But sometimes, what she tells me really makes me stop and think.  Sometimes it requires me to go read the thing myself.  This was one of those times.  She told me about a blog post that a pastor’s wife had written about fear and facing your fear. (http://www.chattingatthesky.com) She made her point by telling the story of taking her son to the public swimming pool.

I watched my son fly off the low-dive, swim to the ladder, walk fast back to the diving board line and fly off the end of the board again. He doesn’t even think about it.

But that isn’t the case for some. While he made his rounds on the low dive, I noticed a little girl – maybe 8 or 9 – standing at the end of the high dive. She wasn’t jumping.

Instead, she stood there looking around for another way down. She bent her knees like she was preparing, but quickly stood up straight again.

Bend, straighten, repeat.

After a few tries like this, other people began to notice her and it wasn’t long before all eyes were on her. Her dad appeared from the crowd shouting encouragement and waving a thumbs up.

It happens a lot at the pool – some kid gets scared at the top of the high dive and everybody watches from below. Secretly? I kind of love it. I don’t love watching scared kids – I love watching scared kids jump. It never gets old.

Someone started to clap. Soon, everyone was clapping, cheering her on. We could tell she desperately wanted to jump, but I heard her say faintly, “It’s too high.”

She couldn’t do it and slowly climbed backwards down the ladder.

My heart sank for her. But you know what else? My heart sank for me, too. I wanted her to jump. I don’t know this girl personally, but I understand her fear.

Ten minutes later, I saw her climb back up. I nudged John next to me, “Look! There she is again.”

She seemed more determined this time, standing on the edge. She bent her knees same as last time. And again, she straightened back up.

Crouch . . .

Stand.

Crouch . . !

Stand.

The crowd began to clap again, this time with more energy. Several people from across the pool started a countdown – 3 . . 2 . . 1 . . and with one slow motion crouch, she flung herself from the end of the board, arms straight above her.

As she fell, we all whooped and hollered, our collective happiness coming from a genuine excitement for her. I know she heard us before she hit the water.

Here’s the thing: kids jump off that board every 30 seconds and nobody cares. They turn flips and touch their toes and they do it 10 times in a row.

But it isn’t until someone hesitates that the crowd gets involved, even a crowd of strangers.

That story touched me.  Partly because it took me back in time and I remember the fear – so far up in the air, a terribly long fall into water, questioning if I really knew how to swim well enough, and the awkward shame of climbing back down the ladder.  But also because I also remember the exhilaration the first time I actually overcame that paralysis-inducing fear and I jumped.  I jumped, and prayed, and screamed underwater, and delighted in the hugs and hollers from family, friends and strangers.

But mostly because it hit me that a “leap of faith” is so real and so often lost in our modern, busy world.  There’s a reason that complete strangers become engaged and somehow personally vested in that girl jumping off the high dive.  Because we “get it” – and we love to see people overcome fear.  It’s heroic and we want to be a part of it, even if it’s just on the periphery.

And it made me think about a group of women I met in Kenya on one of my last days there.  That morning we drove out to a remote village near the Tanzania border.  While we were talking with a savings group that had been meeting for over a year, we noticed something unusual…one by one, a group of women were coming together under a nearby tree.  They seemed very tentative and unsure of themselves.  It was almost like they were appearing from the trees and bushes, standing on the edge of the clearing and trying to decide if they would step out into the clearing they would have to walk across to get to the others.  It was obvious that difficult and personal decisions were being made right there as to whether or not they would come.  We were desperately trying to focus on the stories that were being told to us by the translator, but if I am completely honest with you, I was mesmerized by what was happening.  I didn’t understand, but I could tell it was a moment.  After a while, I simply couldn’t stand it.  I had to know!

A field officer from our partner organization Fadhili Trust who spoke Masaai, went over to the group of women to find out what was going on.  It turns out that these women had heard about the Village Savings and Loan Association groups we were working with.  They had seen the changes in the lives and livelihoods of others and wanted to learn more.  They decided they weren’t going to wait.  They were going to do whatever it took to get involved.  They were going to “jump.”

By the end of the morning, a new group had been organized and their next meeting scheduled.  We witnessed the spontaneous birth of a new group right before our eyes!  Their bravery was seismic in scope.  It literally changed their world.  Those of us who were there celebrated with them, but what was really incredible was that they didn’t wait for others to clap and encourage…they started clapping and singing and dancing for themselves.  They knew their actions took heroic bravery, and they celebrated themselves and each other.

In the pool, that little girl needed the cheers, the clapping, the involvement of others to take that leap. In Kenya, these women needed you and your involvement.  Your partnership and support through World Relief Canada gave them the courage they needed to be brave.  You might have missed seeing the jump, but the ripple effect will be felt for generations. 

Their leap of faith was heroic, and you were a part of it.  You are a partner in it.  Without you there would have been no jump.

So thank you.

P.S. If you would like to partner with other women as they make a heroic leap in the face of poverty and fear, you can do so here.  Designate your gift to the Cause of “Women” or “Microfinance” and we can cheer as more families find the courage and opportunity to work their way out of poverty.

