I told you about my new neighbor, the Port-o-Let. One morning, a new big truck came pulling up outside my apartment, and this guy in a yellow vest hopped out.

Armed with a long hose, he proceeded to suck the contents out of the Port-o-Let. Quick as lightning, he hopped back in his truck and was off. Now he’s been showing up in his big green truck each week, happily performing his duty.

And it got me thinking. It’s easy for me to complain about the little parts of my job that bug me (like paperwork and deadlines and meetings). Watching this man gave me a new appreciation for my job. Not, by any means, that I think there is more dignity in what I do than what he does. I believe that there is dignity in the work that God has given each of us to do, no matter how our culture prompts us to view it.

And learning more about the work others do around the world can give us a new perspective on our own work.

Ganesan, shown here with his family in front of his home in India, works each day as a day laborer in other’s fields to feed his wife and two children.

Working as a day laborer is a common occupation of the parents of Compassion children, as most can’t afford to own land themselves and don’t have the education to seek other employment.

Ganesan earns about 450 Rupees a week for his work — about $10.

Resty is a proud mother of two in Uganda.

Her husband is an alcoholic, so a lot of the time she has to find ways to provide for her children by herself.

She hadn’t worked before, but through the Child Survival Program, she learned how to start a small business, selling charcoal by the roadside.

She gets about 20,000 Ugandan shillings a month selling charcoal — about $12.

She also learned to weave baskets through the CSP, and sells each basket she makes for about $1.

Ryan and Axl’s dads work as fishermen in Indonesia. (And, yes, that is as in Axl Rose. His dad liked rock music.)

Their fathers leave for the ocean on fishing expeditions and are gone from their family for six weeks at a time catching mackerel.

Each trip, they earn roughly 700,000 Indonesian Rupees — about $77.

Where 17-year-old Ezequiel grew up in southern Mexico, the average worker earns $12 a week, working 20-hour days to harvest mangoes and bananas.

But Ezequiel’s dad is a carpenter who makes beautiful furniture.

At his Compassion child development center, Ezequiel learned how to carve wood, and together with their different skills, Ezequiel and his dad can make pieces like this dresser they just finished.

Once he graduates, a skilled woodworker like him can earn up to $55 a week, compared to the $12 of the day laborers harvesting mangoes.

In India, Suren and his wife, Rinu, both used to work full time in a brick factory. Suren lived in a dormitory at the factory, and Rinu would travel home each day to care for the family. Put together, they earned roughly 250 Indian Rupees a week — about $6 — for their family of six.

But Kajali (in the dark blue sweater) became sponsored, and her sponsors gave them a family gift, with which they bought this cycle van.

Now Suren earns many times over as a cycle van driver what he used to earn at the brick factory. When he was working at the factory and couldn’t provide a proper home for his family, Suren says, “as a parent, I felt worthless and of no good use.”

Those words tear my heart, and it’s sadly not the first time I’ve read the sentiment. How many mothers and fathers are out there, working so hard each day as farmers, drivers, and traders, scraping to provide just one or two meals for their children, and still feeling like failures?

Yet it’s so encouraging to know that even a small gesture can transform a family’s life. Suren is now filled with pride for the way he can care for his family. He says, “through Kajali and her beloved sponsor, we have now tasted of the goodness of God’s awesome power.”

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Have you noticed the “international” component of who we are? Compassion International.

Part of that internationality is that we work in 24 countries throughout the developing world … uh, 25 countries (you know about Togo, right?)

And the other part of that internationality is that there are 11 countries that form Compassion’s Global Partner Alliance. These are the countries where you, the sponsors, come from.

For the most part, the blog is written by Compassion U.S. staff with great contributions and insight coming from Compassion staff in the developing world. But there is more to us than those two perspectives.

Today’s post is written by Irene Kao, digital marketing specialist, in the Compassion Australia office.

Our plan is to have our global partners contribute as frequently as possible to help expand your perspective on who we are and how we work, as well as connecting you with sponsors and donors throughout the world.

Take it away Irene! (more…)

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Early in the morning of June 11, after months of heavy precipitation, the Cedar River poured into the streets of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The water quickly swallowed the city.

• 1,300 city blocks disappeared.
• 24,000 people were evacuated.
• 83 of Iowa’s 99 counties were declared disaster areas.
• Nearly every river in Iowa flooded that week.

As I watched the floodwaters rise, my 4-year-old turned to me and said, “Mama, I think we need to get on the ark!” Had there been an ark in the vicinity, I may very well have gotten on it.

In the end, we Iowans are going to be just fine. The prayers of the nation have been with us, and we thank everyone for that. Help has arrived from all corners — from churches to government agencies. So many people have mobilized to get us back on our feet. We know it will be a slow process but, as a community whose roots are in farming, we have learned to be patient — patient with the growth of our crops, patient with the regrowth of our city.

But the impact of the floods on the world community is yet to come.

Iowa is the number one producer of corn and soybeans in the United States. It is estimated that 1.3 million acres of corn and 2 million acres of soybeans — roughly 16 percent of our grain crops were destroyed. (1) And this disaster is just one of many that decimated global crops in 2008.

So how does this impact the global food supply? In a nutshell, it means higher prices and a shrinking supply of food.

For countries in the developing world, this is a cataclysmic combination. In regions where people are already spending 80 percent of their salaries on food, the prices are going to get higher.

If 100 percent of a family’s income goes toward food, how then do they afford clothing, shelter, medical care and an education for their children?

