What does poverty mean? It all depends.

What does poverty mean to a child orphaned by cancer and abandoned by his father? It means he has to learn how to dream again.

What does poverty mean to the great aunt taking care of him, and his six year old sister? It means fear. Fear that someone may take the children away from her.

What does poverty mean to a mother who lost her two-year old child to pneumonia while waiting at the hospital for treatment? It means the Body of Christ is a refuge.

What does poverty mean to a man once persecuted because of his faith? It means he becomes a pastor and serves His Savior for 28 years and counting.

What does poverty mean to a boy who learns about Jesus Christ on a regular basis? It means self-respect, self-esteem and the ability to love.

What does poverty mean to you? I don’t know exactly.

But I do know it’s an opportunity to provide an opportunity. And it means possible discomfort and sacrifice.

It definitely means joy too.

It means hope for one who may have given up hope.

It means a future.

What does poverty mean to a child without a sponsor? It means a sponsor is needed.

To the masses of poor, poverty means dependence, marginalization, scarcity, incapacity and restrictions on rights and freedoms.

Poverty is defined by the World Bank as hunger, lack of shelter, being sick and not being able to see a doctor. It’s not having access to school and not knowing how to read. Poverty means not having a job, fear for the future and living one day at a time. Poverty is powerlessness.

But the most important question we need to ask ourselves and each other is,

What does poverty mean to God?

Photos by Keely Marie Scott and Patricia Jones from the Compassion Bloggers trip to Ecuador.

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From Vida Abundante Student Center (EC-431) in Ecuador.

“Is that kind of persecution still common in Ecuador?” I asked Pablo, one of our translators, over the sound of rattling windows as we bumped down broken roads.

“Among the indigenous people it is, yes.” And I didn’t expect such barbarism still lingered. Not here. In a democracy? In my hemisphere? In a developing nation?

I leaned across the aisle and turned an ear.

“Two years ago my friend, George,” he began. “George was teaching the bible and they came and poured gasoline on him. He kept preaching. They told him to stop or they would light a match. He kept preaching. They lit a match and threw it on him. Nothing happened. He kept preaching.”

Pablo was grinning. Becoming more and more animated with each sentence.

“They kept lighting matches and throwing them on him. Nothing happened. He kept preaching! And many know Jesus after that.”

Read the entire post by Shaun Groves

Visit compassionbloggers.com on a daily basis to experience the highlights of the Ecuador blog trip through the words, pictures and videos of the team.

And follow the team on Twitter to make sure you don’t miss a single thing.

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What is poverty?

Poverty is a termite eating away at a child’s heart, mind and self-esteem. And poverty is a liar.

Poverty is overwhelming, frightening and debilitating, but not invincible.

Poverty is a monster. Poverty is a cancer. Poverty is a thief.

Poverty is a prison cell with the key in sight, but just out of reach. Poverty is a lack of opportunity.

Poverty is a plague, chain and a cockroach. It’s also the most ridiculous thing in the world.

Where is poverty?

It isn’t in the future for our children.

All photos by Keely Marie Scott from the Compassion Bloggers trip to Ecuador.

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From Carita Feliz (Happy Face) Child Development Center (EC-478) in Ecuador.

At one point during our visit we walked to the back of the home, where the family owns a small plot of land that’s adjacent their grandfather’s land. The soil was rich, the land was tilled – but the family hadn’t finished planting all of their seeds.

A staff member from the Child Development Center asked us if we’d like to help, so Kelly, Patricia and I each grabbed a handful of corn. We’d turn over a section of soil, drop in four pieces of corn, then walk another foot and repeat the process. We did this over and over for about half an hour, moving from row to row, visiting with Rosa Maria and her children as we planted.

And on the third or fourth row, I looked down at what we were doing, and I thought, This is it. THIS IS IT.

Barring something totally unexpected, I’ll never witness the harvest of those seeds.

But.

I’m no less invested in the outcome just because I may not see it in person.