But now I think of it in completely different terms. November 20^th is the Universal Children’s Day – proclaimed as such by the United Nations general assembly in 1954. To be honest with you I did not even realize there was a "Children’s Day" until a few years ago. Growing up we only really celebrated Mother’s Day and Father’s Day (and all the traditional big holidays supported by Hallmark of course).

I remember asking my parents – every year right before Mother’s Day and Father’s Day – why there was a special day for parents but not one for children. Every year they would cut their eyes at each other, share a private smirk, and tell me that "every day is children’s day". It was never a really satisfactory answer to me, but over time I just came to believe it. I even looked forward to the day my children would ask me the same question, just so that I could use that same answer.

But now I know that while cute and easy, it’s not a complete answer – in fact it’s not even that accurate. Sure, here in North America every day might feel like it’s child centric (especially around this time of the year when Christmas marketing is in full swing). But in many countries around the world, every day is not child centric, rather every day is just another in a long string of days where children are at best an afterthought and at worst the focus of intentional torture and suffering.

For many children, life is tenuous. Every day is a fight for food and shelter with no real hope for security or love. That is why a specific day was set aside for children. Initially it was established to protect children from working long hours in dangerous situations and to allow children access to a basic education. The idea was that countries would promote understanding of and among children, followed by action to benefit and promote the welfare of the world’s children. There was even a hope that this day would allow each of us a chance to reminisce on and celebrate childhood.

In some ways the situation of the world’s children has genuinely improved since the first official Universal Children’s Day, but for too many children it has not. The hard truth is that the children who need a special day the very most are the least likely to even know that the world has set one aside for them. Today will be just another day for them.

But you and I know differently. We can take some time out of our day and consider the plight of those children, and maybe we can even reminisce on our own childhood. For me, I am going to take an extra moment to hug my daughter – probably a little too tightly and a little too long. I want her to know that I love her in all her childishness and that my heart celebrates her and all children. Maybe I will take the time to help her understand that there are children her age around the world whose lives are very different (because she is especially concerned about kids that are the same age as her). I don’t want her to feel guilty about what she has, but I do want her to appreciate that her life is not "normal" in many contexts around the world.

I love that the work you and I and everyone associated with World Relief Canada do impacts children. On days like today I have a special appreciation that together we are intentionally working to do what the old UN declaration aspired to. There’s still a long way to go, and many lives to change. But every day – not just on Children’s Day – you are a part of creating a new future for children.

So take a moment today and say a prayer for the children – yours, mine and all the ones we will never know here on Earth – the ones that God loves. Because He does love the little children, all the children of the world. Thank you for loving them too.

Eric Frans, CFRE

Director of Philanthropy

Summertime is coming.  My daughter is already talking about the end of school.  The official countdown has begun and she is starting to list all the things she wants us to do this summer as a family.  She wants to go horseback riding, she wants to go hiking in the hills, she wants to picnic in the park, she wants to bike ride around the neighborhood, and now that she has finally become proficient in swimming, she wants to go swimming in the old water hole that is near her godparents’ cabin back in BC.

She loves that place.  It’s where she’s seen me swim on those long hot afternoons of summer, and it’s where her godfather and I have gone to rinse off the day after building the cabin.  “Bathing in the river” is what she always called it.  And she loved it.  I never really gave it much thought until Richard, one of our International Project officers returned from a trip to Liberia.  You might wonder how his trip to Liberia, Africa could possibly have made me stop and think about a swimming hole in British Columbia.  Let me tell you!

Richard came back from visiting an emergency feeding program we had been funding in Liberia.  This program was to help refugees who had fled the fighting in Cote D’Ivoire last year.  While there he learned the story of Julie.  Julie is a wife and mother of three beautiful young children ages 12, 6 and 3.  It was a hot summer day in Cote D’Ivoire when Julie took her three-year-old daughter to the river for a bath – not an uncommon thing for her to do.  Her husband and other children were back in the village.  It was a normal summer day – hot and clear with incredible blue skies that stretched for miles and she was carefully bathing her baby girl in the water, when suddenly gunfire ripped through the air, destroying the idyllic afternoon she had been enjoying.  Terror gripped the people and she found herself caught in a sea of people running away in unbridled terror.  Julie did not know who was fighting or who the targets were, but she knew that staying there was risking death for her and her daughter.  She picked up her daughter and began to run.  She looked around and realized she was surrounded by a flood of people: children, parents and the elderly all fleeing for safety in some unknown place ahead.  Julie found herself faced with an impossible choice: risk the life of her baby in her arms by going back to look for her husband and two other children – even though there was no way to know if they had also fled, or go on – ensuring her and her baby’s safety and suffering from the fear and pain of the unknown regarding the rest of her family.

Praying her older children and husband we somewhere amongst the throngs of refugees headed for the border, she continued to run not really knowing where she would be able to stop.  Two days later she arrived in Liberia with hundreds and thousands of other refugees who had left everything and simply run.  Julie heard that the UN High Commission for Refugees was working with the Association of Liberian Evangelicals (a partner of World Relief Canada) to provide emergency food rations to those who had been caught up in the violence.  While registering for assistance at the refugee camp, Julie saw a woman drawing water from a well.  That woman had a young child with her.  Julie knew in her heart what a mother simply knows but couldn’t believe her eyes.  The boy looked up, saw her, and broke into a run towards her.  With tears streaming down both of their faces, mother and son were reunited.  Her 6 year old boy had been lost and now was found.  

