changed the way I read the book of Hosea. I used to skim through Hosea with disinterest. That is no longer so. This book opened my eyes to a wondrous love story in an entirely new way. It created a vivid picture of just how deep and wide we are loved by God, and created in me a hope that I might one day meet my own Michael Hosea. This is one of the few books that I have read through several times.

6. God in a Brothel: An Undercover Journey into Sex Trafficking and Rescue: By Daniel Walker- I read this book in preparation for the project I was scheduled to go on in Cambodia (which ended up getting cancelled). To say this book broke my heart would be an understatement. How does one put into words the pain and wretchedness that happens inside the walls of a child brothel? Somehow, Daniel Walker, an undercover detective who works to free these children, finds a way. The high personal cost Daniel pays to do this work garners a high level of respect from me. This book disturbed me and created in me a heart for trafficked individuals.

5. Shake Hands with the Devil- The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda: By LGen. Romeo Dallaire- I read this book when I was in University at a time in my life when I had little spare time to do reading of my own choosing. A few minutes on the bus here, a few minutes in the library there, and I was through this book. At the time, I didn't know I would one day walk the streets of Rwanda, or be involved in helping design a counseling centre there, but this book started awakening the heart for Africa that I believe has always existed in me. I came away from this book deeply heartbroken, wondering how humanity could be capable of such an atrocity. The people I met in Rwanda a few years later, many of whom had lived through the genocide inspired me in an entirely new way. I have nothing but the deepest respect for Lt-Gen Dallaire.

 4. Mere Christianity: By C.S. Lewis- C.S. Lewis is perhaps one of the most quoted writers of all time. After reading this book I understood why. As someone who ponders spiritual matters deeply, I was intrigued by C.S. Lewis' conversion from atheism to Christianity. This book wasn't as heavy as I was expecting, but was deep and challenging and has stayed with me in the years since I've read it.

3. Overrated: By Eugene Cho- As someone who claims to love justice, this book went straight for the heart. I was challenged, changed, and inspired to action. I was reminded that loving the idea of changing the world and getting down to the hard, messy, and inconvenient business of loving justice are two very different things. Highly recommended for anyone who wants to climb down off their high horse and evaluate the hard truth of what it means to live justly.

2. One Thousand Gifts: By Ann Voskamp- To say this book changed my life would be an understatement. It changed my entire outlook. I was inspired to live with deep gratitude and to find things to give thanks for in the everyday and ordinary that I didn't even know was possible. My eyes were opened to green grass, leaves swaying in the wind, frosty breath on a winter morning, crisp pages in a book, and so many other small everyday gifts I have to give thanks for. As a lover of words I was drawn in by Ann's poetic writing style. I have gifted this book to many a friend in hopes that they will be changed as much as I was.

1. The Bible- This one here is at the top of my list not because it's my favourite book to read, but because it is the book that has by far most changed and shaped me as a person. This is perhaps one of the hardest to understand books that I own, and after reading a few short chapters I don't feel changed or even necessarily inspired, but over the years of reading these pages, I have been changed in ways I don't even fully understand. Slowly, reading a bit everyday, change has come, in increments so small I scarcely even notice, but over the long term, the changes have been such, that I am no longer the person I once was. And to think the journey has only just begun.

Running the race. . .

I saw the message on my screen and my heart leaped. An international running race in the place I love. Right in the heart of Uganda. I sent the link off to my friends and asked them if any of the former street boys they work with might be interested. Running fever swept them up hard and fast and I shared in their excitement and anticipation of running in their very first race. I wanted to join them, but I knew I couldn’t. It was impossible, it was too expensive, it was too busy at work, I was going to be overseas just a few weeks before and that was just going to be too much traveling. Still they asked, would I come? I said no. God said yes. My faith it turns out, was far too small. I forgot that I serve a God who likes to remind me that dreams are not impossible things.  One by one all those impossible reasons fell away; my boss said yes, funding for a flight came unexpectedly, and I knew deep in my bones that this was meant to be, even if flying clear across the world for a few short days seemed like a crazy thing to do.

The day of the race, adrenaline was pumping. I remembered back to my first long distance race. I didn’t know what to expect or how to channel all this unfamiliar adrenaline or how to recognize and manage the differences between a training run and a race. And I saw all those same things in these boys who have become so special to me. I wanted to tell them, and to some of them I tried, but sometimes there are things in life that must be experienced to be truly understood. They ran hard and they ran well. I ran too, but not as fast as them, and that’s ok. We all had fun, but I think for most of them it was a learning experience. They learned what endurance means. What it means to keep on running even when everything inside you tries to make you believe quitting is the only option. They learned to overcome. But they also learned how hard long distance running can be, how important training is, to build up not only the physical endurance required to run a long distance race, but also the mental stamina. Training didn’t seem so important until they were halfway through the race and presented with finding endurance within themselves.

