Sweet Ideas

I’m very proud of my wife.  A few months ago Ruth had the idea of making a Bake and Crafts Sale for the Christmas season.  The plan was straightforward enough: bake a collection of items, set up and sell at the local supermarket, raise money for Dar El Awlad and increase awareness in the community.  The set-up was easy, but the execution was tricky.  Lots of gifted hands pitched in to bake, spread the word, prepare, and sell.  It was a team effort, but Ruth was the captain.  She was the first to start working and the last to stop.  This was her idea; she pushed it through and, in the end, made it a success.  

Some money was raised and some PR was spread.  DEA will benefit from the bake sale in ways we can measure and ways we cannot.  Maybe it won’t add up to much but it will add up to something.  Even so, I’m proud of Ruth.  It’s not because of what the bake sale earned but simply because it happened.  Everyone has good ideas about what can help the orphanage.  We all think we know the thing that will move things along or improve this or that.  In my experience I find that very rarely do ideas ever materialize.  This time they did.  It was a small endeavor, but sometimes even little ideas are big achievements when they actually happen.  I’m very proud of Ruth for what she does and what she is.  I hope she rubs off on others, especially me.

Bakers busy at work

The little kiosk

Smiling faces and helping hands!

Goodbye to a Friend

This week I said a goodbye to a friend.  It wasn't a final goodbye, but a difficult one nonetheless.  Camille was hired on staff at Dar El Awlad in 1984 by my grandfather and spent nearly 28 years serving at the ministry, first as a gardener and then as a cook.  Over the decades he prepared (literally) tons of food, watched many dozens of boys grow into men, and saw volunteers from all over the world come and go.  He was the last staff remnant of my grandparents’ time in Lebanon, and when he walked off site the final time the chapter on an era officially closed.  It’s not just the link to a nostalgic pass that I have said goodbye to; it is a friend.

Most of my days for the past six years have started with a “hello, how are you?” from Camille as I popped into the kitchen to give a morning greeting.  Over the years we shared running jokes about solving the problems of Dar El Awlad first and then sorting out the Middle East next, lessons on agriculture, updates on family, and discussion on the many things that fill this life between birth and death.  We gathered together in his mountain village and shared meals at his home in the city.  There were funerals and weddings, visits during holidays and drop-ins after surgeries.  There were goodbyes and there were welcome backs.  There was a season-through-season friendship.

Making a change now is good and right.  Camille’s kids are all grown, and he still has health and strength to spend time working in the village and tending to his lands.  His home in the city is near and it’ll be easy to him call up or stop by for a visit.  Community circles are small around here; our life has many more intersections to come.  But I’ll miss Camille’s daily presence at the ministry.  I’ll miss his interactions with the boys, his philosophical offerings for any situation, and his genuine concern about family and loved ones.  These coming days I will find myself facing something new.  It’s something small, but still something I haven’t had to experience during my years at Dar El Awlad.  I’m thankful that God brought us Camille nearly three decades ago, and I’m thankful that he has remained a consistent presence ever since.  May God help those of us remaining to likewise tarry on with steadiness and faithfulness, just like my friend Camille.

This little light of mine, helping us through study time.

We often have power issues at Dar El Awlad.  However, this time it's not about boys recognizing and respecting authority; it's about electricity.  The government has been sending only limited electricity our way (3-4 hours a day) and we can't afford to run our generator full-time (at $20 an hour we simply don't have the money to cover the diesel bills), so we've been dealing with power cuts.  Late sunrises and early sunsets combined with and a winter storm have left us often feeling our way in the dark. 

We've been resorting to old-fashioned candle light for study time as we wait for the generator to kick in for the evening.  Actually the results have been positive.  I don't know if it's the soft glow of a little flame or the inner longing for a sense of ruggedness, but the boys seem to be more attentive and focused.  Maybe we'll stick with the wax and wick even when the electricity problems are sorted out.  It will be nice to at least have the option of light bulbs though.