And when the price of food eclipses what a family is able to earn, who in the family goes without? Parents, grandparents, children? How does one make such a decision?

As Thornton Wilder, the author of Our Town, once said: “I know that every good and excellent thing in the world stands moment by moment on the razor-edge of danger and must be fought for….”

We must stand together in the fight against poverty and hunger.

If you have a heart for flood victims, consider sponsoring a child in Haiti, Mexico, Bangladesh or India. These are countries that experience regular flooding, often with much loss of life, and an infrastructure that makes it difficult for families to recover.

You may also consider a donation to the Disaster Relief Fund. In the event of a natural disaster, Compassion provides food, blankets, shelter and replacement belongings to children and their families.

Please do what you can.

Lisa

(1) Iowa State Farm Bureau

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This is a true story about a young girl in one of Compassion’s child development centers in India.

When you live in extreme poverty, access to clean water is hard to come by, but filthy water seems to make its way to your door with great ease.

Arpita was sitting on her raised bed, getting dressed for the day. While she fussed with the fabric of her frock, she clinched an open safety pin between her teeth. Suddenly, the pin wiggled in her mouth, and Arpita found herself choking. The pin was far enough down that her throat’s natural reaction was to swallow.

The sharp edge of the pin scraped along the inside of her esophagus. Arpita ran to her mother and father to tell them what had happened.

The pin made its way all the way down to her stomach. Arpita’s mother was worried it could do severe damage. She had Arpita drink water. She rubbed her little girl’s tummy. But nothing could make the pain go away. She decided to take Arpita to the hospital.

Arpita’s father went to the Compassion project, asking the pastor to have the children pray. An odd request, considering Arpita’s parents weren’t Christians. But they still believed in the power of prayer.

The children prayed. Fervently. Tears streamed down their little faces as they pleaded for God to rescue their friend and classmate.

Meanwhile, Arpita’s doctor performed an x-ray of Arpita’s stomach. Their worst fears were confirmed. The pin was open … and it had lodged in the lining of her stomach.

Short of a miracle, the doctors were going to have to perform a rather risky surgery to open up Arpita’s stomach and remove the pin.

But our God is the God of miracles.

Watch the video to see how the story plays out.

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I’ve been putting off writing this post. There are some things that are just easier not to think about.

They’re called “throw-aways,” people whom the world has no use for. (more…)

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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.

• 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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I’ve been working at Compassion for eight months, and I dig it. I dig it like Dig ‘Em digs Honey Smacks. There’s good people here, plenty of parking, a fantastic view of Pikes Peak, stellar lunch specials at the New Dehli Café and of course, a job that makes a difference.

Howwwever, I work on a computer. And I tend to work on that computer all day long, with nary a break. I don’t often make it to the café to enjoy my self-serve special for $4.99, and it really is special because I have a hand that serves and serves and serves.

I also frequently forget to take a breath and enjoy the view or even say cheerio to my co-workers. I glue my rear to my seat and my eyes to my monitor and there I stay for the day. Ugh!

And when I’m in this all-work mode, I often lose sight of why I’m working. I only see trees, no forest.

But all throughout the Global Ministry Center hangs artwork created by children in our sponsorship program. It’s amazing artwork, not only because of the talent it illustrates but because it exists.

What if Compassion wasn’t in this child’s life? Would this talent have had an opportunity to develop? Would it be given the chance to enrich other people lives, like it does mine when I scrape my eyes from my computer screen?

Here’s what I’m talking about.

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I was born into privilege. No, I don’t mean the kind of privilege of living with butlers, maids, fancy cars and mansions. I was born into privilege because my family was able to move to the United States when I was a 5-year-old child, and because of that move I was given the privilege of a life that I would not have had in India.  

When our family gets together there is always a story or two told of our childhood in India. When my older brothers talk about our childhood home in Kerala with the lush green plam trees and the rice paddies, their stories seem like make-believe. The smells of the open markets filled with fishmongers and the sounds of the honking cars and buses. In our minds, we often go back to the reality of our dirt-floor home without running water or electricity. Kerosene lamps lit the way down the rocky hill to our home at night after prayer meetings and church services  The place where we learned to catch minnows in the creek with our threadbare towels or the well where our mummy drew water for the day. 

Strange to remember that life and realize that God allowed it to be the place where I spent my early developmental years. It is also an eye-opening experience to think, “there but for the Grace of God, go I.” What a statement when I think of where I am today and where I could have been, had it not been for God’s great provision in my family’s life. When I think of poverty or what its effects are, it has a personal look and feel because I’ve experienced it as the fabric of my life. My family did not have much, but what we did have were parents who believed in God and sacrificed for a better future for us. I know that today I am at Compassion International as an advocate for children because God orchestrated my childhood to be a starting place for me to recognize need and to empathize with children who do not have the same privilege I was born into. 

I was born into privilege, and if you are reading this on your desktop at work or a personal computer at home, then more than likely you were born into privilege also. No, not the “Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous” kind of privilege, but the kind of privilege that we take for granted because we don’t think twice when we turn the knob on a faucet for water or flip a switch for light. Our children are privileged with the requirement and opportunity for an education. We lay claim to the kind of privilege that allows us to walk into clean supermarkets to purchase beautifully packaged foods. We Americans, as a whole, own approximately 40 percent of the world’s wealth but we make up only 2.5 percent of the world’s population. We, my friends are privileged…and with this privilege comes…yes, you’ve guessed it, responsibility. So, as you are looking at these words of mine I have a closing thought. What will you and I do with the responsibility of the privilege we were born into?

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