Review: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I don’t often pick up fiction books, although when I do I usually enjoy them. They are much more fast-paced and typically easier to digest than a textbook, and they give creative perspective. I stumbled upon The Road by Cormac McCarthy while reading a blog called The Art of Manliness. The blog by Brett McKay has a ton of helpful tips for men that often are passed from father to son (but not always) like how to tie a Windsor knot or how to make conversation with others. It’s a great blog by the way, but that is content for another post. J Brett had written a post about The Road, and said that he has read it every year as a bit of a tradition. His post inspired me to check out the book.

I probably should have been more aware of the book long before Brett’s post though. The book was made into a movie in 2009, and it also won the Pulitzer Prize in 2006. Reading this book evoked images for me of something like a Mad Max or Book of Eli post-apocalyptic world. The land was cold, and the people left on earth were struggling to survive.

The story is one of a journey of survival for a father and son through a wasteland. A journey filled with people who were bent on evil—robbers, cannibals, and many other unsavory and untrustworthy people. The father had made it his mission to protect his son and keep them both alive for as long as he could.

He used a metaphor with his son to emphasize character, “Carrying the fire.” People who carry the fire, are not cannibals, they are the good guys. The father and son reminded one another regularly that they were the good guys as they struggled to survive, and struggled to do the right thing as they traveled the road.

For me, the book, while a sobering look at love for one’s family, and the hard choices many people have to face for daily living, was more of a book about character and love. How will I raise my child to be a person of good character? What kind of person am I becoming by my own routines? How am I making the most of the limited time I have on this earth to care for others?

I recommend The Road, but I don’t think I’ll make it an annual reading. It is a dark and gripping story of a world that has largely lost its way and lost hope, but through the love of this father and son, a cold and unrelenting post-apocalyptic world seems like cannot hinder the power of virtue to shine forth through the darkness.

Whatever the darkness that may encompass our own lives, may we ever be mindful that faith, hope, and love abide, and even more so, may we, as we are able, seek to push back the darkness and live as ambassadors of hope.

Happy New Year 2017!

Welcome to 2017! You made it! It is a new year! I'm not one for wishing away the past or anything like that--I think every day and every year has some pretty amazing stuff, and some really difficult times--that's just a part of life in this world.

Now's not the time for lamenting about how much the past year stunk or how awesome it was though. Now's the time for embracing the moment and moving forward--resolving to be a better version of yourself. 

Some people debate about their resolutions or their disbelief in resolutions, but personally, I've always felt like New Year's Day gives us an opportunity for new beginnings and fresh starts. If you use a planner, this is a point during which most of the pages are blank. There is a world of possibility out there. Truth be told, there's always a world of possibility out there, but sometimes having that mindset allows us to procrastinate our lives away, waiting for the perfect time to plan and "get organized" or start a diet or workout regimen. In fact, did you know what the number one day is for launching new diets and workouts and similar activities? If you said New Year's Day, you would be wrong. The number one day for starting to pursue a new goal is tomorrow...

Let that sink in for a minute. It is soooooo easy to wait for tomorrow to start doing the things you want to do. Tomorrow always seems like it will be a better day than today.

"I'll wake up early tomorrow, my bed is too comfortable right now." 

"I'll start exercising tomorrow; I'm feeling kind of tired today." 

"I'll eat better tomorrow; I'd hate for that dessert to go to waste." 

"I'll write that blog post tomorrow, I'm just too busy right now."

"I'll set goals tomorrow, I've gotta watch some tv."

And so we let tomorrow tempt us to squander today's opportunity. 

Don't do it! 

Soon, the sun will set on the first day of the year. Resolution or no resolution, what are the goals you want to start moving toward in 2017? What's one of them? Make a conscious decision right now, that you will at least take a step toward one of your goals before you let your head hit that pillow tonight.

Maybe you haven't really given it a lot of thought. What do you want to set for a goal in 2017? Maybe that's your starting point. Before going to sleep, take a few minutes (not more than 5), and dream about what you want to really want accomplish this week, month, and year. Write it down. Put it on your mirror, and start moving toward it. 

I'll be doing the same. I've got some goals that are always there, top of mind--those are the one's I'm starting to take action toward today. But then, I've found there are always goals and hopes that are hanging out just below the surface that percolate when I make a little time to mentally focus on them.

May today be a new beginning for focus, for hope, and for moving toward some incredible goals that will allow you to bring your absolute best into each day--not only for your own benefit, but for the benefit of others.