Read the entire post at BooMama.net.

Visit compassionbloggers.com on a daily basis to experience the highlights of the Ecuador blog trip through the words, pictures and videos of the team.

And follow the team on Twitter to make sure you don’t miss a single thing.

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Our team of Compassion Bloggers will be in Ecuador later this week (Nov. 8-12, 2011).

During the week you will get a glimpse of what it is like to live in this beautiful country. Whether or not you sponsor a child in Ecuador, you can follow this journey through the eyes of:

• Amanda
• Ann
• Keely
• Kelly
• Patricia
• Shaun
• Melanie
• Sophie

As we share about this trip, we welcome any questions you may have. So be sure to check in often to read firsthand what God is doing to eradicate poverty in Ecuador.

Do you tweet? Follow the team on Twitter.

Don’t have a Twitter account? Not a worry – you can always follow the latest news about this trip here or at compassionbloggers.com.

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Earlier this year, while my husband was on sabbatical in Peru, I spent time at the Tesoros del Señor Child Development Center. I visited the center every Wednesday for five weeks.

A friend at the church I attended in Lima was familiar with the center because it is connected to her former church in Villa el Salvador. She introduced me to the center staff.

In my time observing Compassion’s ministry, I learned six small, but important, lessons.

1. Poverty is invisible to the rich people who live nearby.

   Because they are afraid to go into the poor neighborhoods, locals who could give their time and resources don’t know what is needed.

2. It’s the little things in life that can bring the greatest joy.

   It was orange season when I was in Peru and that meant each child got a fresh mandarin orange after lunch. They were so delighted with this simple dessert.

   Also, after weeks of using pencil stubs to color with, the children were grateful to get new colored pencils to use. They were always grateful for the smallest kindness, particularly when I sat down next to children as they colored. They loved having me watch (and praise) their drawing.



3. Poor people don’t travel.

   While visiting the church, I made several tourist trips around the country and was embarrassed when I realized the staff at the child development center haven’t been out of their city. Nevertheless, they were gracious in asking me about my trips and interested in hearing how I liked their country.

4. Living with less leads to great faith.

   The women who work at the center showed great faith in God during their morning devotions. They had so much less materially than my family and friends, but so much more trust in God’s provision. Perhaps saying God provides all I need is backwards. Maybe the right idea is: I need what God provides. That seemed to be the case for these women of faith.

5. Hugs and smiles speak volumes when the language doesn’t work so well.

   The children who spoke little English had no trouble communicating their pleasure at my presence even though I spoke little Spanish. And although I was nervous about my poor Spanish, they didn’t mind at all and understood me.

6. Fasting from riches makes me more thankful.

   When I returned home I was so grateful for the little things I had access to, like fresh vegetables. I was less caught up in all the stuff I might have wanted before. I passed on this gratitude to my family as well. A fast from riches makes us feel richer in Christ as well.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Eunice Lehmacher is a licensed social worker with a counseling practice in Seneca, South Carolina. She and her husband have two sons and live in Clemson, South Carolina, where her husband is a physics professor at Clemson University.

If you’re interested in writing a guest blog post, we are happy to consider publishing it. Read our guest blog post guidelines.

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Recently a very well-known Mommy Blogger traveled to Bangladesh with a non-profit organization dedicated to child and maternal health.

Immediately following her first post from the developing country, the UK news publication The Guardian ran an article labeling her trip another example of “poverty tourism” in which “westerners [are] flown to dirt-poor regions to solemnly observe the impoverished in their natural habitats.”

The article noted that what often happens with blogging trips is that the bloggers write lengthy, gut-wrenching, emotion-filled posts that motivate readers to act, but then offer little tangible way to take action other than simply signing a petition.

“Where blogger-engagement projects often fall down is in closing the deal: having aroused the empathy of an engaged audience, they fail to provide something potent for people to do next.

