Guatemala Giving... Phase II

 

A message to our Guatemala Adoption Community on this Giving Tuesday…

16.5. That’s how old our son is now. He’s a junior in high school, thinking about his future and what the world will hold for him as he soon launches into adulthood. Guatemala is part of his identity, but it plays a smaller role than I thought it would. Recently, when given the opportunity to share funds with a non-profit of his choice, he selected an agency that fights childhood cancer rather than a Guatemalan NGO. I was both disappointed and proud in that moment, realizing that it was my mistake to have assumed he would choose Guatemala and that his choice was a sign not only of his understanding of the scope of needs within the universe but also of his agency in selecting the one that spoke to his heart.

Entering Phase II…

Perhaps you’re like us? Shortly after our son had joined our family and begun to take his first steps, we felt called to “give back” to his country of birth. I’m not sure now whether we were motivated by generosity, guilt, or the desire to create visible ties to his culture, but we were successful in identifying a non-profit that gave us all the good feels, and we have supported that same organization for well more than a decade. But now what?

Guatemala has experienced an enormous influx of financial support from our adoption community for the past 20 years but, as our children are growing, many of us are feeling less connected, less motivated, and less passionate about our stewardship, especially when our Guatemalan born children seem indifferent. I share these thoughts today, hoping to inspire a shift in our collective thinking to the next phase of supporting the country that helped build so many families.

Unrestricted Giving…

When our son was a little boy, we were intrigued by the notion of supporting specific indigenous children through educational sponsorship, food aid, and gifts. Over the years, we sent both funds and care packages to these children and their families, and we were rewarded with photos and letters of thanks. We built such close ties that we traveled to Guatemala on many occasions to visit and distribute gifts, much like a fairy godmother would do. I was, in fact, called “madrina” (godmother) on many occasions, even by elderly women who deserved far more respect than I did.

It is in this hallowed year of 2020, where terms like dignity and privilege and equity and agency have taken on a greater depth of meaning, that I reflect upon our past giving patterns and make the very deliberate switch to unrestricted giving in the future.

I know that I have a good heart and that I act with the best of intentions, but – somewhere along the journey – my ego got the best of me and I imposed my own wishes upon the fellow humans that I had pledged to support. I “lifted them up” with the things that I thought they needed… the things that I assumed would make their lives brighter. At times, I was offered a menu of gift choices, and I made my selection as if I was ordering ice cream cones for my kids at the scoop shop window, speaking on their behalf.

In their book, “Doing Good… Says Who?” my friends and authors Connie Newton and the late, great Fran Early share a quote from a local Mayan woman whom they interviewed for their research. She said with such profound grace, “Just because I have less, does not mean that I am less.” I fear that, through my directed giving, I may have made people feel marginalized. That through my picture taking and story-telling, I may have stripped them of their dignity. That I was so lost in being a madrina, that I never saw myself as a peer.

Becoming the sail…

Although things look different now from my rearview mirror, I will always be thankful for the opportunity to have helped sponsored children, families and elders over the years. But now I’m ready for Phase II. Rather than impact an individual student, I would like to help support a school or a tutoring program. Rather than focus on a specific family, I would like to help support a community. Instead of being an anchor, I would like to become the sail.

The organization that we have supported all these years has undergone a major shift in how they deliver services, empowering local staff and local leaders to evaluate and assess needs and ensuring that resources are directed where they are most needed. Large project opportunities are determined by community rather than donors, creating partnership and trust and honoring culture. And, the organization’s mission and vision are now laser focused on just three programs: education, nutrition and health, and economic development. Their once micro approach has become macro, realizing that there can only be generational impact when communities are transformed together.

It’s funny. Our connection to Guatemala began through our son, but now it seemingly carries more meaning for us than it does for him. With no strings attached, we will continue to support organizations in Guatemala that do great work. We don’t need thank you notes or pictures or plaques on walls or fireworks. We simply want to add to the collective pool of resources that helps that great work get done. That’s enough. It always was.

All I've Ever Known

As a child, it’s all I ever knew…

Faces like mine with names like mine in houses like mine.

History lessons that I never thought to question.

Leadership that I trusted.