It turned out that this other lady had also been fleeing, and she had seen this small boy alone and confused.  A mother herself, she knew that he would never survive alone in that situation, and so she took his hand and walked with him into the unknown – providing him with some small emotional sanctuary as he tried to understand what was going on and where his mommy and daddy had gone.  For 2 weeks, she had kept him safe with her until by the grace of God they crossed paths with his mother.

As of the time of that story making its way back here, Julie still had no word on the whereabouts of her oldest son or her husband.  She continues to pray for their safety and that the family will be reunited, but she is terrified to return home as it is still not safe.

This summer, Riley and I will go to the swimming hole at the river and we will splash and swim and “bathe in the river”.  But you can be sure that all the while I will never forget Julie and the afternoon she spent bathing her daughter in the river and how her life was turned upside down.  While I am at the river, I will laugh with my daughter, but a part of me will continue to cry with Julie.

The work, that you are such an important part of, done by and through World Relief Canada is important.  You really are touching lives.  Thanks to you many many families had enough nutrition to survive the sudden shock of being violently displaced in West Africa; but it is because we were there that families and moms like Julie didn’t just find hope – they found their children.

Thank you for partnering with us, and with Julie.

If you want to help mothers like Julie you can give online today by clicking here.  Simply designate your gift to “Women” and you can be sure that you are making a difference in the lives of mothers and daughters around the world.

Eric Frans, CFRE
Director of Philanthropy

On the way there, my wife and I were talking about the fact that it was Palm Sunday and what that means and the historical and theological significance of this fact.  (The conversation wasn’t anywhere near as high-brow as that last sentence made it seem to be honest with you, but we were talking about Palm Sunday.)  Meanwhile, my 7 year old daughter was trying her best to play “tricks” on us because it was April Fool’s Day.  Her efforts were comical at best, but she kept trying to make us believe that she had seen a robot on a bicycle next to us on the 407 so we would look and she would scream “APRIL FOOL’S” and collapse in maniacal laughter.

The dichotomy of the scenario made me stop and think.  Easter is hard to pin down on the calendar each year, but April 1^st is consistent.  And though according to Google April Fool’s Day didn’t really start until the 1500s, I nonetheless thought back to the actual Palm Sunday and wondered if it must have felt like the first April Fool’s Day to Jesus.

On that Sunday everyone came out and lined the streets with palm fronds and garments of clothing.  They sang out Psalms like 118:25 “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”  And this is referred to as His triumphal entry into Jerusalem.

But it is less than a week later that Jesus is arrested, abused and hung on a cross – and those same people are nowhere to be found.  Even Peter disavows Him.  Talk about the ultimate April Fool.  The people celebrate His coming and then when the heat comes, it’s “just kidding, we don’t really think He is a king…”

I’d judge these historical people en masse except the parallels in my own life are too convicting, so I’ll just move on with this story.

Jesus’ coming and willingness to die on a cross was the ultimate expression of love.  He saw the state of our lives (and our souls) and said, “I love them too much to let this remain the same.”  He saw our poverty.  He saw our shame.  He understood our lives had become consumed with arrogance and hedonism and that we lacked compassion and peace.  And into that cesspool of humanity He waded.  There was no joke, no punch line and no “gotcha” in His actions.  He simply loved.

I have no idea if it even happened in the month of April, but I the one thing I am certain of is that we were the fools.  We abandoned Him and hung Him on a cross.  And still He loved us.  Still He loves us.

My deepest desire during this “Holy Week” leading up to Easter Sunday, is that we begin to fully understand the love He showed us.  He gave up everything for us.  It makes me reflect on my own understanding and my own actions – what have I ever given up for anyone? My prayer for me this week (and going forward) is that I begin to have an answer to that question.  And that it is a living answer, continuously growing and expanding.

And since we’re talking about prayer, this seems like a good time to remind everyone that April 11^th is World Relief Canada’s Day of Prayer.  You might have seen reference to this date in the last mailer you received from us.  But in case you didn’t, allow me to explain.  Our Day of Prayer is not about how we can pray for the world and those suffering in it – especially those we work with.  Don’t get me wrong, we pray for them every day.  But this Day of Prayer is about you.

How can we pray for you?  Our gift to you – our amazing and generous supporters and friends – is this day of intentional prayer.  We are going to pray for you by name, but we want to know how we can do it specifically.  How can we pray for you?  We are going before the throne room of God to lift you up to Him with love and thankfulness.  Is there something specific you would like us to mention?  You can write it down on the response device in the mailer, or you can email us, or you can call us.  But let us know and you can be certain that you will be prayed for.  We will be praying together in agreement here at World Relief Canada.  Let us pray for you on April 11^th.