“If you’ve just read a post about children working 14 hours a day scavenging material from towering heaps of putrefied waste, you probably want to do something more effective than signing a petition or sending an email to your elected representative; but frequently, this is all that’s on offer.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. I doubt there’s much that’s more frustrating than getting your emotions all stirred up, only to be left helpless with no way to do anything about what you’ve just learned.

You should know that at Compassion we don’t want you to feel helpless — we’d rather you feel empowered. We don’t want you to feel discouraged, but encouraged that you are able to make a difference. And not just a small one. That’s why we focus on offering you so many different ways to get involved.

As our President and CEO, Wess Stafford, often says, there are two main reasons why people do not take action:

1. They don’t know what to do.
2. They don’t know whom to trust.

We want to be the answer to both of those questions.

One way we do this is to offer trips to see our work around the world. Our sponsor tours, vision trips and blogging trips, however, are all carefully and strategically designed to empower participants, not incapacitate them.

For the record, we refuse to engage in anything even remotely resembling poverty tourism. While other organizations may ask you to simply sign a petition, we want more from you … much more. We want your passion. We want your heart. We want your deep, God-given desire to change the world. And we promise not to leave you helpless.

We’ve found that one of Satan’s favorite tactics is to make you feel impotent. To get you to believe that no matter what you do, it won’t make a difference.

It’s our goal to eradicate that feeling. How are we doing?

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Thailand is full of coffee artists. Wherever you go for a cup of Joe, they try to outdo their coffee competitors with creative patterns and swirls of blended foam.

I hate to even stir in a spoonful of sugar for fear of ruining the coffee canvas. But since the coffee won’t stay hot forever, I choose to capture each creation digitally.

But my absolute favorite of all time is:

How on earth?

This post was originally published in Oct. 2008 on Michael’s personal blog, Build Your Walls! Guard Your Gates!

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Emilda’s first race is today. It’s at 10 a.m. Greece time, which is 1 a.m. MDT. Her division races are scheduled through June 29. If Emilda wins in these, she qualifies to continue running for a chance to win medals.

This is the Panathenaic Stadium which was the site of last night’s Opening Ceremonies.

The stadium is in the center of Athens and was reconstructed from the remains of an ancient Greek stadium. It played host to the first modern Olympic Games in 1896 and is the only stadium in the world built entirely of white marble.

Emilda and her Filipino teammates marched proudly along with 7,500 other special athletes from 185 countries.

We know this because we have a team in Greece with Emilda.

• Chuck Bigger, the man responsible for many of the photographs you’ve come to associate with Compassion
• Leanna Summers, the editor of Compassion Magazine
• Jeff Arnold, videographer extraordinnarie

Before “Team Emilda” went to Greece, they met up with our star in the Philippines.

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It was difficult to sleep. Anticipation had kept me awake, as did the roosters crowing every half hour, the dogs barking (probably fighting over a discarded dinner bone), and the stuffy, humid air.

I wake up early and eagerly get ready for the long-planned visit with Ancyto, the Compassion International child my family and I sponsor in Haiti. The hired driver/interpreter is due to arrive at about 10 a.m.

I linger, getting things organized. Camera. Water bottles. Protein bar. Cell phone. When I get to our breakfast room I see the driver has already arrived. It’s only 7:30 a.m.

The cab driver and I head out early. We must travel a roundabout route because the more direct road was washed out in the last hurricane and has yet to be repaired. It’ll be a 90-minute ride. The driver and I chat as I stare out the window at the changing countryside. He tells me of history and events of Haiti.

I watch as we pass naked children. Women dip water from a mud puddle where their donkey is urinating. Other women are leaving the large, murky puddle with their containers filled.

We wind along bumpy, potholed roads, up and down mountain sides, to a large river where we stop.

The driver makes a phone call and talks loudly in Creole. He is concerned whether we can get through the river.

The driver then puts the vehicle in low gear. We start into the river and are soon up to the door in water. We begin to climb the bank on the other side. We made it. It is not far now.

