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Suffer little children

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder who is supposed to look after the little children. Especially now that there are three little girls living at Heavenly Haven. Where I’ve sort of known about their needs before, now more than ever I KNOW about their needs. From shampoo and toothpaste to underwear and socks – the list is endless. More often than not they are too shy to ask or tell us about a need, and we only find out when hair starts to look very stringy and oily, or when a hug reveals a sweaty smell. Bathtime is no longer a luxury that happens on a Sunday, but a daily necessity. Socks are changed daily, instead of once a week.

The children devour everything that is put in front of them – almost as if they believe that there will be no food tomorrow. Everything has to be tasted and experienced. Suddenly there are three meals every day – nourishing, delicious, warm food to fill little tummies. Any day now they will start to realise that this is normal. There will always be food. There will always be hot water for a bath. There will always be shelter and warmth and hugs and love.

How does one convey the gratitude of a child who now sleeps in a bed, instead of on a blanket on the floor? How does one convey the special warmth of a content child’s face, scrubbed clean, hugging a teddy, and listening to a bedtime story before falling asleep?

A box full of children’s clothes arrived yesterday from a helpful sponsor, and I’ve never seen such excitement on children’s faces. Fortunately most of the items fitted one of the three, so suddenly there is a spare t-shirt, or a spare skirt. The ones that didn’t quite fit got passed on to the other haven families with children.

We went to the beach yesterday morning, and everybody pulled on shorts and t-shirts to frolic in the waves.  How I wish that we could take in more children and look after them in a more hands-on manner!

Happiness is a laughing child without a care in the world.

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Blessings and Miracles

As the curtain closes on 2010, I find myself mentally reviewing the year at Heavenly Haven. And wow, what a year! In all the time that I’ve been involved with community projects, this last year was certainly extreme in every way. If we could draw a graph, the ups would be really high, and the downs would be dismally low.

The year started with losing our primary vehicle in January. The result of this was that we had to cancel all our camps and activities during the year, as we had no way of transporting the children. This also affected our training, since many of the adults we train, live more than 25km away from where we are, and have no transport of their own.

As with everything, we had to learn to adapt, and we did this successfully. We trained fewer adults, and ran shorter courses. We focussed on smaller groups of children and built stronger relationships.

The country, in fact the world, was crunching under one of the worst recessions ever. Many projects around us closed their doors. We persisted, and searched for alternate ways to continue with Heavenly Haven. Doom prophets cautioned us against staying open, yet we could not find it in our hearts to shut down. What about all the ground we had gained? What about our credibility with the people with whom we worked? If we also let them down, when would they trust again? What about FAITH?

The miracles started happening. New people took hands with us, and supported when and where they could. Food became more plentiful. Clothing came in for our families. Much-needed warm sheets and blankets took care of the freezing winter.

Today I look back with tears in my eyes. It was worth it. We often went to bed hungry, and so did our families. We often stood shivering out in the cold, feeding soup and bread to grateful children. We went without electricity for days, shutting down the training, because there simply were no funds for electricity. We couldn’t run any of the sewing machines, or the stoves. We were often not able to drive anywhere, because the fuel gauge showed empty. Someone would come and give some money, saying it was for fuel, without us even asking for it!

December is closer to home, and it has brought its own miracles.

We were worried about enough food for the children, and someone heard our call. Non-spoilable food was transported more than a 1000km’s across South Africa – enough to feed all our children for two months!

We were worried about bread and vegetables – a local supermarket gives us enough for our families twice a week, and a local bakery supplies us with bread for the children’s sandwiches.

We were worried about fuel expenses and food content for the Christmas food parcels for our families. Out of the blue, we got a call from a group of bikers who wanted to help. We managed to give the best food parcels ever, abundantly filled with nourishing, delicious food.

A group of people called from a neighbouring town, and hosted an unforgettable Christmas day for one of our groups of children. They received a Christmas message and spent all day having fun on the water. They were surrounded by loving adults who gave them more than they ever received – not only in gifts, but also in love, and in care.

We launched our annual street Christmas party, with not enough toys and no idea of what we were going to do. Halfway through one of our sponsors called from George. He wanted to pop in for a visit, and had a boot full of toys. Could we use it? Exhilarated, we handed out more than enough toys to eager, grateful children.

Do we still worry? Yes, of course. We are, after all, only human. But we’ve learnt a valuable lesson. Whatever the worry, there WILL be a solution. There are people out there who support what we do. There are people out there who want to help. And most importantly – there are people out there who know that together we can and will make a difference.

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EVERYTHING HAPPENS AS AND WHEN IT SHOULD

Today I woke up feeling melancholic. It is a day of farewell to an age. With Natasha’s funeral a couple of hours away, I revisited this blog that I launched with such enthusiasm and optimism last year. I wanted to revisit some of the projects we did as a team. I wanted to remind myself why we do what we do. Despite the failures, despite the pain, I wanted to yet again convince myself that it is all worth it. Changing the life of a single person makes everything else fade to insignificance. But what if the life of the person we were changing died two weeks ago, leaving four children without a mother?