Eric Frans, CFRE

Director of Philanthropy

worldrelief@wrcanada.org

1-800-567-8190

I wanted to share something today that I heard just this morning as I walked into work.  I passed a group of folks talking about leap year and as I went by one of them made the comment that they were all working for free today.  It took me a moment to catch what she was saying, but I realized that technically speaking it was true.  If you are a salaried employee, then you are donating your time to the company today.  You get paid the same this year as you did last year, and yet you will have worked an extra day – for free.

Now, before you get too upset, my intent is not to stir the proverbial pot.  Employers, please forgive me if I inadvertently became the catalyst for a small uprising in your office.  My point with this is to make us all stop for a moment and think about what we could do with an extra day.

Many of us decry how we never seem to have “enough” time.  There seems to always be more that needs done than there is time to do it.  But what if we were given an extra day?  A “free day” as my daughter called it.  “It cost us nothing, and we got a whole extra day!” was how she described it to me this morning over breakfast.

I must admit that this was a completely different way of looking at the day than I personally had been doing.  But there it is.  We have been given an extra day.  What are you going to do with it?  This is an incredibly valuable resource that only comes around every four years.  I think it deserves some thought and intentionality.  What are you going to do to make the world a better place with the extra day you have been granted in 2012?

I asked some of my friends this question, and I was surprised with some of the answers.  After getting a lot of “I don’t know” responses, I had one friend tell me that she was going to declare this to be EXTRA day – and give everyone extra. But only the good things: extra hugs, extra games, extra ice cream, extra Wii time.  (I am sure her children were especially thrilled with the ice cream and Wii time.)  Another friend become more contemplative and said, “If I am working for free this day anyway, than I am going to take it a step further and donate one day’s salary to my favorite charity.”

You can be sure that his comment stood out to me, but I am not here to be pushy…

I am asking this question of you too, and honestly I would love to know if you have ever thought of LEAP YEAR in these terms before.  And if you do take a moment and think about it as an extra day, then what specifically are you going to do to take advantage of this amazing gift?

Let me know!  Talk with your friends, coworkers and family, and tell me what their answers are too.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Eric Frans, CFRE

Director of Philathropy

efrans@wrcanada.org

Growing up in Texas, sometimes how I see things are just cultural DNA leftovers – like my illogical affection for pick-up trucks (which my wife will never let me own), my love for the Dallas Cowboys and my belief that I am my mother’s favourite child.  Make no mistake, my brother also believes that he is the favourite.  He’s wrong of course, but it is the crux of a lifelong argument we’ve had.  His perspective is that as the oldest, he has been loved the longest and with the first of a mother’s love.  I will concede his point, but respond with the inherently obvious fact that if he had been that great, they wouldn’t have needed to try and do better.  And as I am the last child, I must have been as close to perfect as they figured they would get.

My mother refuses to engage in the debate other than with the politically correct comment that she loves us both.  (But when she says it, I know she’s winking at me.) 

That being said, I wanted to be honest with y’all.  I love everyone who supports World Relief Canada and the life changing work we do around the world.  But I love some of you more than others…

I know.  That’s borderline scandalous, and possibly job threatening to admit.  But hear me out on this.  I think you might understand, if not even agree with me by the end.

Yesterday I got a phone call from a very close friend.  We met through our kids.  His daughter is the same age as mine and the two girls were in skating lessons together when we first moved to Markham.  He called to tell me a story.  On Friday night they had been out to a Christmas party and had gotten home late.  The next day it quickly became apparent that the girls had not gotten enough sleep the night before.  (If you are a parent, then you will immediately understand that and the probable behavioural indicators that let us know when this is true.)  This being the case, he sent them both to take a nap (or at least have quiet time in their rooms).  The youngest girl fell asleep immediately, but the older girl (who is 7) didn’t quite get to sleep.  In fact, after a little while, she decided to sneak out of her room and go to the basement – where their playroom is.  Surreptitiously, she tiptoed down the stairs, across the hall to the basement door, painstakingly opened  and closed it, and went into the playroom completely unaware that her parents were watching her do this.

They thought about calling her on it as she came down stairs, but decided to wait and “catch her” in the act of playing with her toys during the prescribed “quiet time”.  After a few minutes, my friend opened the door and crept down the basement stairs in order to catch his daughter.  When he reached the bottom he expected to find toys strewn about the room, but instead found her lying on her stomach hard at work.  As he looked around he saw her piggybank lying on its side – open.  Then he saw wrapping paper, tape and plastic bags around her.  Finally his curiosity got the best of him and he called her name. 

She turned around immediately with a look of terror at being “caught” out of her room.  He saw that she had placed all of her money in a ziplock bag and was trying to wrap it in Christmas paper.  He asked her what she was doing – all thought of discipline being completely wiped away by his surprise.  In fact, he started to feel guilty that he had interrupted something that seemed to be incredibly important to her.

Sheepishly, she answered that she was wrapping a present.  “All your money you’ve been saving?” he asked.  She nodded her head.

He let that hang for a moment trying to understand through the perspective of a 7 year old, and then, giving up, he said, “who are you giving it to?”

He was completely unprepared for the response that awaited him.  With eyes that held innocence and compassion, his daughter looked at him directly and said, “to people who don’t have anything.”

