I used to work on the web team, which meant that writing for the blog was part of my actual job description. But God made it clear to me that He had other plans, and now a month later, here I am working on the International Communications team. Basically, my new job is to be the communication link between our field countries (where the kids live) and the partner countries (where the sponsors live) when a crisis occurs.

A crisis is anything from a natural disaster like a hurricane or an earthquake, to a man-made one like civil unrest or war. It might be a bus accident, or a building collapsing, or a shooting, or a volcanic eruption … any event that affects a group of children in our programs. Because of the volatile nature of the developing countries where we work, crises occur frequently.

Unless you are Super-sponsor and check out the crisis update page daily, you probably are unaware of the wide variety of dangers our children face. I know I was. Even as an employee, it’s hard for me to keep up with all the events occurring around the world. It just seems like an unending list of prayer requests.

And it’s been easy for me to be more or less ignorant.

Except now the crisis reports are coming to my inbox. I’m the first one to find out if dengue fever is killing the kids in our program. I get the news if one of our projects has been looted and destroyed. I’m the person who first hears of children dying in a flood or a mudslide. When a crisis occurs, it’s my job to get accurate information to you as quickly as possible.

It’s a huge responsibility. Even as I write this, I’m overwhelmed by the responsibility God has placed on me and the trust that you place in me (and all of us who work for Compassion.) I take this responsibility seriously.

For the sake of the children we serve, I hope my job is extremely unexciting … boring even. The way the world has been lately, though, I have a feeling things will just get worse.

While this new position is emotionally heavy, I have hope because I am confident that none of this is outside of God’s control. He is not surprised by the crises. Only saddened, at times, by our response. We as Compassion employees, and you as sponsors, have been specifically appointed to be miracle-workers for children in poverty all over the world.

What a calling, huh?

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Hello. My name is Meredith Dunn. I’m the web team’s new intern, and I have never blogged before.

I recently graduated from Liberty University with a B.S. in Business Marketing. I can honestly say that I have a true passion for business and a genuine love for marketing. They’re challenging, they inspire, they’re innovative, and they’re excellent examples of competition in our socially saturated and economically dependent culture.

At the same time, marketing stimulates and increases jobs, technology, products and services, as well as creates economic stability for our country and the world. Ever since my first week of college, I have wanted to be a business woman, never once having changed my major or my mind.

That being said, upon graduating, I was very apprehensive about entering into the “Corporate America” setting. I despised the idea of reporting to an office, sitting in a cubical behind a computer, and being forced to substitute “number crunching” for human contact.

More than that, I have a deep, intrinsic fear that I will get lost in some cosmic void, becoming obsessed with work, money, the stock market, and most of all … myself.

I have witnessed such lifestyles. The selfish pursuit of wealth has left its captives devastated, lonely, and feeling as though their lives are without an innate meaning or profound purpose.

Scared of becoming yet another cog in this immortal and endless machine, I desperately wanted to find a place to work that would fulfill the deepest passion and longing in my soul: to make a difference.

I think that any Christ-follower, because of the change that Jesus has made in his or her heart, wants every area of life to be reflective of His image and productive for His kingdom. He has in fact called some to go to “Corporate America” to be a light. Others He has called to the medical field, mission field, or asked that they simply mow a field. Whatever the individual case may be, God has absolutely created and fashioned each of us with a specific talent, tool, or trade that we are to use for His glory.

My new journey begins here, at Compassion, where I will be interning for the next six weeks. I am working in the marketing department, and as I said earlier, I’m on the web team.

For those of you who noticed, a first-time blogger might not be the best asset to a technologically savvy web team. But God has a sense of humor, and so here I sit blogging to you, my webby friends.

As an outlet of emotions as well as an avenue of ideas, opinions and some much needed help, I will be writing to you frequently to keep you posted on the inner workings and latest happenings of Compassion.

My specific task is to create a new marketing campaign that will not only spur and maintain your dedicated interest, but hopefully spark the interest and hearts of others.

As I attempt to complete this assignment, I would truly appreciate and welcome your input, thoughts, suggestions, and constructive criticism (note: criticism is the last on the list) It is my hope to craft a marketing campaign that will be effective and efficient in gathering sponsors for our children.