Natasha was part of Heavenly Haven for three years. Her transformation was extraordinary. From a thin stooped woman, with fear in her eyes, she changed to a confident project leader at the haven. It took patience, love, understanding and support. It took convincing her to take out a restraining order against an abusive and alcoholic husband who is now in prison. We saw her eldest, a bright young girl, blossom into a gangly, long-legged teenager. We saw her second child, a boy with Down-syndrome, happily thriving amongst his peers at Carpe Diem in George. We saw her two younger sons change from unresponsive to healthy, active boys. From cowering children, fearful of their own shadows, we saw these kids thrive and become happy, inquisitive youngsters.

See, we work with impoverished families. These people live in desperate conditions. It is hard to describe to someone who has never been cold how much of a difference a single blanket can make. It is hard to describe to someone who has regular meals how a hungry child’s face lights up at the sight of a single dry piece of bread. It is hard to describe to someone who has cupboards full of seasonal clothes what it is like to receive a piece of clothing that is clean and wearable, a pair of shoes that match and fits.

I launched this blog hoping to convey some of the reality of what we encounter every day. Instead it became harder and harder to write as I realised how little difference I was making in creating awareness of our families’ plight. It felt as if I was writing words that disappared into a void, not reaching any hearts and certainly not creating any supporters. I wrote my last blog entry just after our Christmas party in 2010, where we gave out toys and a nourishing meal to over 200 children. It became harder to have something to say, when I didn’t know what to say that would make an impact.

I now realise that I’ve been writing this blog with the wrong expectations. There is no such thing as immediate results. We saw this with our families, with the people who come to the haven. And not every story is a success story. Sometimes people leave the project because change is hard. It is easier to sit back in sack and ashes than to work hard to achieve results. Sometimes people die because of accidents, because of fighting, because of violence. It does not mean the situation is hopeless. There are always the minority in whose lives we create hope.

So now I want to thank everybody who does get involved with what we do. Thank you to every single person who has supported Heavenly Haven over the years. Thank you – because of you we can be the change-agents for our families. We can only create the opportunity. Those who want to, will use it as and when they are ready.

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Are you taking things too personally?

Today I just want to share an excerpt from a newsletter that I received this morning. It made me think… and I hope it makes you think too.

Here’s an updated parable from the ancient Taoist teacher Chuang-Tzu: Imagine that you are floating in a canoe on a slow-moving river, having a Sunday picnic with a friend. Suddenly there is a loud thump on the side of the canoe, and it rolls over. You come up sputtering, and what do you see? Somebody has snuck up on your canoe, flipped it over for a joke, and is laughing at you. How do you feel?

Okay. Now imagine the exact same situation again: the picnic in a canoe, loud thump, dumped into the river, coming up sputtering, and what do you see? A large submerged log has drifted downstream and bumped into your canoe. This time, how do you feel?

The facts are the same in each case: cold and wet, picnic ruined. But when you think you’ve been targeted personally, you probably feel worse. The thing is, most of what bumps into us in life — including emotional reactions from others, traffic jams, illness, or mistreatment at work — is like an impersonal log put in motion by ten thousand causes upstream.

Say a friend is surprisingly critical toward you. It hurts, for sure, and you’ll want to address the situation, from talking about it with the friend to disengaging from the relationship.

But also consider what may have caused that person to bump into you, such as misinterpretations of your actions; health problems, pain, worries or anger about things unrelated to you; temperament, personality, childhood experiences; the effects of culture, economy, or world events; and causes back upstream in time, like how his or her parents were raised.

Recognize the humbling yet wonderful truth: most of the time, we are bit players in other people’s dramas.

When you look at things this way, you naturally get calmer, put situations in context, and don’t get so caught up in me-myself-and-I. Then you feel better, plus more clearheaded about what to do.

How?

To begin with, have compassion for yourself. Getting smacked by a log is a drag. Also take appropriate action. Keep an eye out for logs heading your way, try to reduce their impact, and repair your “boat” — relationship, health, finances, career — as best you can. And maybe think about finding a new river!

Additionally:

1. Notice when you start to take something personally. Be mindful of what that feels like — and also what it feels like to relax the sense of being personally targeted.

2. Be careful about making assumptions about the intentions of others. Maybe they didn’t do it “on purpose.” Or maybe there was one not-so-good purpose aimed at you that was mixed up with a dozen other purposes.

3. Reflect on some of the ten thousand causes upstream. Ask yourself: What else could be in play here? What’s going on inside the other person’s mind and life? What’s the bigger picture?