Movies and television that told familiar stories.

Advertisements that appealed to me.

News reports that seemed normal.

A feeling of safety in my own community.

A sense of caution when venturing out.

And then I entered into adulthood…

The world became bigger, but it was still the same.

Friends, neighbors, and colleagues looked like me.

I didn’t feel compelled to try new things…

Not out of spite, but simply out of routine.

Same food and culture.

Same hobbies and interests.

Same travel and exploration.

Same network of like people.

Same blindness to what lay beyond.

But then the world changed and my eyes  opened…

And I felt it all.

Shame.

Fear.

Ignorance.

How did I not see the injustice and exclusion?

Why was it suddenly so obvious and real?

And why doesn’t everybody see what I see?

My heart is hurting and I am ready to act.

But I am afraid.

I feel heavy with guilt.

I feel nervous to speak.

I feel culpable and complicit.

But my intentions are pure.

I don’t seek attention or praise.

I don’t wish to cause frustration or pain.

I don’t want to be a burden.

I know that I must forge my own path beside you.
I want to lend my voice to yours.

I hope that you will allow me that privilege.

I pray that you will feel my authenticity.

And I beg your forgiveness.

It’s all I’ve ever known. But now I know better.

Parenting Through Poverty vs. Pandemic

During this very week, in the years 2013, 2014, and 2017, our family of six accepted the challenge to experience food insecurity.  Inspired by the documentary, Living on One Dollar, filmed in the highlands of rural Guatemala, we committed to limiting the quantity, quality and choice of the food that we would consume over a five day period. It was hard, both physically and emotionally, and I find myself – in this moment of quarantine and caution – comparing the motherly stress of parenting through poverty vs. parenting through pandemic. For our family, poverty was the harder test.

Full disclosure here… We are all healthy, and we are fully engaged in both work and school. Miraculously, we have not been economically impacted. And, as an added bonus, we are not missing out on once-in-a-lifetime events like graduations or weddings, nor are we mandatorily separated from a family member who is at high risk or ill. Truly, we are abundantly blessed, and we are surrounded by a significant percentage of families whose biggest debates, like ours, revolve around which new dinner recipe to try and what movie to watch on Saturday night. We, collectively, are so darn lucky.

What is the instinct of the mama bear?

To comfort and protect.

Last week, one of my kids told my neighbor that I was being an extra good mother… and that it was weird. I think she may be right on both counts. Like no other time in my parenthood journey have I been more attentive to my kids. I’m baking and cooking on the daily (homemade pretzels… twice)!  I am being fun and funny, patient and accommodating (or, at the very least, I am consciously trying harder). I have returned to nesting mode and am slowly tackling projects and experiencing palpable joy with each achievement. Together with my beloved, we are wrapping our children in a blanket of security and reassurance and hope. Light and love are at home here… along with a new trampoline.

So how does living in the midst of a pandemic, gifted with all necessary resources, compare to living below the line of poverty? During those three distinct weeks of our food challenges, I have never felt more vulnerable and inadequate. I remember welling up as I counted 9 small pretzel sticks for each child’s school snack. And the sawdust taste of the generic cheese blend that we used to flavor our plain pasta. And the craving for protein and fresh fruits and vegetables... and treats. And the statement by my daughter that she didn’t wish to invite a friend to our house because we were poor that week and she was embarrassed by what little we could offer. And the worry that they would not do well in their studies because hunger was impeding their concentration. And witnessing their willingness to share when one needed more than the other… and feeling unworthy of their love for not being able to provide enough. And returning to the market at the end of the challenge, weeping as I savored each choice and relished no limitations. Be reminded that, during these three weeks, only our food intake was impacted. We still had shelter, clothing, access to medical care and transportation… we still collected income and attended school, and yet I felt like I had entirely failed my family. The weight and the darkness of those three weeks sits especially heavy on my heart, because I am now experiencing gratitude on an entirely new level.

Privilege

There was a time when I felt resentment toward the word “privilege,” like it somehow discounted the value that I had placed on attaining stability and that it begrudged the random chance that my soul was placed in a vessel that had access to every advantage. Now, I use it as a reminder to withhold judgement and offer grace.