You, Mr. and Mrs. Reader, are the target market. It is your attention that we want to capture and captivate. It is you we want to engage and involve. And with that being said, please be open and honest as I come to you with questions, ideas, etc. You know we will.

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I’ve discovered that the older I get, the more amazing my mother gets. For a few years, my mother raised me as a single mom. I was too young to remember that time, and she never talked about it much. Whenever I would ask her questions about those years, she would just shrug her shoulders. In her mind, she just did what she had to do. Eventually we moved in with my aunt, and later my mom remarried.

A few months ago, I was visiting with my aunt. We were reminiscing about my childhood when my aunt suddenly became very quiet. She turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears, and took my hands in hers.

“Your mother made so many sacrifices for you,” she said quietly. I nodded, but said nothing. I knew she wasn’t finished. “We knew things were hard for her, but we didn’t know how hard. Brandy — she would not eat so she could buy you food. She would do anything for you.”

I sat on my aunt’s porch, unable to speak. So many of my childhood memories involve food. Of my mother tearing up pieces of chicken on a bright pink plastic plate. Blowing on a bowl of steaming potatoes dotted with butter and pepper. Stirring a bubbling pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove.

I was too young to notice that sometimes her own plate was empty.

I know that my mother’s story is not an isolated experience. I know that too well. I’ve read dozens of stories and reports about families literally starving to death. Of mothers sacrificing for their children day after day. To the point of death.

I’m not a mother yet. I don’t know what it’s like to love a child that completely — that sacrificially. But I do know that my mother had family who stepped in when things were bad. Sadly, mothers in poverty-stricken communities often don’t have that same kind of support.

I will never be able to repay my mother for the sacrifices she made for me. But I can learn from her sacrifice. I can skip eating out and donate to a local food pantry. I can forgo my coffee shop visits and give to mothers desperate to feed their children.

I can give food to those who are hungry. Just like my mother did.

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Recently, we gave you the chance to ask Edwin Estioko, our Field Communication Specialist in the Philippines all your burning questions about himself, the Philippines and Compassion in the Philippines. Here are his answers …

1. Can you tell about the time when you first decided to work for Compassion? (Catherine)

Before Compassion I was production manager for OMF Literature (the biggest Christian publisher in the Philippines) and a writer of children’s books. I grew up at church serving and teaching little children; playing with them and just enjoying their company. When I saw the ad for a Communications Specialist for Compassion International in the Philippines, I was literally drawn in. Feeling a strong sense of peace and confidence that the Lord was calling me to this beautiful ministry for children, I applied for the post and on the same week filed for resignation from OMF despite not knowing for sure whether Compassion would hire me or not. Thank God they did.

2. What goals do you hope to accomplish in your area? (Jason)

I hope that through the photographs I take and stories I write about Filipino children I could reach as many readers as I can around the world so that more and more people would stand up for children and advocate for them, so that more and more could see that thousands of children and families here in the Philippines truly lack opportunities for a better life (or simply for a livable minimum) despite the fact that they are hard working and full of faith.

What drives me is Proverbs 31:8, “to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.”

3. What have been the toughest times of your life, and what have you learned from these trials? (Juli Jarvis) (more…)

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We wanted ‘em. Now we got ‘em. Meet the 2008 All-Star Compassion International Internship Squad! Yaaayy!

Give ‘em a hearty welcome, y-doncha.

Back row: Meredith Dunn, Tim Hurley, Adam Kroneberger, Nicole Bond, Carl Chan, Molly Gibson, Brooke Gilbert and Abby Steiger

Middle row: Abby Walter, Whitney Davis, Barb Liggett and Big Jesus

Front row: Amos Garcia, Emily Royal, and Abbe Knake

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“The opposite of poverty is enough.”

Have you heard us say this before?

Answer first, before reading on. (more…)

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Last week a small group of us stood in Juan’s yard in Ciudad Sandino, Nicaragua, to learn more about him and his family’s life. This was part of a sponsor tour home visit and seven of us branched off from the rest of the group to visit Juan.

The air was hot and still with some pesky flies and mosquitoes buzzing around. Juan’s wife, Brenda, did most of the talking. They have three children, and all of them were sponsored in the local Compassion child development centers. Three is the maximum number of children from one family that can be enrolled, so that alone told me they were in a desperate situation.