Sylvia Traveling Home And Extended Family Time

Well it has been a whirlwind since Sylvia’s birth—in fact on the day of her birth, we had some heavy winds and rain and a bout of cold, blustery weather to welcome her to this world (but it has warmed up a bit since then)! In fact, when I went out to grab the car seat so we could be trained on proper use, it was a warm fall day. 

But that took a turn as we were bringing her out, and the winds picked back up again. We had spent the entirety of our time in the hospital in Jamie’s delivery room, and I felt more sensitive than ever to the fragility of this life we were entrusted with, and as I watched leaves blow across the parking lot, I thought about just how scary and wonderful this world is all at the same time.

And after we arrived at home, we began to return to our routine of daily three mile walks through our neighborhood. But again, a whole new world emerged to us as we traveled. Sylvia was taking it all in, but I was thinking about how loud the construction vehicles were near Mountaineer Field, and how much louder still the giant Helicopter was as it landed near Ruby Memorial Hospital. And then the smells—exhaust, garbage, construction—we were becoming attuned to the minor details that have been the background of our routine. Our daughter, gave us heightened senses and deeper of awareness of everything going on around us.

And then we were able to have a few visitors up. Jamie’s parents (Monday) and my dad and sister (Tuesday and Wednesday) made the trip up to greet Miss Sylvia and welcome her into the world. Of course we have had our share of joyful tears with each new day, but there was something really special for me to see Sylvia’s grandparents and her aunt holding her. All of these visitors were special, but my heart melted when my dad held his grand-daughter. He’s such a hard-working and compassionate man, and it made me so encouraged and excited to see him holding her and speaking so softly to her as he welcomed her into the family. 

In addition, it was absolutely wonderful to see Jamie and her mom work together to give Sylvia her first bath. They did an amazing job, and there’s something really endearing about seeing three generations of women together, and watching as the older teaches the younger and gives encouragement along the way. I feel like Jamie’s folks did a really good job with her, so any lessons to be learned, we definitely want to pick up. 

Our world is full of awe as we witness Sylvia’s growth, and we are tremendously thankful for all of the kind notes, encouragement, and gifts we have received from friends and family both near and far. We are filled with gratitude for this new life, and we are additionally grateful for the way so many people we care so much about have rallied around us during this season as well! 

Reflection: Congratulations To Kiva For Ten Years Of Changing Lives

Recently I was contacted by a good friend, world changer, and former Nuru staff member and asked if I would be willing to help her get the word out about Kiva's latest video and their celebration of 10 years and a deep global impact from their efforts. For me, the response was all to easy. In a country that has more than 1.5 million nonprofits in existence, I believe it is critical to share the stories of those who are doing great work. Kiva is one of those organizations.

But it isn't just me saying so. Kiva has been fortunate enough in its early years to get a vote of confidence from former President Bill Clinton and Oprah Winfrey among others. And, back in 2009, Jamie received a Kiva loan gift card from my best friend in the whole world, Willie. Jamie has used the gift multiple times because every time the borrower repays their loan, she has been able to extend a new loan to a new borrower. I know Jamie has really enjoyed reading stories of how the loans would be used, and it has helped us both to grow in our understanding of what it is like to be an entrepreneur in different parts of the world.

And thanks to Willie's example, we have also bought Kiva loan gift cards for others who are lending and re-lending funds to people looking for a hand-up instead of a hand-out. Kiva finds entrepreneurs and connects them to lenders from around the globe who can help these entrepreneurs launch their dreams. Farmers are among those individuals Jamie has lent funds to--for folks familiar with Nuru, you know that having funds available to acquire high quality seed and fertilizer is a huge obstacle for farmers living in extreme poverty. But Kiva is not just helping farmers, they are helping people in a variety of contexts to begin turning a dream into a reality. Jamie has also helped invest in schools fees for a family in Lebanon, a businesswoman in Sierra Leone, and even invested in a medical clinic in Kenya.

If you have never set up a loan through Kiva, I highly recommend it. Regardless of other ways you may be investing your money to help others, extending a loan via Kiva is a great way to gain perspective with regard to the challenges of others around the word. Not only that, but it provides a great reminder that together, lasting change is possible!

I hope you will join me, Jamie, Willie, and others in congratulating Kiva for ten years of amazingness. You can share this blog, share the video above, or even Tweet with the hashtag #BeTheSpark to encourage and congratulate them.

Together, let's keep doing our part to make the world a better place, and take time to celebrate successes along the way! Congratulations Kiva! You inspire us, and remind us of the good work being done in our world!