They, and I, we both lived a dream. Felt the sweet success of crossing a finish line. But they also found out that sometimes dreams look different than we thought they might. They are harder, and longer, and more full of steep and unrelenting hills that none of us feel like climbing. And sometimes when we arrive at the finish line, we are full of disappointment. We did it, but we wanted to do better. We didn’t win the race, it was harder than we thought and perhaps we wonder if all that effort was really even worth it. But I want them to know, it was. They made me proud. They were victorious even if they didn’t feel like they were. Sometimes victory lies not in winning the race but in overcoming the struggle. They did their best, and their running and their lives have taught me to turn my eyes to the heavens and trade all of my dreams for His. Even if they look different and go down roads that are longer and harder than I want to travel. They remind me to keep. on. running.  We can’t all win the race, but we can run with endurance, we can lead by becoming less. The people of Uganda, they teach me to love. To be aware of those who run around me. To invest in their pain. To be a person of the Word.

“Because People of the Word are to be for the voiceless, to stand with the silenced, to never make pain out to be invisible, as injustice is intolerable. Because People of the Church are to be those who stand up so safe places open up, who lead by always going lower, who expose and confront abuse everywhere they find it, so the hope of the Gospel can be of use anywhere it goes."- Ann Voskamp  

The Welcome Sign I found in my room.  It made me so happy!

We had a presentation ceremony to hand out the boy's t-shirts.

Thanks and Gratitude to Nimblewear for generously donating custom running t-shirts for all the boys to run in.

Getting ready at the start line

Me Running!

Now that's what you call a cheering section! 

After the race

Love these guys!

I found some kids!

Dancing after the race

The aftermath. . . a few sore boys.

Reflections on Nepal

I feel it is time for me to share a few words on Nepal.  It's as though these words are going to work their way out of my soul whether I want them to or not.  They are here in the crevices of my broken heart, rising to the surface and out onto this page.

Most of you know I was in Nepal two weeks ago. That my Dad and I trekked to Everest Base Camp and back. That we walked on paths and streets that are now filled with rubble.  Slept in villages that may no longer exist.  And it is all somewhat surreal.  To be getting multitudes of messages from people giving thanks for my life. Telling me they are oh so happy I'm alive. Just this morning I got an e-mail in my office inbox, wanting to know if I was safe and accounted for. It is sobering to know just how many people care. To know there are that many people who care about your very existence.

There are only a few people in my inner circle who know what it means to see a tragedy on the television and connect it to a name and a face of someone you know. For me this is not the first. I sat back in 2010 and watched as the earth shook in Haiti and I had to sit at home and wonder if all those children I loved were still alive. And then to feel the sweet relief of hearing they were, but my heart tightened when I heard they were sleeping outside for days after, scared and trembling as aftershocks continued to shake the earth. And then I remembered a little girl I had met in church. She came up and took my hand all dressed up in a pretty flowered dress with white bows in her hair and said something to her Mother in Creole. Her Mother then turned to me and said, "My daughter, she wants you to know that she loves you." And there on January 12, 2010 I sat back and saw Carrefour, her neighbourhood, on TV reduced to a pile of rubble and my heart ached because I wanted to know she was safe but I didn't, and I still don't.

And so, this here, seeing Nepal up-heaved and collapsed, it doesn't get easier, the pain of watching all that devastation, perhaps, it just gets a bit more familiar, but not easier. I feel sweet relief as I read that all staff and guides from our trekking company and alive and accounted for. And I see on Facebook that some of the climbers we met who were living at Everest Base Camp are safe and helping in the relief efforts and I am relieved once more.

My Dad and I we visited this amazing organization called SASANE that provides women rescued out of trafficking with legal education to stop the cycle.  I get an e-mail in my inbox this morning that those precious ladies we met are all alive.  Homeless and struggling is what they said. But Praise God for life.

I know that things will change for the people of Nepal. That perhaps 12 noon on April 25 will be the moment that changed everything.  When I went back to Haiti after the earthquake, everyone I met chopped time in two. Everything was referred to as either before January 12 or after January 12. One Pastor told me that his people would never be the same, would never be able to live without fear again. I hope that for both the people of Haiti and the people of Nepal that this will not be so. That the sun will rise and set on their joy and not their fear.   

My prayer for them is for strength to face these struggles. That beauty will rise from these ashes. My heart breaks, but as Ann says " It’s the broken hearts that find the haunting loveliness of a new beat — it’s the broken hearts that make a song that echoes God’s."  I hope that one day those beautiful and resilient people can sing again. That their hearts won't sing with fear, but with joy for the gift of life. But for right now, in the middle of the struggle and the hunger and the chaos, I simply hope and pray that they will find peace and the provisions they need.  

Being right in the middle of village culture gave a face to all the destruction I see on TV.

I hope this little guy has the opportunity to watch many more trekkers pass through his village

The village of Namche Bazaar

Although these two climbers we met from International Mountain Guides won't get to summit Everest this year, I was so relieved to hear they have been accounted for.