A few from the group sat in some plastic chairs in front of their 12 x 12 single-room house made of scrap boards, cinder blocks and a rusting tin roof. We asked questions about their kids, their jobs, their hopes and dreams, etc. One of their sons and two other local boys were high above us in the branches of the mamón tree, gathering the small fruit to eat or sell, causing small branches and leaves to fall around us from time to time.

At most homes we visit on these trips we are welcomed inside. It was different here. Brenda was embarrassed about how little they had, ashamed of their poverty. We all knew that Juan and his family were not less than us; they just have less than us. Despite that, their poverty has begun to work in their minds and hearts to cause feelings of shame and embarrassment over their situation.

When we realized this, it was uncomfortable, and we quickly tried to lighten the conversation. We asked how we could pray for them and specifically for Juan — and even then it was Brenda who answered for him. Not wanting to make the meeting so one-sided, we encouraged them to ask questions of us. Most times, the questions we get are pretty light: does it snow where we live, what church do we attend, etc. I wasn’t prepared for the weight of the question when Juan finally spoke:

“For you, when you help take care of our children, is it easy for you, or is it a sacrifice?”

It’s easy to get caught up in life in America, the richest country and culture in the history of the world. And by American standards, perhaps I am sacrificing to help children like Juan’s. We don’t have cable, we own and share one car, and we try to curb our desire for new clothes and other things, buying stuff second hand when we can.

But looking at Juan and Brenda and all they have to do to care for their children, the truth, the absolute truth, is that I know nothing of sacrifice. I have never faced the choices they face daily, and I probably never will. I don’t have to choose between medicine for a sick child and food for the rest of the family. It wouldn’t even cross my mind to sacrifice my young child’s education to get him out earning money for the family. I brush up against poverty on these trips, and we sponsor several children and donate in other areas, but looking at their lives it is clear that what we do is easy and requires no true sacrifice on our part.

It is I who should be embarrassed and ashamed, not Juan and Brenda.

Lord Jesus, show me more and more how I can serve you with all that I am, how to truly sacrifice, how to truly lay down my life for others, for You.

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If you’re new here, our CEO, Wess Stafford, didn’t write this post, but he did answer the question. We recorded his answer and transcribed it for your reading pleasure.

Read all the posts in the Wess Speaks series.

• I remember you telling us how the idea of LDP came to you as you were taking a walk in your garden. I have always wondered what kind of trees were in the garden and what sounds were there? (Anthony Njoroge)

Wow — you have an amazing memory.

It was on the little ranch that I now own that I first had the thought of the Leadership Development Program (LDP). I didn’t even own the ranch then, I was just kind of walking through it. The trees I was walking through were Ponderosa Pines and the sounds that were all around me were squirrels chattering, cattle grazing and birds chirping. That was 11 years ago.

My great joy is out of that thought (that I’m sure was from God) we now have 1,800 LDP students. These are students who are going through university.

About two weeks ago I was in India for the country’s first LDP graduation down in Chennai, which used to be Madras. We graduated 16 that day, but there are 97 more university students in that program who will graduate in the next three or four years.

I go to the very first LDP graduation of each country. I can’t go to them all, but I’ve promised that I’ll be at the first one.

I met one of the young men in that LDP who is a medical student. Last year 205,000 of India’s sharpest and brightest took the medical entrance exams that the government puts out. That LDP medical student, whose father is a peasant farmer, placed second in the entire nation on the exam. That’s the kind of outstanding people we have in this program.

Yeah, okay some of them are still four and five years old and in the Child Sponsorship Program. Some of them are still in their momma’s womb. But when you think of the potential! What a loss the world would have if we didn’t give these kids the chance to, first of all reach their potential, but then also to reach that potential with a heart to give back. What would the world be like?

Do we still have cancer because the guy that was supposed to cure cancer grew up in a dump in Guatemala and didn’t make it? Or maybe he is running a sugarcane stand somewhere?

Every time I see these young people, especially when they are really, really small, I can’t help asking myself, What are they becoming? What has God knit into them in their momma’s womb? He knit their DNA. And what is His plan? What is His hope and future that He says He has for these little ones?