Lucas called me after he had regained his composure and asked if I could come have a conversation with his daughter as she wanted to make a donation to World Relief Canada.  Suffice it to say that I said yes.

It’s not the size of her gift that will make the biggest impact.  It’s the size of her heart that will change all of us.

And so, right now, at this moment, while I love all of you equally.  Keira is my favourite.

(But know when I say it, I am winking at you.)

May you know the spirit of Christmas this year like little Keira does.  And may God bless you and your family like Keira has blessed us.

Eric Frans, CFRE

Director of Fund Development

We had the opportunity to engage in the family traditions of others, and to introduce people to some of ours as well.  One of the most meaningful ones is going around the table and speaking aloud some of the things each person is thankful for.

One of the dinners we were invited to had quite a few children at the table – all of them under the age of 8.  The “I am thankful” statements were endearing as they were profound.  I don’t think anything was left out of the overall list.  My daughter made note of the fact that after a few rounds of this no one had bothered to be thankful for our dog, and so she took it upon herself to tell God how thankful she is for her friend, the family dog.  But she was sincere and heartfelt.  For me, seeing and hearing my little girl tell Jesus how thankful she is for her bed and her house, her family and even her dog is about the greatest feeling in the world. 

I don’t know if your family has a similar tradition, but there is something powerful about speaking out thankfulness.  My wife and I “encourage” one another to be thankful for the little things that we do for each other.  If (or when) I forget, I am gently reminded.  For instance, I came home one day from work fairly late and still focusing on the things I hadn’t gotten done at the office.  I walked in and missed the fact that my wife – as a gift to me – had completely tidied and cleaned the downstairs, which was my job to do.  As I sat down at the table to have dinner with the family, my wife gently smiled at me, tilted her head towards the immaculate living room and said, “I will probably be very encouraged when you notice the work I did for you.”  At that point my daughter perked up and said, “Praise your wifey daddy!”

I think God enjoys our praise and thankfulness – especially when we do it collectively and out loud as a family.  It’s simple, but it is powerful.  I honestly believe that God derives great pleasure from our thankfulness.  He loves hearing us and hearing from us.

In case you hadn’t seen or heard yet, our “What’s Your Cause?” campaign, is all about that.  The premise we built on is the fact that we are all created in the image of God.  Each of us mirrors a piece of the creator and His love, care and compassion, and we were meant to care about something.    The purpose of the question “What’s Your Cause?” is to get us to look at ourselves and how God designed us, and to work out with God what it is that you deeply and truly care about.

There are so many things in the world that need attention and require help.  But none of us can do everything – it’s simply overwhelming.  However, if we take the time to stop and consider, the things we care about most will rise up in us, and God will reach down and break your heart for what breaks His.  In that moment, the answer to the question “What’s Your Cause?” will become crystal clear.  You will know.

Be sure, that you can care about many things.  In fact, your cause may change over time as you change.  I know for me, my cause now as a husband and father is very different from what my cause was as a single 20something.  Neither is bad or even better than the other, but the things that God has me focus on has changed.

I want to be clear that our purpose in this campaign is not to influence people into choosing World Relief Canada as their “cause”; rather it is to help people have the conversation with themselves and with God.  Ask the question.  Talk with your friends and family too.  We want you to know your cause – even if it isn’t us!

Often the answer is around us all the time.  It’s inherent in our lives already, we just haven’t formalized it.  But, just as there is something powerful in speaking out what we are thankful for, there is power in declaring our cause.  It will help you cut through the white noise of life and the constant clamouring for attention from the world.  Hear the still small voice of God – He designed you.  He knows your cause.  And He delights in your finding it and engaging with it.

There is some dispute as to who originally said the following, but there is no doubt as to the accuracy of it: Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed individuals can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

It starts with answering the question, “What’s Your Cause?”  Together with you, World Relief Canada has been changing the world, and we will continue to do so – one family, one village at a time.

If you would like more information on how to talk with your family, your small group, your company or others about finding your (and their) cause, you can contact us at worldrelief@wrcanada.org or you can go directly to our website www.wrcanada.org/wyc  We have posters and interactive stickers; conversation starters for children, young adults and adults; and brochures that explain the process. They are our gift to you.

This year, I added to my standard list of things I am thankful for.  I am still thankful for my amazing wife and inspiring daughter; I am thankful for a roof over my head and food in my cupboard.  But this year, I am thankful for the chance to teach my daughter (and myself) the importance of knowing “my cause”.  Talking through it with her helped me know myself a little better and helped me understand her a lot better – and hopefully vice versa.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Eric Frans, CFRE

I got a call at my office on my cell phone from my daughter’s school, telling me that she had come to the office for a second time today complaining of an ear ache.  I immediately packed up my laptop, got into my car and drove to the school to pick her up and take her to a walk-in clinic staffed by a university-degreed medical doctor.  There the doctor pulled an otoscope off the wall and looked into her ears.  He was able to make a sure diagnosis of an ear infection and immediately wrote a prescription for antibiotics (flavoured for children) that we walked across the street to the neighbourhood pharmacy where it was filled in less than 5 minutes for a total cost of $3.99 thanks to health care and extended medical.  We then drove to our house where my daughter changed into another set of clothes (pyjamas) and climbed into her own bed, pulled the covers and blankets up and drank a glass of orange juice before watching a DVD on her personal DVD player.