Reflection: Remembering Mom Nine Years Later

It was nine years ago on this day that I cut off most of my hair as per Shawnee mourning tradition; one year later, I cut off the rest of it, and have kept it short since. It was just a little after 1PM when my mom breathed her last breath on this earth and went off to be with Jesus. I vividly remember those last hours in a hospital room surrounded by family and friends who had gathered to give one-sided goodbyes. The goodbyes were one-sided because my mom spoke her last words during the evening before. My last two-way exchange with her happened that evening. My last words to her that evening were “Goodnight Mom, I love you,” as I turned and walked out the door to her hospital room. Her last words to me were, “I love you” as I walked out of the room. She loved all of us so well.

In the weeks leading up to her departure, she had started calling me her warrior and my older sister her princess. To this day, when I hear the term warrior, I think of my mom, her battle with cancer, and her bestowing that name on me. She was one of the greatest warriors I have ever known, and she taught so many of us about what service and love look like.

Even during her last days, she was befriending the custodial and nursing staff of the hospital and looking to brighten their days. How she spent those last days was similar to how I watched her spend so many other days throughout her life. She was caring for others and speaking words of potential and hope into everyone. Those last few days, she shared visions with us, and so much joy. Her last morning and afternoon on earth, she was literally surrounded by people who loved her, who were praying with and for her right up to the point she departed this world into the world to come. Even at her funeral, it was less of a time of mourning and grief (although in our family culture we believe in slowing down and mourning in fullness), and more of a time of celebration and joy at heaven’s gain, as well as the fact that my mom would no longer suffer.

It’s nine years later, and as I write, the strong mix of emotions is just as fresh and as potent as it was on that early afternoon in a hospital room. My mom ran her race well and finished strong! She gave each of us who knew her a legacy and an example to which we could all strive to live in accordance—a legacy and an example of honor and compassion—a legacy of hope. I'm grateful that friends like Willie wrote beautiful songs like this one to help others who may not have known her get an idea of who she was. She was the kind of person people write songs about.

When Mom was diagnosed in summer 2006, her physician told her that she had a maximum of six months to live without treatment, and eighteen months with; she went to be with Jesus about 11 months after the news hit. When I talked to her about it she said the main thing she felt was sadness about leaving dad and us kids behind. She loved so much and so well.

A couple of months into her first round of chemotherapy, as her hair was starting to come out, she had made herself some bandannas to cover her head. The people of her church had gathered to pray for her and for another gentleman who had been diagnosed with another form of cancer. She looked that man in the eyes and reminded him, and all of us, “No matter what happens, we win!” That was exactly the kind of hope and faith my mom lived every one of her days with.

Each year, as the anniversary of my mom’s departure from this world arrives, I try to take some time to ruminate over different memories—not just of that last year, but of her whole life. The last months are among the most memorable because it seemed that every single one of those days, we had each committed our lives to living more purposefully. The beautiful irony of that intentionality is that it really wasn’t a significant shift for my mom or for any of the rest of us kids and dad. We lived the years leading up to her diagnosis with the same sense of service, compassion, and laughter—we were just more keenly aware of the limited time we had together after the diagnosis.

And today, as I think back on Mom and all that has happened from that last day with her till now, I am filled with joy and gratitude—her memory reminds each of us to stay on purpose, remember family, and look out for the needs for others. I pray that as the years keep rolling forward, that the rest of us who knew her will continue to live in that same spirit, and maybe that our lives will be a small piece of encouragement to others as well.

Reflection: Rend Collective Concert, Joy, And Music

Last Thursday, Jamie and I took an impromptu trip to Chestnut Ridge Church in Morgantown, West Virginia to see a band that our good friend Hallé had told us about a few years back, Rend Collective. Little did we realize when Hallé told us about this Irish folk band that their music was already a regular part of our weekly worship gatherings among our local faith community. 

As we arrived, I found myself thinking about how music has changed over the last hundred years, and even over the last ten years. Thanks to apps like Spotify, Pandora, and Apple Music we can stream a wide array of music on our computers and mobile devices wherever we go. I remember when I acquired my first Mac, I was so impressed that I could take all of my compact discs and place them on my computer. I remember as a small child being tremendously excited about listening to eight-tracks with my parents at home, and by the time I was in junior high, I was able to listen to cassettes with my Walkman as I walked around the neighborhood, or even around the house. Mine was one with the ability to record, play radio music, and cassettes, and I can remember having a ton of fun listening to tunes.