The Future of Syria and the Hope in Reaching Another's Pain

I want to invite you to step into someone else’s pain.  The Syrian displacement tragedy is the greatest man-made humanitarian crisis of the 21^st century.  Of the many millions affected, children are the least at fault and yet the most to suffer.  The UNHCR has recently released an intensive report on the plight of the over one million children living this continuous nightmare.  The Future of Syria report provides an in-depth analysis of the scope and dimensions of the suffering.  I encourage you to take some time to read the stories, ponder the statistics, and grasp the sheer scale of the crisis. 

In the coming weeks I hope to draw from the Future of Syria report and share how particular problems are facing children I know.  These may be individuals currently in Dar El Awlad programs or family relatives that have seen life turned upside down by war.  I’d like this to be a tool for others to enter into the pain of the victims and sympathize with the human fallout of armed conflict, but I’m not sure how possible this is.  The issue is not a shortage of knowledge (modern technology has made information very accessible) nor is it a lack of caring (there are many compassionate people around, I know this).  I simply believe the chasm between the experiences of the suffering displaced and us is too great to bridge.

For the nearly the past three years I have journeyed through this conflict and watched it drain the lives of countless individuals.  I’ve sat in refugee tents and visited makeshift camps.  I’ve heard the tales of fleeing in the night from pending attacks and navigating escape routes through combat zones.  I’ve held babies born in displacement and gathered supplies for relief distribution.  I’ve witnessed families divided and tried helping to track down a missing person.  I’ve offered hallow explanations about what is going on and what might happen.  Mostly I’ve just sat in silence, listened to despair and said “I don’t know… I’m sorry.”  I’ve been affected by the armed conflict; my life has been changed by it.  Even so, I’m so far away from it all.  The painful realities facing millions is a reality that I cannot claim as mine.  I occasionally visit their situation of pain, but I live in a different world.  I wake up from the nightmare, they never do.

So what’s the point of caring if I can’t fully feel what they feel?  How do I offer compassion or sympathy in a situation that I can so easily walk away from?  All would be futile and empty if it wasn’t for a baby born two centuries ago.  One single life changed the way we know someone’s pain because it showed to the world that God has felt pain.  Christ was born in a barn.  He was a child refugee forced to flee threats of violence.  His life was one of instability and flux.  Ultimately, Christ suffered rejection and endured death on a cross.  He knows pain.  He knows displacement.  He knows what it’s like when your whole world is turned upside down.  That’s why He can bring hope.  My only prayer for reaching into someone’s pain is the knowledge that I don’t have to bridge the chasm between our experiences. God does.  His grace reaches the deepest parts of hearts alike.  When we read a news story or a U.N. report and learn about another’s pain, we know that God is the only hope we have to respond in any way that will make a difference.  This is all the hope we need to press on in love.

Our Lebanon Independence Day: Tradition in Creation

November 22 is Lebanese Independence Day and, as is tradition, Dar El Awlad sent a group of young patriots to climb a mountain.  About an hour drive from Dar El Awlad lays the quaint village Baskinta nestled within the mountains under the shadow of Mount Sannine (8,622 ft).  It’s a stunning place, perhaps my favorite getaway destination in all of Lebanon. 

The rock and dirt is a welcome change of terrain from the concrete our boys are used to in their urban jungle habitats.  An encounter with the wild mountains is good for any city creatures.  I always enjoy discovering the elements of character and personalities that show themselves when these boys are out of their natural environment.  They’re full of surprises!

Some made it to the summit, others got…halfway.  But that didn't really matter; each one reached the personal heights that mattered.  What is important is that we extended our gaze at God’s wonderful creation and enjoyed the landscapes of the country that has taken us as residents.  Personally, I’m fortunate to spend a day doing something I love to do with a special group of guys.  We’re already looking forward to Independence Day 2014!  I trust the mountain will be waiting for us, as it has done for the ages.

About to set out on our ascent. Maybe we're not all looking up for it?

Setting off.  Soon we'll blaze our own trail. 

 Don't be fooled.  The crest is farther than it looks.

 With sights like this it was easy to be distracted away from feelings of toil

 Taking on some scrambling

 Stopping at a perch to prepare our lunch.

 Moving horizontally can be harder than moving vertically.  This fellowship did great.

Wrapping it up. Tired but feeling accomplished.