I wondered how someone from one of the countries where we work might handle the same situation.  There are a couple of things I can be absolutely certain would be the same.  They could have a daughter and she could get an ear infection…

After that, the comparison breaks down completely.  There is no guarantee that they would have a job, much less an office.  Cell phones would be completely out of the question.  Schooling is hit or miss for many families – and daughters being educated is even more rare.  A personal computer of any kind is out of reach for most people living on less than $2/day – as is owning a car or even knowing how to drive.  Medical clinics can be 2-3 days walk away from villages and even then the level of expertise is variable depending on the nature of the clinic.  Often times these clinics are poorly funded and instruments past stethoscopes and tongue depressors are luxuries.  Diagnosis can be best guesses and even if you do get a correct diagnosis, there is no guarantee that the proper medicine is available to treat the issue.  And the cost of obtaining the medicine would most likely be prohibitive anyway.  A girl child with an ear infection would probably have to continue doing her daily chores – walking miles to bring water to the family, cooking, gathering firewood, etc, until the pain became so great that it affected her equilibrium.  Then she would be put on a mat in the corner to recuperate – given occasional drinks of water to cool her burning fever (though the water could easily be contaminated and might cause dysentery).

By the time I picked up my daughter I was so overcome with emotion that I scooped her up and held her for a very long time.  She assumed that I was just concerned that her ear hurt, but it was my heart that hurt far more.

Sometimes we are given a chance to see just how lucky we are – if we can pause long enough to not miss it.

If you took the time to make a list, how many things have you taken for granted today?  Take a moment and thank God for them – or take a lot of moments, depending on how many there are…

One thing we never take for granted at World Relief Canada is you – our friends and supporters who care about the work we do and the people we help.  I took some time today to say a quick prayer of thanks for you, but thought I ought to say thanks to you personally as well!

So, THANK YOU!

Eric Frans, CFRE

Director of Fund Development

Even this weekend, I had a friend comment that just watching the news makes him feel callous.  He looked me right in the eyes and said, “Be honest with me.  Is it easier for you to just think of these things in terms of numbers and statistics?”

I had to think about that for a minute.  I suppose it would be easier to think of the people we help simply as “beneficiaries” and to keep focused on the percentages and figures on a page.  It would be simpler to de-humanize the people who are affected and afflicted around the world by just talking about the issues themselves.  Hunger is easier to focus on than a specific person who is starving to death.  It is much easier to think about Poverty as a concept rather than feeling the heartbreak of a child who is forced into prostitution because of it.  And, if I am being honest, there are times when I do find myself looking at the “big picture” just so I can escape the emotional pain of individual portraits.

But that shell I retreat into is usually shattered every day – the moment I walk through my front door and my 6-year old daughter launches herself into my arms with gales of laughter and squeals of “daddy’s home!”  You see, she is who I think of when I talk about our projects in Africa and Asia.  It is her face I see when I think of children in poverty.  When I know there are parents who wake up each day and have to tell their children that there is nothing to eat today, I imagine how I would feel if I had to say that to her.  As I walk her to school each day, I consider all the children who won’t be educated because they have to work, or because they are too sick to attend or they simply don’t have the money to afford basic needs – much less a “luxury” like education.

She has become my anchor, my lens and my portrait.  She grounds me, focuses me and makes me see the individuals rather than just the issues.

For instance, it was just a couple of months ago that conflict broke out in Ivory Coast on the west coast of Africa.  This region is no stranger to bloodshed and violence – close neighbours Sierra Leone and Liberia have emerged from civil wars in the last decades that killed untold numbers of men, women and children.  And it appeared that Ivory Coast was descending into similar violence and chaos.  When the fighting began, thousands and thousands of families began fleeing their homes for safety.  Neighbouring Liberia was inundated with people who had left everything and ran.  Refugees piled in faster than we could imagine – men, women and children looking for a place to rest and be safe.

As people poured across the border, there were no refugee camps waiting - there was no place for them and no materials with which to construct them.  It would be weeks before they could be set up.  But the Liberians understood their plight.  It was not that long ago that they had fled their homes and land – many of them into the safety of Ivory Coast.  They saw themselves in the faces of these families.  And they did what they had to – they opened up their homes and took in these refugees.  They invited them in and did what they could to help.

And while that alone is admirable, there is something more to this that you should know.  Liberia is a very poor country.  It is considered “food insecure”.  More than half the population of Liberia goes to sleep hungry every night.  They don’t have enough food for themselves – and yet they willingly shared with those who had nothing.  Simply put, the hungry were feeding the starving.

When I heard this, I had to ask myself, “if I could barely feed my daughter – my only child – would I take food away from her to help someone else?”  I know what I want to think I would do.  But these Liberian families know for sure what they would do – because they did it.  Meal after meal.  Day after day.  Week after week.  They shared with others from their “not enough”.