But this wasn't always the way music was available. It's kind of hard to fathom because nowadays our favorite artists' music is readily accessible. But there was once a time when music could only be experienced live--our only way to experience music was to go to a concert, or to make it ourselves. As I listened to the band, they invited us to join in singing, clapping, snapping fingers and dancing. They were inviting us to experience the joy of music. Music is quite the gift!

As much as I enjoy listening to music of various genres, I tend to believe that music is best rendered as something we experience. I believe it was John Cage who said that once we record it, it ceases to be music--it is not able to be experienced in the same way as when it is live. It is the energy of a past moment that may be powerful as a memory, but it is a far different experience than making or creating music in the moment. 

As we enjoyed the evening with the band's performance, and as the members of the band switched rapidly among instruments that even included garbage cans, they were encouraging us to enter into the joy of song, singing praises to the Creator of the universe, and not allowing our cynic or our inner critic to rob us of laughter and joy. At one point in one of their songs, the lights went out and they were wearing panda heads. Later that evening they talked about how the Bible references both fruit of the Spirit and gifts of the Spirit and that seriousness does not make an appearance in either list. Making music invites us into the realm of joy, and they felt that panda heads while performing were a good reminder to the people who joined them at the concert to not fill their lives with seriousness. 

Growing up, even though I don't remember either of my parents playing an instrument, they encouraged us to sing, to play music, and to be joyful. It was never a command from them, it was more of a simple way of life for all of us. At some point in time before I was born, my dad and one of my uncles used to drive a garbage truck. They would regularly find treasures along the side of the road that people were ridding themselves of. One of those treasures was an electric organ. I have many vivid memories of plugging that organ in, and listening to a fan begin to spin; the keys on the organ forced the air through to create notes of music. Dad had also acquired a couple of song books for this organ that were numerically coded, so I could follow the numbers to play songs. This was before the advent of synthesizers and keyboards in the 80s. I don't believe anyone in our family ever became a piano player, but I can remember playing Christmas carols and other songs as Dad made home-made pizzas or Mom was making some meal for us all to enjoy. 

Even on my tribal grounds, we never really listened to recorded music. We made music. Our tribal drum was like a heart beat. Our ancient songs connected us with past generations, and brought forth traditions to a new generation. Every gathering had a time for music and a time for folks to circle around a fire as drumming and singing would begin and carry on often late into the evenings. Even during times of sadness, singing, drumming, and dancing, listening and creating music that echoed through the hills had (and still has) a power to move us toward deep joy, peace, and hope. 

Lots of memories came to my mind thanks to the experience of a concert with Rend Collective for sure. Music is such a huge gift, and, while Jamie and I definitely enjoy listening to music as we go through our days, there's nothing quite like experiencing it live with others, or creating music of our own. Even as I write this, I feel a tug toward spending a little more time during my daily and weekly rhythm singing, dancing, and playing guitar. Nothing like a little live tune amid the rhythm of life!

As we go about our days, our weeks, and our years, may we each take time to make music and invite others to join us in joy-filled songs. May we create, build, and share in the gift the King of the universe has given us in living amid music! 

Reflection: A Long Obedience In The Same Direction

Today, celebrates the twenty-first anniversary of a special day for me. While I remember the event and the occasion clearly, I think I'm more aware of the changes the time wrought in me. In many ways they were unanticipated and unexpected, and honestly they have been pivotal in shaping me into the person I am today.

I was attending an inter-tribal gathering at a 4-H camp, Camp Muffly, near Morgantown. I was the president of the Organization for Native American Interests (ONAI) at WVU, and our group was invited to this gathering. It was my junior year at WVU. My good friend, Matt Thorn (ONAI's VP), had let me borrow his tent as me and my other friend Reza Marvashti would be camping for the weekend and representing our group. We were going to be connecting and spending time with members of the local indigenous community and exploring opportunities to serve. And that happened, but something more transformative and unexpected also happened that weekend. I became a Christian.

I had engaged in many conversations about faith and Christianity over the years with friends and family members, but when I came to college, I would say that I became a deep searcher. I really wanted to know God, and I wanted to live my life for Him. But the funny thing about it is that I didn't really grow up in church. I do feel like my family had a number of rich traditions grounded in a deep sense of right and wrong, but I don't think I gave a lot of thought to the why of those traditions.

But in college, I had a number of friends who were starting to explore a life of faith, and in their explorations, they were seeking to live out what they were learning. These weren't people who just attended a religious gathering on Sundays, but they were daily people of prayer and they were daily reading and applying the sacred text. And as admirable as their discipline was, I thought it was misplaced, and honestly, I was pretty judgmental of Christians--the irony was that I thought they were judgmental.

