Category Archives: Nish Happens

The resilience of the Bolivian mother.

The women of Bolivia are brave.

Strong.

Resilient.

I had a feeling this might be the case upon arrival. The land is dry, arid and at a high elevation. It’s rugged, and not much grows in the soil here beyond potatoes, onions, carrots and a few peppers in the warmer areas of the country. It’s not a nutrient-rich area of the country, which contributes to the deep-seeded problems of malnutrition in children.

On our first day in the field here in Bolivia, we visited and Area Development Program (ADP) called Tiraque. This particular World Vision community has been around for 13 years.

During our time out, a group of us visited a Nutritional Recovery Program, where women in the Tiraque community come with their youngest children (babies up to five years old) to learn about procuring proper nutrition for their families. While the women learn different cooking techniques and information regarding food & its nutritional value, the small children attend a pre-school, taught by Victoria. Victoria is 20 years old, attending high school herself, taking care of her own daughter, and teaching these children three days a week. She is a remarkably gifted and inspirational teacher. And let’s get honest: any woman who can command a room of over 20 three-year-olds deserves high praise and affirmation.

In the dry dirt and grass outside of the classroom, we sat in a circle with the women and they were eager to tell us their stories, to tell us what their lives looked like during the long motherhood days.

Some walk to make sure their younger kids get to school. They walk again to this community World Vision center to learn about nutrition while their little ones learn how to read and write in a (fully sponsor-funded) preschool.

We asked them how long it took them to walk from their respective homes to this center. Some said 30 minutes, others said an hour, some said almost two hours. Another woman, wearing a white sweater, piped up and said if she didn’t have to get the kids to walk with her, it would take her fifteen minutes.

We all laughed – Bolivian and American, we all understood the universal language of parenting.

Everything takes longer with the kids in tow.

These women are so strong. They withstand the absence of their husbands, who often leave their wives and children indefinitely in search for work with more pay. Sometimes, their husbands move as far as Europe and the only signs of life are rare checks that come in the mail, if they arrive at all.

Many of these women survive physical abuse at the hands of their husbands.

They live on an income of $450 dollars a year.

Despite the conditions in which they have found themselves, these women are resilient and their hearts never stop beating the strong language of love for their children. And the help and support that they have found together, along with the preschool, has been made possible by World Vision’s child sponsorships.

The most wildly beautiful and redeeming thing about World Vision is that the entire community benefits. All of these women have their children registered in the WV program; some have been sponsored, some have not. But it doesn’t matter. Once they are registered, their children are not turned away and they are never denied the basic help and assistance that they need, regardless of a lack of sponsorship. And once their children are registered in the local ADP, the parents are able to benefit from programs like this nutritional recovery center and preschool. It’s a holistic & sustainable vision.

But it all starts with the children.

Everything revolves around the basic needs of the children.

And the presence of World Vision and this center has provided these mothers with something beyond practical skills and knowledge: A close community of other mothers who understand the daily struggles and victories of motherhood.

Child sponsorships and the meaningful partnerships with the local municipalities ensure that these programs become available and long-lasting for generations of children and mothers. They cannot continue without your help and support.

Please know that if you sponsor a child, you’re not only ensuring that the child receives a proper education, healthcare, nutritious food and clean water to drink, you’re helping to ensure that their mothers know how to keep them healthy, and that their younger brothers and sisters are prepared for entering grade school.

Child sponsorship helps the whole child through helping the whole family, and it transforms whole communities in a sustainable and empowering way.

Will you consider sponsoring a Bolivian child today?

Sponsor in Bolivia
 

All photos © Amy Conner for World Vision

The dread and joy of leaving & arriving.

Erik had the car running outside in the garage. It was early. 4:00am-kinda-early.

My bags were loaded in the trunk of the hatchback and I quietly slipped back inside the house and made my way to Rowan’s door.

I put my ear against the cold painted wood and listened – I could hear him breathing heavily in his sleep on the other side. I turned the knob slowly and walked in, the hallway light just barely warming the room.

Standing next to the crib, I saw his back rise and fall with each deep breath he took.

I sat down on the carpet and pressed my forehead against one of the slats of crib. There he was, I could see him clearly through the planks. His face puffy with sleep, eyes closed, cheeks flushed pink.

I knew.