A Weekend of Memorials and Marathons

As much as possible we try to provide our boys with fulfilling, interesting, and positive life experiences.  This isn’t often easy with the limited resource at our disposal, but occasionally we get a weekend like this past one when new challenges are faced and great memories are made.

Remembrance Day is celebrated in early November when Commonwealth countries remember those who served country and died in combat.  The observation goes back to 1919 and is honored around the globe.  In Beirut, the British Embassy organizes a very appropriate and sincere ceremony at the Beirut British War Cemetery.  In the midst of a hectic metropolitan, this tranquil site individually marks 1,147 lives of diverse nationalities that were lost in the two World Wars.  Each year a young man from Dar El Awlad is given the honor of participating in the ceremony by laying the wreath.  It is quite an experience for our boys and each year I’m impressed by how they are treated with such respect, interest, and encouragement.

This year Ochinga was the representative to perform the honor.  He even showed up with a DEA entourage.  Ochinga usually is not the type to be coy or nervous, but when he saw the crowd of uniformed men and women, he got a case of the butterflies and needed some steady reassurance.  As we awaited the start of the program he prayed a prayer for steadiness and concentration, and when his time came he proved to be an ace.  Afterwards we enjoyed a reception and the chance to mingle with ambassadors, embassy staff, defense attaches, and international United Nations peacekeepers.  The real treat was to converse with some Lebanese WWII veterans who could still recall the war stories and recite the patriotic verses of nearly 70 years ago.  It was a special encounter of our boys as they interacted with living history and gained a greater appreciation of the generations that have preceded us.  Of the many events I get to be a part of each year, this remains one of the most special and meaningful.  We greatly appreciate the British Embassy for inviting Dar El Awlad to be part of Remembrance Day each year.

Ochinga laying the wreath following the 2 Minutes of Silence during Remembrance Day at the Beirut British War Cemetery.  

Personal recognition of a task done well.

A moment with His Excellency

U.N. Servicemen from India

Listening to our very own veterans share memories of WWII.  We won't have many opportunities to experience this living history again.

Remembrance Day is usually held on Sunday morning but this year it was on Saturday because Sunday was the……

Beirut Marathon!  Each November the city of Beirut turns the streets over to runners for the annual Beirut Marathon.  There is indeed an official marathon, but most people participate in the attached 10 K race (which I have done ran the past couple years) and a 5K youth run.  Thanks to the local Lions Club, 10 of our boys between the ages of 10 and 14 were invited to participate in the 5K.  We joined many thousands in gathering with participants from around the country to share in the uniting experience of sport.  I think this is a great event that really shines a hopeful light on Lebanon and serves as an inspiration to its residents.  We had a good time even if it wasn't a very fast time.  For each of our boys it was the first chance to be in a proper race and I hope it won’t be the last.  All day they were full of stories about the event.  They weren't all accurate stories, but in a sincere way they were all true.  That’s what’s important to these kids after all.

 Stretching before the race.  But who was I kidding, these kids still have rubber for muscles.  They're not looking at 30 like me.

 Making our way to the starting line.  I lost four boys along the way.  No worries, they all made it across the finish line eventually!

 Debriefing and enjoying treats from the post-race sack.

In a race like this, we're all winners!  But I get to take the prize in the middle!

Take your wife to work day!

This week Ruth had a day off from school for Reformation Day (Yes, one may have to travel to Lebanon to find a legitimate Reformation Day remembrance) and rather than sleep in she got up early to join me at the New Horizons Center.  It was her first chance to meet the kids and staff of the program and their first chance to meet Ruth.  She was quite a hit among all and I’m anticipating disappointment in future weeks when I turn up alone.   The day gave her a chance to see the different challenges facing the children as well as opportunities to impact some special lives.  

 It wasn’t all business.  Saida is a wonderful seaside down with castle ruins, old markets, and delicious fresh fish.  We took our time getting home and enjoyed a little day out in the old city.

 

 Carpentry at the old market.  A certain carpenter once visited Saida a couple thousand years ago! 

One can easily get lost in the maze of narrow rows and tunnels.

 We love old stairs...

and doors!