My heart aches for them. I now work a forty hour work week and the ache in my heart is not figurative.
I am one guilty momma.
I never intended to be a working mother. It snuck up and bit me like the bullet that hit Forest Gump in the ass with our family business. It was an invoice here and a phone call there. Eventually, I was working all of the time and parenting/wife-ing in between. I suppose you could flip that over and it would mean the same thing.
During my quick on the job training as a self employed business owner I began to peek into the non profit world. First working to advocate as a member of the Genocide Intervention Network. Eventually, I joined the Board of the Michigan Darfur Coalition. I tossed around the idea of applying for a fellowship or going back to school for a degree in some sort of third world country development. Every time the ideas surfaced, a reason to delay covered them and pushed them under.
I love my job. (blah, blah, blah…here she goes again…)
However, I did look my husband in the eye and ask him if I was a selfish, horrible mother. To which he wisely said no and then recommended that I wake up early to spend more time with the children in the mornings.
My job has made me keenly aware of how precious my time with my children is. How my eldest wants me to watch his
boring as hell video game just because. I notice how my middle is willing to dance with me in the kitchen any time I ask. I hang on the newly formed words of my two year old which tonight included an unreasonable amount of requests for more bacon. (as if it’s possible to request too much bacon)
If you are a friend of mine and are unfortunate enough to have accepted my virtual friend request on Facebook then you know one thing very well.
I love my new job.
I could shout if from the roof top.
I love my job! I love my boss! I love the orphans we serve!
I apologize for the redundancy in my posts lately.
I was nearly pushed into tears yesterday alternately by inspiration and sadness. Jackson, the Executive Director of the Nyaka AIDS Orphans Project, who shall thus forth be called by his name in my blog posts, hates to be referred to as a boss. For the record, the organization employs over 35 people in two countries, and so he most definitely is the boss but I’m not gonna split hairs.
He asked me to prepare a presentation bag that he can always use and expect to be organized for events where a power point presentation is required. In the process of cleaning out random city brochures, broken rubber bands and cd’s of Ugandan music, he asked me to be sure a #2 pencil was in the bag for his pencil presentation.
Eerrr….the record screeched to a halt.
What is the pencil presentation? I asked with a hint of laughter in my voice. I was kind of expecting a cheesy professorial teaching tool like the one in the chain mail where the professor fills the jar with rocks, pebbles, sand and beer….or something.
That is not the story I got.
Jackson’s father used to cut a single pencil into five separate pieces so that all of the Kaguri children could attend school. Even today, if a child comes to school and his family is too poor to purchase a pencil for him, he is sent home. If they have a little bit of a pencil, even an inch worth, they can stay. My tears were very near the surface. I told him that made me want to cry. He said it was okay too.
I think I will wait. I am sure that this is not the last time my heart will be broken at the poverty of the people we serve in southwestern Uganda.
Instead, I went back to work. I am learning about the non-profit world from the inside this time. I have spent my week organizing events, travel plans and marketing the different aspects of the organization.
|Put this little photo op together.|
I am still completely over the moon that I could possible earn money doing what I feel
is my calling is the perfect job for me.
I got my first paycheck the other day. I know! A real one. Like, with my name on it and everything.
You know what excited me the most about that paycheck?
Do you know what else?
I have re-upped with Compassion International to sponsor a child in Thailand.
My heart swells at the idea that I can serve the poor in my occupation, with a portion of my wages as commanded by God and support my family. I honestly feel like a member of the nouveau riche.
On a lighter note….
Just in case you were going to chalk me up as a self righteous goody-goody….
Is that redundant?
I have also joined ShoeDazzle.com. Yep. it is the equivalent of the shoe of the month club. I pay $40 a month for a new pair of shoes or opt out and pay nothing. There are also no shipping and handling charges. When you sign up they give you a fashion quiz that determines the selection they offer you in your personal showroom.
I just got these little gems.
|I know what your thinking…A completely practical choice. :)|
Oh and your first purchase is 20% OFF!
Of course, if I can rope you in too, I get free stuff.
Seriously though, this is just a weak attempt to show you I am still a sucker for good old American consumerism. It’s just secondary to my philanthropic tendencies. If I could choose for you, I would go for what’s behind doors number 1 & 2. It will satisfy your soul.
I feel like the shoes are a little gift to myself…but now I am wondering if the closet in my mansion in heaven will have something better if I give them up.
Now that may be worth pondering.
All my love,
|Some of the children I work for *squeal*|