I knew from the moment I said yes to going on this trip that I would find myself in this place. Sitting on the carpet, trying to get my face as close to his as I could, just one last time before walking out the door. I knew that I would have to say goodbye to my son in order to find help for even just one more child in Bolivia.

The goodbyes always carry dread. Tears flow hot and my own breath is caught in my lungs and I tighten my chest to keep the sobs from barreling out of my mouth.

But with the dread of goodbye, I anticipate deep joy.

I’ll be with a team of nine others and we’ll visit and love and see how lives are changed through World Vision. Not only do I feel deeply connected to my fellow travelers, I know I am partnering with the One who sustains.

He is already doing a great work in here Bolivia. I’m just along for the ride. And that, my friends, is a joy to know and believe.

So now, I type this from an altitude of 13,000 feet in La Paz, my legs spread stretched on a hotel bed and my luggage strewn about the room.

I’m tired, my bones ache from the hours of sitting, I have a 4:30am wake-up call and the air here is thin. But, we’re here. We’ve made it into the country with absolutely no problems and I am praising God for it all.

And with a full heart bursting at the seams, I’m going to bed.

More soon. Next stop, Cochabamba.

 

Sponsor in Bolivia

Preparation.

In less than 48 hours, I’ll board a plane bound for Los Angeles… the start of my journey to Bolivia. I’m in the throes of preparation today, in hopes that tomorrow, I can fully devote my love and attention to my guys.

Shoes, fleece, rain jacket, ibuprofen… I have everything on the list but I feel strangely unprepared.

Restless.

I’m packing relatively light for eight days of international travel.

I feel heavy.

I’m spending every spare moment smelling the fine blonde hair on Rowan’s almost-two-year-old head and I wonder if he knows I’m leaving. He’s drawn nearer to me this week.

The hugs are longer. The snuggles are deeper. The giggles are louder. The kisses are many. And I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to leave him.

I pack my bag and my eyes get bleary wet. It’s only eight days.

I can feel change coming. It gets closer with each moment passed and I’m trying hard not to dig in my heels. I’m trying to open my hands instead – raise them high in praise and gratitude. I have said yes to going, and now it’s almost time to go.

It’s time to live out the Yes.

 

 

I am.

I am woman.

I can roar louder than most, but I’d rather you hear my pumping heart, beating loudly with life and love that runs deep & thick through each vein.

I’m intelligent but not always logical.

I carry the weight of my hips & the weight of the world; I’m stronger than I look & I’m stronger than I feel.

I am made in the image of God and I am emotional. I don’t want to keep my feelings bound up in the bars of my ribcage.

Stop telling me it’s not okay to feel. Stop telling me it’s okay not to feel.

I am a relentless woman.

I am mother.

I have given birth. I have labored and pushed out life into this world with my own body and I am a partner in creations new.

I have nursed and fed and soothed and protected. I am a fearsome thing to behold. And even on the worst days, when the discipline track gets played on repeat, I hold a fierce love that could set a forest on fire with the smallest kindling.

I am survivor.

I have clawed my way through the valley of death and I did fear evil because it reigned in my mind. I continue to walk the hills of depression but I know that the hurt means I’m alive and isn’t that a gift?

My skin has been sliced and diced by words and knives alike and the scar tissue doesn’t numb the remembering but it makes me stronger than I was when I started.

Yes, I am a relentless woman.

I sit in the early mornings, hot coffee between my hands and I wonder how I’m going to avoid the shallow end of the pool today. I fear being too safe and I fear the risk. I am a contradiction but I walk it out and figure it out and learn that I need to say yes to the mess. Yes to the risk. Yes to really living it full.

Because this life… this one life I have & everything I pack into it is a gift.

I’m re-learning the graceful art of counting the gifts, the blessings.

I think of that quote, “What if you woke up tomorrow with only what you thanked God for today?”

And I am haunted.

I am reminded.

I am compelled.

I am counting.

Again.

 

281. Blank journal pages and a pen that works.

282. I have the most inspiring friends. Even the ones I haven’t met yet.

283. Hot coffee out of the french press.

284. The way the clouds settle in low on the hills, as only Oregon can provide.

285. Our house is selling – we close August 27th. A new adventure begins and a new family awaits us!

286. Tiny hands that reach for mama in the tired hours.

287. The gift of child sponsorship that so many will offer to kids in Bolivia.

288. A new suitcase. With wheels. And a handle that works.

289. Hot summer days spent by the pool, watermelon in hand.

290. The way he wraps his arms around me in the dark.

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Airplanes, poverty and open hands.