I have experienced only short, temporary moments of economic disadvantage. Plentiful resources are at my fingertips and, should adversity strike, I have rainy day options. In case of downpour, a network of peers will, with certainty, captain our rescue boat. I have privilege.

And so I will not judge those whose economic footing is shaky and who fall asleep each night worrying about how to feed their children’s empty bellies or how to pay their bills. I will not argue with them, from the comfort of my couch, that we should stay inside until September and keep non-essential businesses closed indefinitely. I will not take away from them their potential to be the strongest mama bears that they can be… to have the means to offer comfort and protection to those they love. I simply will not.

My observation has been that actions taken and words chosen in this moment are simply a reflection of each individual’s values and fears. And so it entirely crushes me to watch fellow people of privilege use every platform available to belittle, to name call, to threaten, and to bully… as if their own well-being is worthy of elevation over others. The measurement on the rating scale for self-importance and self-preservation is dishearteningly through the roof. Thank goodness for the countless acts of kindness that serve not only to lift up but also to wash away some of the shame.

Like many, I’ve had considerable time to think over the past month, and – other than the utter disappointment in humanity – I am in a solid emotional space. I recognize my privilege and express gratitude in ways that makes my heart sing and has positive impact on others. I am doing my part to provide “quarinspiration” and to toss little nuggets of love out into the universe. I know it's my calling, but I also feel that it is my duty. "To whom much is given... "

Next Tuesday is #GivingTuesdayNow, an opportunity to financially support local, national and global service providers and their outreach to the most vulnerable among us. I hope that you will recognize an organization whose work you admire with a donation that is meaningful to you.

And, for those who are looking for your next great Amazon Prime pick, please consider watching Living On One Dollar and meet a few of my remarkable friends. Maybe you, too, will find yourself inspired to personally experience living below the line.

Pandemic or Poverty?
Everyone is worthy of rescue.
We are all in different boats, aren’t we? But if you’re floating in one that has any sort of dinghy attached to it, then you truly must count your blessings… and perhaps gently toss out a life ring to the many who are simply trying to tread water. Peace and love and compassion to all.

@bethechangebeth

COVID-19 Cancellation Suckiness Curve

On my trips to the market to replenish supplies for the 6 people and 2 dogs living under our roof, I undoubtedly bump into someone I know who asks how our family is holding up. And, each time I’m asked, I think about how truly blessed we are.

Yes… We have two high schoolers who are engaged with online lessons from 8am-2pm each day, and we have a college student who has moved home from out-of-state to complete her semester virtually, and we have a fully employed daughter who has taken over our home office and is working remotely. (Let’s not forget the husband who is bouncing between home and office.)  And the second dog… She’s a 10 week old puppy. (Dog humans: Need I say more?) The house rarely sees this much activity, and – I’ll have to admit – we’re not always the kindest and most thoughtful crew, but we are weathering this storm together.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the impact that the COVID-19 virus is having on the universe, especially as it relates to our interactions with one another and everything that has been outright cancelled or postponed in order to flatten the curve. It seems to me that the “suckiness” factor of the cancellation falls into one of three categories: (1) inconvenient, (2) depressing, and (3) life-altering.  I’m here to share my personal opinion that, if you haven’t been impacted in a life-altering way, then please… take a seat.

The grid below is certainly different for each and every one of us, but this is my take. Was I bummed that I won’t be the March Madness winner in my family this year?  You bet.  And was I really looking forward to our family cruise (no joke) departing from Rome (yes, the one in Italy) in June?   I sure was.   But, if we continue to be blessed with health, there will indeed be future opportunities to travel and I will – yet again – pick the perfect brackets based solely on how much I enjoy the state (thank you, lovely people of Utah) or saying the name of the college (Gonzaga, Gonzaga, Gonzaga).

My personal interpretation....  Yours would be different, for sure and certain.

How are you looking at our current situation? Have you taken up residence in the bitter barn or are you counting your lucky stars and doing your part to keep your community safe?

Is it likely that you will come out on the other side of this pandemic with health and hope? Then that, indeed, should be enough.

Perspective. May we all have it or be open to finding it.

@bethechangebeth