For the 1,800 that we’ve got in the Leadership Development Program, I’m thrilled to see that not only are they in the top of their classes, but they’re also the leaders on their campuses.

And I have no doubt that the young man I met is going to be a remarkable doctor. So I ask myself Who picked up his little child packet when there was a little four-year-old cute guy on the table? I bet they had no idea that God had orchestrated for this little guy to grow up to be a doctor, or a pastor, or president of the country.

So that’s where the idea of the LDP came from, walking through the Ponderosa Pines on my little ranch, and it was one of my absolute greatest joys.

Popularity: 33% [?]

If you’re new here, our CEO, Wess Stafford, didn’t write this post, but he did answer the question. We recorded his answer and transcribed it for your reading pleasure.

Read all the posts in the Wess Speaks series.

• Fire ants? (Kalaya G.)

I was nine. These were army ants, actually, and these things would come in streams of two or three inches wide … millions of them. As they went across the plains of Africa, everything feared them. They just migrated around. If they came to a rabbit hutch with rabbits in it, they could swarm on those rabbits, move on in a half hour, and all you would have left was bones. So we were scared to death of them.

You could see them for miles away. We would go out to meet them with fire on the end of sticks, and we would burn the leaders. They would hiss and spread out, and our hope was, when they regrouped, that they’d be angled in a different direction — not straight at our house.

We put insecticide powder all around the edge of the house to kill these things. But if they invaded your house, you had no choice but to get out. You couldn’t fight them. They would go through the house and eat anything made of meat — all the spiders, all of the lizards … everything would get eaten.

I slept in my little cot with the bedposts in #10 cans of kerosene so that the ants couldn’t come up and bite me. One night it was very, very hot and in my sleep I kicked my sheet off onto the floor. The ants crawled up the sheet and crawled onto me. I didn’t feel a thing until one of them went across my cheek.

In my sleep I reached up, thinking it was a mosquito, and slapped it. That put them all in a panic and they all bit at once. There were hundreds of these things — I was black with ants. I screamed and I ran to my folks.

These ants don’t just bite; they inject poison, so it was insanely painful. And the poison can kill you.

My folks had to pull them off of me one by one. Then I swelled up like a balloon. There was no time to get to the hospital, which was a day’s drive away, so all we could do is pray that I wouldn’t die.

I killed thousands of snakes as a kid. I lived among lions. But the ants were the scariest thing. So now I step on every ant I see.

To anyone who reads this blog, I need you to join me in this cause. Thank you for helping children in poverty, but my bigger cause is to step on ants!

I will go all the way across the sidewalk to get one. It’s a new movement. I need thousands of people to join me in this battle. I will never get even with them!

Popularity: 32% [?]

If you’re new here, our CEO, Wess Stafford, didn’t write this post, but he did answer the question. We recorded his answer and transcribed it for your reading pleasure.

Read all the posts in the Wess Speaks series.

• What are the first names of the children you sponsor, and what countries? Any special stories you like to tell about them? (Juli Jarvis)

1. Emmanuel (India)
2. Rene (Haiti)
3. Diego (Ecuador)
4. Laura (Bolivia)
5. Alba (Ecuador)
6. Mercedes (Ecuador)
7. Yolanda (Ecuador)
8. Veronica (Bolivia)
9. Sisay (Ethiopia)
10. Fatuma (Uganda)
11. Viola (Uganda)
12. Melecio (Bolivia)
13. Peter (Tanzania)
14. Eliana (Ecuador)
15. azmin (Ecuador)
16. Soinkan (Kenya)
17. Edithe (Burkina Faso)

I know these kids because if you come to our house, you’ll see a big poster next to our breakfast nook with these kids and their progressive pictures over the years. I have visited them all. These kids have been in our lives. About half of them have graduated from the program now, but they are still in my prayers. Some of them I am still in contact with.

Emmanuel now owns his own bicycle business. Rene is a pastor. Mercedes is an architect. Yolanda is the health worker in the Compassion project in Otavalo. Sisay just graduated from the program.

I would love to be a part of the Leadership Development Program. The minute one of our kids qualifies for the program, we’ll do that.

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