4. Beware getting caught up in your “case” about other people, driven by an inner prosecutor that keeps pounding on all the ways they’re wrong, spoke badly, acted unfairly, picked on you, really really harmed you, made you suffer, etc., etc. It’s good to see others clearly, and there’s a place for moral judgment — but case-making is a kind of obsessing that makes you feel worse and more likely to overreact and create an even bigger problem.

5. Try to have compassion for the other people. They’re probably not all that happy, either. Having compassion for them will not weaken you or let them off the moral hook; actually, it will make you feel better.

And — really soak up the sense of strength and peacefulness that comes from taking life less personally.

– Rick Hanson (Just One Thing)

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Judgement

You, who walk into my house and comment that it is too big for one person – look past the size and into the heart of a young homeless girl who had to hide in a pipe to shield herself from the rain

You who notice my lights burning at light and scold me for wasting electricity – what do you know of the demons and dust-bugs in the dark that my mother taunted me with as a child

You, who frown at the chaos and clutter in every room, telling me to start throwing away – see every item as a shield against anonymity and the fear of leaving no mark on this world

You who scorn my shelves and shelves of books, all read, mouthing words such as recycle and space – knowledge is the one thing no person has ever been able to take away from me

You who look at my figure with a frown, then tell me I should take care of myself, shed weight and exercise. I’m not prepared to peel off the layers shielding my fragile self from the world

You who question my lack of friends and a social life… look closer, and also notice my lack of a family. Then notice the wall around my heart built with bricks labelled rejection, fear, betrayal and lies

You who see my instinctive avoidance of hugs and bodily contact and perceive this as rejection – I have no experience of hugs and am unable to relax when you’re in my space

You look at the trail of broken relationships in my wake and wonder what happened. I look at a trail of failed attempts to cocoon myself in a nest and now embrace solitude

You who perceive me as curt, haughty and disdainful, with low patience and tolerance – understand that I’ve given up on even attempting to understand people’s thoughts and actions

You who listen to stories and rumours, labelling me and my actions as unacceptable and ask why I choose not to defend… I choose to use my energy elsewhere and not waste it

You who judge my preference of the company of those who are less fortunate…. See the smiles and gratitude when I enter their lives, and the lack of grading me according to what I own

You who see me as unfriendly and antisocial… You are right. I will rather be alone than hurt again.

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the end of the world

Why is it that, just as soon as I find myself ready to kick the day in its teeth, grab it by the horns and mount it to ride towards the sunset at full speed, something happens to steer me off course completely?

I am not a morning person. I am of the firm belief that anything before 7am is fictitious and belongs under the header “conspiracy theories” in my personal filing system. In fact, when the alarm system yanks me firmly by the short and curlies from my peaceful slumber, even then I cling to the belief that it will all go away. There is no time system, there is no clock. There is no schedule, no firm “get up and go”- time.

The point of all this rambling is to really hit home the fact that I take a while to wake up. My brain normally catches up to my body at around 10am, by which time I am ready to go. That is the exact time that all my efforts to get going is sabotaged by the cleaner who starts up the vacuum cleaner. It is impossible to function with a vacuum cleaner running within hearing distance. All my entreaties to shorten vacuum time or to move it to a more convenient time has fallen on deaf ears. The cleaner operates according to a schedule, and, I believe, has a love affair with the vacuum cleaner. She affectionately sucks dust from various surfaces with this infernal noise-maker for hours, whilst simultaneously sucking productivity from my day. I am convinced that the gardener is in on this sabotage. The minute the vacuum cleaner stops, THE VERY MINUTE, is when the lawnmower starts up. Now this is when I dismount the day, let go of its horns, give it a firm slap on its rump and tell it to just carry on without me.

One would think that all this is of course not the end of the world. I suppose I could find another place to work, but, like most humans, I am a creature of habit. I like my familiar space. And one thinks one has all the time in the world to remedy the situation. And yet, according to a large number of individuals and organisations, my time has run out. The end of the world is supposedly in four days.

I am not a huge fan of doomsday sayers. It has been the prophesied end of the world on a number of occassions in the past, and guess what, we’re still here. Plus there are at least four more dates in the next two years that is also firmly believed by other individuals and groups to be the real end of the world. A combination of various historical facts and biblical research is used generously to back up these predictions.

I don’t have all the facts at my disposal. I haven’t spend decades of my life like some of these individuals, hunkered over scrolls and artifacts, to decipher and interpret in order to glean the date that my beloved planet will cease to be. One thing is clear to me though – even if I could have my life over and choose again – I will pretty much relive it the way I have. I couldn’t spend my life searching for the date that mankind dies. If the end of the world is in four days, or next year, or in ten years, or a hundred years, I don’t want to know. I will rather spend my life living it a day at a time – battling with my alarm clock and making the best of the day.