It didn’t take long for World Relief Canada and our partners – the Canadian Food Grains Bank, Tearfund UK and the Association of Evangelicals of Liberia – to take action to help out, and very quickly the Ivorian Refugees Assistance Project was born.

Just last week we received word that the first round of food distribution was completed and almost 270 metric tons of food was distributed to families in need.  The food was distributed both to Ivorian refugees as well as Liberian families who had so generously given that they too were dealing with acute hunger.  5,500 families were supplied with food staples to ensure they would have the necessary nutrition.  Over 3,700 of those were refugee families and some 1,700 were Liberian families whose communities were caring for the desperate Ivorians.

This food distribution is a good start to dealing with the situation.  In fact, words cannot adequately describe the appreciation and thanks conveyed by the mothers and fathers whose children now have enough food to eat.  However, this is not the end of the need.  We will continue to work with these families to ensure they have food to eat for at least another three month period.  Enough time for the families from Ivory Coast to be sure that it is safe to return to their homes and livelihoods.  And sufficient food to ensure that the communities hosting them also have enough to eat while they are there.

Last week, my daughter came home from school telling us she was “starving”.  I asked her if she had eaten her lunch.  She said yes, but it wasn’t enough because one of her friends had forgotten to bring a lunch and she had to share hers.  At that moment I was both proud and heartbroken.  Proud that my daughter had stepped up and shared what she had with someone in need, and heartbroken to realize that too many people understand the reality of starvation in our world.

This month, we sent out a letter explaining more about Liberia and some of the other food projects that we have going on there.  If you haven’t received in, you can read it on our website here.  There are too many people hungry in this world.  Too many parents having to comfort a child whose cries are the result of hunger pain.  And yet, these same people willing share with those who have less.  The hungry are feeding the starving.

Tonight my daughter and I are going to have a long conversation about how blessed we are to live in a country like Canada.  Tonight, I am going to look into her eyes and thank God for two things: that she is willing to share what she has, and that she doesn’t have to starve to do it.

Eric Frans, CFRE

Compared to “other Americans”, Evangelicals stood out in their opinions on military spending. Evangelicals were more likely to favour an increase in defence spending (45 percent) compared to non-evangelicals (28 percent). They also stood in stark contrast on the issue of education. When asked about education funding in general, 68 percent of non-evangelicals support increased spending compared to only 35 percent of evangelicals. If I am going to be honest, then I have to admit that neither of these things shocked me. I was raised in the buckle of the Bible Belt down in Texas and I imagine that if I had continued to live there, then I might have said the same thing if asked. They have reasons for their point of view, which are valid to them and I respect differing opinions. I also understand that a point of view is simply a view from a point, and as I have lived around the world, the point of my view has changed.

I confess that I am often overwhelmed by the plethora of good and honest causes that call out in dire need for supporters.  Because donations were once made to the Cancer Society in lieu of flowers at a family funeral, I am on every list of every cancer related drive that comes to our area.  Similar donations in the names of deceased friends and relatives who requested a particular charity or ministry be remembered also keep me well-informed of need. Long after the donation is processed, I remain on these lists too. Now in the midst of worldwide economic struggles, natural disasters, and tragedies far and wide, I am inundated by causes that legitimately cry out for help, calling me to see the world through the eyes of a child, a recovering drug addict, a victim of sex-trafficking, illness, or earthquake. Whatever your belief-system or creed, the haunting crescendo of heartfelt cries is never easily met with a deaf ear. There is so much need. 

“When the foundations are being destroyed,” cried the psalmist, “what can the righteous do?” (Psalm 11:3). When need is deep and poverty unplumbed, when hopelessness seems one long, uninterrupted lament — from screams of natural disaster and tears of economic disaster to the silenced cries of injustice across the world — what can I do? When the decision to support one cause is a decision against supporting another, when money can only go so far and can hardly touch the depths of the issues around us, we can become not only paralyzed to make the decision, but inclined to take a large step away from all of it. And I, for one, often euphemize my mental retreat to the one asking for support: “Not at this time,” “I'll think about it,” or even worse, “Let me pray about it.” For behind my words is too often a manifestation of indifference “Wait” almost always means “never.”

In his letter from a Birmingham jail, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. responded to fellow American clergy who were asking him to wait for a better time to pursue the cause of justice in the South. “Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, ‘Wait,’” he wrote. “But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, brutalize and even kill with impunity your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society… when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of ‘nobodiness’ — then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.” ⁽¹⁾ To call for those suffering to wait is to institutionalize our apathy.

Though at times unconsciously taken, our steps away from the center of the world's pain to a place where we can clear our heads and find perspective are invariably steps toward putting it out of our heads. Requesting time to think, we are requesting time itself to stop. We are asking those with urgent needs to pause for the sake of our own relief. We ask those affected by injustice and hunger, darkness and pain, racism and religious persecution to cover their faces in nobodiness while we step away from it all.  But as Dr. King observed prophetically, “Justice too long delayed is justice denied.’”