I was born with wanderlust pumped thick into my blue veins and extra weight in my heels to make digging in a little easier. I’ve dreamed big dreams of flying in airplanes, putting my hands on the small, cold windows and yet I take those same hands and clench tight around my fears, refusing to loosen the grip.

When it comes to risk and dreams, I’ve been a walking contradiction my whole life.

I’m not sure what’s different this time around. That gentle Holy whisper that speaks “Go,” or maybe it’s the mischievous smile from my husband when I told him “I don’t wanna.” Something stirred deep in my soul when World Vision asked me to go with them to Bolivia and I begged God to just tell me clearly: Should I go?

I know nothing of poverty. What would I see? And do I really want to see it? Can I handle the weight of seeing?

I talk a big game about wanting to make a difference and get my hands dirty with the hard work of serving. I want to learn, to understand and be a part of something bigger than myself. To be broken of my western, American insulation and exposed to the needs of the world… and to respond.

But, the skin on my hands is soft and it’s cold here in my air-conditioned bedroom. My hands have never worked the hard labor of so many in Bolivia. I’m afraid of seeing too much and I’m scared of feeling guilty about these weak suburban-raised, privileged hands.

I’m afraid that these hands, even when spread wide with everything I can offer, will be too little, too late. Not enough. I have deeply believed the lies that tell me I’m not enough.

And so for a week, I sat on that ledge of going and not going. I balanced clumsily, not sure where I was going to land. I came up with about ten thousand reasons not to go (it’s too soon, in the middle of rafting season, getting a passport would be tough, I’ll have to leave my guys for 8 days, I’ll be going without Erik, and and and…), but they all made the reasons to go seem even bigger and more important. The going started to outweigh the staying and I got bone-rattling scared.

Mae West said, “You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

I want to do it right, this one life I’ve been gifted. To pack each moment full of life and risk. I want to empty those same moments of the fears I’ve held too close. To lay down my comfort, heart and life for the sake of others. To speak for those whose voices are drowned out by the roaring burdens of poverty and injustice.

My typed-out lines are small. I’m not an influencer or leader. I’m not a theologian or gifted speaker.

I’m a wife who doesn’t love deep enough and a mother who gets it wrong every day. My grace is lacking and I fight the bitterness of unbelief.

These hands… the ones that wipe down counters at night and stroke the back of a sleeping toddler and knead bread that goes into the oven… these hands and everything I have to offer, will never be enough. But it’s never been about me and what I have to offer on my own, has it?

So I do what I can and I open these hands, spread the fingers wide with offering, lifted up with palms up, praying that my small voice here and there would only speak His words. And I pray that the words I manage to type out would reach out to you. That somehow He would move you, too, as you come with me to Bolivia to meet the kids who need you. You with your own hands raised and spread wide open in offering.

I hopped down off that ledge of going and staying and ended up falling face-first into going. Because it’s not about me, or you. It’s about Jesus breathing in and through us, pouring out His hope into Bolivia, one child at a time.

So, I’m traveling with World Vision and a team of unbelievably talented & passionate bloggers to the country of Bolivia, where I’ll see the work of World Vision firsthand, meet and love the people and children, and I’m sure, be changed forever.

You can follow my journey in three places: here, A Deeper Story, and the World Vision blog.

I’m traveling with these incredible bloggers, along with Carla, Lindsey and Michael from World Vision, and Amy, our trip photographer:

Matthew Paul Turner
Rachel Held Evans
Chad Holtz
Joy Bennett
Elizabeth Esther
Deb Wolf
Jana Melpolder

 

We’ll all be posting on our individual spaces (and Joy and I will be doubling up at Deeper Story, too). You can also follow our collective journey on the World Vision Blog.

We don’t leave until July 30th, which is a short month away. I feel like I’m going to need the whole month to prepare my heart and eyes for what I’m going to see and experience. I’m grateful for the time I have.

During this waiting time, while we all tap our fingers and nervously await the moment of leaving, would you pray? Pray for the group, pray for me, and perhaps pray about sponsoring a child from Bolivia?

More soon, friends.

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