Hello everyone. I didn’t expect to get “corporate” on you so quickly, but … our AIDS Initiative was featured on FOX21, Colorado Springs’ local FOX affiliate the other day.

And since Monday was World AIDS Day, and Amber and Becky wrote about the AIDS Initiative, I felt compelled to jump in too.

Take a look to see how we’re fighting the AIDS pandemic, one child and one family at a time.

Hello Compassion Blog readers.

Sorry I haven’t contributed much lately. I’m still here and still handling crisis communications, in case you were wondering. There is something that has been on my mind that I feel compelled to share with you.

I’m gonna step outside my comfort zone for a minute to share this with you. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis. I was diagnosed with it when I was 15, so I’ve had it for half my life, but you’d probably never know it if you met me. I don’t talk about it much. Most people I interact with on a regular basis don’t even know. In the past 10 years the medical research and pharmaceutical industries have come a long way in treating the disease, and this has allowed me to live to a virtually pain-free, symptom-free life.

But here’s the thing. I have a normal life simply because I happen to have been born in the United States. I have access to powerful drugs. I have insurance to cover the (outrageously high) cost of them. Certainly I am grateful for this, but lately I’ve been thinking about what my life would be like if I were born into poverty in a developing country. What if I was from rural Rwanda? Or a slum in the Philippines? Or a poor community in Nicaragua?

I’d more than likely be totally crippled by now. At 30 years old.

This thought really freaks me out, to be honest with you. I cannot imagine what it would be like to not be able to stand up straight, to walk, or to grip things. To live in constant, life-altering pain. I feel guilty for being happy I was born here. I don’t have to try to live with this disease without the help of drugs. I am not crippled. I assume it’s similar in a way to the guilt a person feels when they survive a car accident where the other passengers died . . . the ugly injustice of it. I understand that God’s ways are higher than our ways, but I struggle to understand why He chooses for some — why He chose ME — to be born into affluence and why He chooses some to be born into poverty. It’s not fair.

Nowhere is this injustice more evident than in the fight against HIV and AIDS. December 1 was World AIDS Day, and Brianne told you about our AIDS Initiative. The amazing thing about this program is that it literally restores justice to an unjust world. Without access to antiretroviral drugs, those battling AIDS in poverty-stricken countries fight an unwinnable war. By providing the antiretroviral therapy, Compassion allows children with death sentences another chance at life. A chance that, had they been born here, they would have had simply by virtue of their nationality.

If anyone is in the position to get this, it’s Godfrey. He understands that he is alive today because Compassion is fighting the injustice of HIV and AIDS in Uganda. His life is his testimony.

Compassion’s AIDS Initiative is more than just drugs. It’s nutritional support. It’s the critical laboratory testing. It’s psychosocial support. It’s treatment of opportunistic infections. It’s transportation assistance. It’s income generation. It’s housing repair. It’s all the opportunities that a person suffering from HIV here in the U.S. would have.

The AIDS Initiative essentially levels the playing field to give every victim of HIV — no matter where they were born — an equal chance to survive this devastating disease.

When Aline in Burkina Faso (not her real name) was first found to be HIV positive, the other children in the family would inch away when she came near. 

Now that Deede in Ghana has found out she is HIV positive, she’s afraid that if anyone else finds out they’ll stop buying her doughnuts, her only way of making a living. 

When neighbors in Ethiopia found out that 15-year-old Tigist was living with HIV, they told the family to stay away from them and not touch anything of theirs.

Tigist didn’t tell her friends she’s HIV positive; she couldn’t handle their rejection. But they have already started to whisper. She decided to drop out of school. 

One of the huge challenges facing people living with HIV around the world is not only the physical illness, but the overwhelming stigmatization and discrimination that exists in many countries.

People living with HIV are often shunned, disowned, feared, and thrown out. Many people who suspect they might be infected don’t go for an HIV test. They’re too afraid neighbors will see them on the way to the clinic and too afraid of what they might find out. 

Many people who are found to be HIV positive are too afraid to speak out and advocate for others living with HIV. They don’t know what will happen to them.

One mother who is assisted by Compassion says, “I wish I could talk openly to people to try and know their status, but I do not have the courage yet. Maybe I will one day.” 

Beneficiaries of the AIDS Initiative aren’t always comfortable sharing their stories. One mother recently asked that her son’s name not be used for fear that if the sponsor found out her son was HIV positive, he would cancel the sponsorship. Others don’t want their pictures shown for fear that someone in their country might see it. 

This is one reason that sometimes, as with Aline, we change the names of the people whose stories we tell. It’s also why we never reveal the location of beneficiaries of the AIDS Initiative beyond the country they live in. 

Compassion-assisted churches are working to end the stigma and discrimination. Advocacy events and classes to educate about HIV are held at child development centers, and damaging myths about the life-threatening illness are dispelled.

HIV-positive parents are becoming brave and starting support groups and even businesses together. Many governments worldwide are working to raise awareness of HIV and offering free testing and antiretroviral therapy. Attitudes are slowly beginning to change. People are voluntarily being tested. Children and parents are getting the treatment they need, and slowly parents are speaking up to support others who are living with HIV. 

Tigist decided staying at home wasn’t a good option. After receiving counsel and encouragement from her project, Tigist has enrolled in a new school in her area. She dreams of being a pediatrician, to help other children who are sick. 

Poverty is multi-faceted. It is much more intricate than just a lack of money.

And like many other aspects of poverty, HIV and AIDS have the ability to take a frightening toll on children.

Today is World AIDS Day, and I’m taking it as an opportunity to let you know how committed we are to fighting the disease.

It begins with our AIDS Initiative program, which is working on a grassroots level through the local church to take on the AIDS pandemic, one child at a time.

Ok, pause.

AIDS Initiative, pandemic, poverty . . . I don’t like throwing around these words. It is easy to just roll over the keyboard and punch out the words. But can you imagine? I mean really, can you even imagine what it is like to be infected with HIV or affected by AIDS?

To better understand the effect HIV and AIDS have on people, particularly people in the developing world, and to get a better glimpse into what the Lord is doing through Compassion, I think we need to unpack a few details. I hope your mind is engaged and your heart is prepared because I am about to give you just that.

Now, as I was saying, our AIDS Initiative works to aid one child at a time. For example, this child:

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