When Jesus said that we would always have the poor with us, he did not say it with the despair of one who looks around and sees how vast is the need and poverty of a hurting world. He did not say it with apathy or indifference, needing time to step away or find perspective. On the contrary, he said it knowing every face in the immense crowd of nobodiness, knowing every name we would try not to learn when the pain of others becomes unbearable. He said it living in time where tears are real, yet conscious of eternity when tears will be no more, showing us the mindset he longs for us to hold: a non-answer is very clearly an answer. “Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me,” he said plainly.

The cries of the oppressed and brokenhearted will continue to resound though many of us sit in comfortable apathy and languid affluence. And the call of Christ can be heard in the midst of it all, urging us to set aside all that entangles and follow after him and into the heart of it. The poor and the downcast will indeed always be with us, and where we will allow ourselves to see, it will be overwhelming. They need justice, they need mercy, and they need our time — even as Jesus seems to tell us that it is we who are most in need of them. When he told the crowds that the poor would always be near, he said it as if it were a promise that he, too, would be near. He made the comment knowing that throughout most of history the Son of God would not be with us in the flesh. But in the cup of cold water delivered to the thirsty, in the reaching out to the downtrodden and oppressed, he is indeed there among us. He is both the hand extended to the one hurting and the eyes of the one in need — destroying the notion of nobodiness two faces at a time.

⁽¹⁾ Martin Luther King, Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther (New York:HarperCollins, 1991), 292.

A CBC News report wrote, “But that milestone is secondary to the intense interest in the piece by the public and emotions it evoked in many of the people who participated.” The article goes on to say,

“Abramovic herself was surprised at what she saw when she looked into people's eyes. ‘So much pain and so much loneliness. People have these incredible emotions and I give them the space to express them,’ she said. Many of those who sat opposite her cried. Although the experience took place in a public gallery, with many others watching, ‘after a while they really meet my gaze and the whole world disappears,’ she said.”

The artist commented that it appeared that the reactions and emotions from those who sat across from her revealed many different reasons for their reactions, but that for many the experience was profound.

The importance of eye contact is stressed in a number of areas such as public speaking, counseling, relationship building and even negotiating. But let me try to summarize what I think I heard from the artist although the observation flows into my own thoughts on the subject. The experience moved from ‘glance’ or ‘contact’ to what might be termed ‘connection’. For some this meant first looking away before coming back to the more intense and prolonged encounter. But it’s not hard to imagine that this began to move to the belief that someone was interested, cared or even simply was there for you. Our day to day contacts are so brief; our world has become full of sound bytes; our individualism often isolates us; we find it hard to listen intently to anyone for more than seconds without glancing at our Blackberries (or IPhones) and yet we remain part of a human race that craves relationship and community. I believe the need goes well beyond the lonely and damaged people that have had significant difficult experiences and touches all of us.

There may not be a special magic in our retina but it takes a kind of commitment to look someone in the eye and then keep that focus. The look takes on depth and what might be termed a soul connection. There seems to become a flow of empathy, caring, sharing of burden, a release from the loneliness of shouldering the load by yourself.

This artist’s performance took me back many years to when I had occasion to sing and speak at an evening service at the Harbour Light Mission in Toronto. Two things struck me as they closed the service. The first was that my audience was compelled to be there. They had to come into the service to be able to go to supper after. The second was that from experience I knew that many of these men knew the gospel story and Bible at least as well as I did. The only thing I felt I could do was reach out as they passed by on their way to eat, shake hands and say hi or maybe God Bless you. Knowing that they wouldn’t stop to chat I prayed that they would see the love of Christ and His compassion in my eyes in that brief encounter. One young guy seemed to feel that connection and I gave him my phone number and he later called me at a desperate point in his life. But that’s another story.

If we are to bring peace, minister to, or even just escape our own loneliness in the middle of a texting world of social media we need to find a way to link our souls with the souls of others. We need to move from a simple glance at a person passing by to gazing into their eyes and on into their heart.

Recently, I was one of those "stuck" in Europe due to volcanic ash and flight interruptions. I was “forced” to spend a couple of extra days sightseeing in Bratislava and Vienna, eat well and sleep in a nice, clean hotel.

Personally, I don’t believe I’m that affected by this. I suppose it’s because I am a more visual or experiential person. For me to be refreshed the sun needs to shine or spring needs to arrive. I can be driving in a snowstorm, have the sun break through and find not only my mood change but even my outlook on life will turn more hopeful and optimistic.

The changing of the date for me is simply technical and provides no real evidence of change, whereas the sun and changing seasons provide some physical evidence to my sensory perception that somehow my feeble brain interprets as hope or at least the possibility of positive change to come.

For those of you who find the rolling over to a new year a stimulus for hope it probably is largely due to fundamentals of western society that form a backdrop to our lives. Education, assistance programs, mobility, rest and relaxation, employment opportunities (yes even in challenging times), financial assistance, health programs etc. etc. all are foundational to the hope that comes from the new year.      

However, a significant number of people in our world have no such resources. There is nothing available in any of their senses or knowledge that gives rise to hope for the coming new year. If anything the heartbreaks and challenges of 2010 will drive them deeper towards despair.

As I write this, my hope arising for 2010 comes from my belief that more of us are forming a better perspective on poverty with a new level of responsibility and that our priorities are slowly changing.

Laurie Cook,
C.E.O., World Relief Canada