The view is a lovely green-blue of ocean water; beaches are dotted with roaming cattle grazing on a few blades of grass.

We are in Cotes de Fer, another community seeped in despair and hopelessness. With no work available, men sit around the town park, looking about aimlessly. Earthquake rubble sits just as it did more than a year ago. Naked children run through the streets. Garbage litters the curbside.

Meeting Ancyto

We pull up to the child development center. My heart is beating wildly again. The palms of my hands are moist. I search for the face I have posted on my refrigerator at home.

We enter a small room and he stands from a chair in the corner. Ancyto! I put out my hand to touch his. He is so tall. Oh, that’s right, he’s 14. He doesn’t smile and I’m wiping tears and chatting. The interpreter is trying to keep up with what I am saying, snapping pictures of us every 30 seconds.

We sit in a small, dark room of Ancyto’s school and chat about his schoolwork and favorite subjects. I give him gifts — a soccer ball, a pair of sandals, a package of gum. Ancyto pockets the gum with a smile.

I tell him about my children and their interests and show him pictures from the small album I made for him — pictures from the farm, pictures of my children, pictures of us as a family. Ancyto looks intently and turns the pages slowly. He comes back to pictures of my 16-year-old. He looks again at pictures of my youngest son and smiles. I cry.

My heart longs to touch this young man’s heart, to make a difference in his life. We go for a walk and he shows me his classrooms — simple plywood structures after the earthquake flattened the previous child development center.

I meet Ancyto’s mother and sisters. We walk through town to visit their home and pass many of their friends. I’m introduced to his older brother. We meet Ancyto’s father, who leaves the group of sitting men and walks with us.

We arrive at their simple, small, crowded, freshly cleaned home. Jagged cracks in the wall show the obvious earthquake damage. Ancyto’s mother is so proud to have me in their home.

We talk about gardens. We talk about raising children. She shows me a basket of fresh fruit she has arranged for me to take home. I feel all warm and flushed because this is such a big gift for a family of little means.

Dad has no work. They have very few possessions. They struggle to survive, yet they give me a gift. Me — an American with a good job, a farm, and here in Haiti to minister to them. I am overwhelmed.

It is soon time to leave and I feel my heart tug. I want to stay longer. I want to crawl into their lives and be with them, listen to them, walk with them.

We return to the development center, where a meal has been prepared for us in honor of my visit. I am humbled. I don’t deserve such honor. I’m just as human as they are. I’m the one with much.

Everyone is so gracious with so little to give. We break bread together, eat and laugh and talk about Ancyto playing soccer. Ancyto is spinning the soccer ball on his finger. His face shows anticipation of kicking that ball around with the other boys. The time has come and I must say good-bye. Ancyto’s mother cries.

“Thank you, thank you so much for giving my son a better chance in life.”

My vision blurs. I brush back the wetness in fear that if I cry I might not stop. I think,

“This is so big, Lord. I want to run. Help me say good-bye. Help me to leave here graciously.”

I turn to Ancyto and touch his shoulder. He looks at me gently and touches my arm. The interpreter translates for him,

“Someday, I want to visit you – my other mother – and your family and your farm over in America.”

I respond,

“Yes, Ancyto, we will pray God would make that dream come true.”

I swallow, I hold his arms close and we embrace gently, tenderly, lingering. His 4-year-old sister tugs at my sleeve. She wants a hug too. We reach the vehicle. I get in, then turn and wave. The family huddles together, touching one another, wiping tears, waving and blowing kisses. And I pray,

Lord, I am not just sponsoring a Compassion child. Rather, You have given me another whole family. I am the one who is so blessed by these sweet people. Watch over them. Protect them. Keep their hearts only for You.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Leanne Beyer is a widowed mom of five children and has been a Compassion sponsor for several years. She was one of the first sponsors to visit her sponsored child in Haiti after the 2010 earthquake. When Leanne is not working as a registered nurse, you can find her working hard at her family’s 75-acre farm in Wisconsin.

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