But that all changed on a weekend in November 1994 at Camp Muffly. To be clear, there wasn't an altar call or someone nudging me toward a decision--it was not what people refer to as a 'revival' weekend or 'camp-meeting'. For reasons that only God knows, he was choosing this particular weekend to illuminate to me His deep love for me, and that the very thing I had been searching for was Him. I had been praying earnestly for months that the Creator of the universe would reveal His truth to me and lead me in living out the ultimate purpose for my life. In all of my considerations about a life of faith, I was reticent to think about Christianity, but, that weekend, I found myself more and more convinced that Jesus was the person who I was looking for.  That somehow, there was something powerful about His death and resurrection, that in Him was hope, light, life, and redemption, and more importantly I was growing more and more cognizant that I was a sinner and I was in desperate need of the Savior. There were a few conversations that happened that weekend with various tribal leaders and friends that touched on areas of faith, but that was not the center of the purpose of the gathering. The gathering was about service and community among native people.

And yet, God was reaching out to me, and letting me know that I was loved. More than that, he was impressing upon me that my ultimate purpose was to be found in love. That my highest purpose was to love God with all of my heart, mind, soul, and strength, and in the wake of that love, that I was to love my neighbor as myself, and further, that there is no greater love than this, that a man would lay down his life for his friends.

The weekend of November 11-13, 1994, I began to walk in obedience to this radical love, forgiveness, and mercy I received from Jesus. I became a Christian. And from that point in time I have been continually blessed with an amazing group of fellow sojourners on the journey, mentors and spiritual guides who have helped me to grow in my discernment and my capacity and desire to serve, and a deep and abiding relationship with my Creator who relentlessly loves me, forgives me, leads me, and guides me to be the best version of myself that I can be, and to be an ambassador of the love, mercy, forgiveness, and restoration that can be found in Him.

As I celebrate this 21st year of life in Christ, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the ways that God has given me a greater capacity to love, and a greater desire to keep following His gentle but strong leadership as I seek to make the most of my limited time on this earth. And my prayer is that we would all grow more deeply aware of incredible love, mercy, and hope that are continually being extended to us by the Creator of the universe.

Remembering September 11, 2001

I woke up this morning, and I felt an overwhelming compulsion to write. Yesterday, I attended the WVU football game, and mixed throughout the game were a variety of points for reflection, for singing, for remembering, and for grieving the events that changed our country and the world on September 11, 2001.

I remember so vividly ten years ago. I was working as an analytical chemist at what was then the world's largest generic drug manufacturer in the world, Mylan Pharmaceuticals. We were listening to a small radio when the music was interrupted with an announcement that brought our work to a temporary halt. A plane had just flown into the top of one of the towers at the world trade center. We all continued working as discovery after discovery was made. A second plane flew into the other tower. We then were confirmed that this was not an accident, but a deliberate attack on a symbol of our nation's financial wealth. An attack that took thousands of lives.

And as the day progressed, we all continued our work in the lab, and were shocked as more and more news came over the radio. Four planes in total. The third flew into the pentagon, and the fourth landed in a field about an hour away from us. As the work day ended, I invited all of my coworkers who wanted to come to join me in our break room for a short time of prayer. None of us were sure what exactly had happened, but we all felt a desire to cry out for answers, and to intercede and help, the best we knew how, on behalf of the people who had lost their loved ones, and on behalf of those who were first responders across our world.

I had planned on giving my two weeks notice on September 12th, 2001. I was starting a new career in ministry, but I couldn't leave just yet. Mylan was giving away a proprietary burn ointment to victims in need in the aftermath, and it just happened to be among the drugs I was working to test. I felt that it was my contribution to help in the aftermath.

Our country has gone through a series of changes in the aftermath. I remember flying for the first time as I was starting my new job, and no longer could one go sit at the gates of the airport with family and friends. I miss those days. I have some very special and emotionally loaded memories with being greeted or saying goodbye at my plane's gate. But much more changed for me beyond that.

I feel like I became more keenly aware of issues around the world. My eyes were opened in a far greater way to the hurts of the world, from slavery, to human trafficking, and from political injustice to extreme poverty, I began to see the world through a different lens. Actually, I think many of us did. No longer were problems of the world seen as far away, and not our concern, but rather we began looking for ways to help our neighbors around the globe.

Years later, I made another career change to begin working with my friends at Nuru International.  I was reminded by my friend Jake's Story (in the video above) of just how connected everything is. During his times of service in Force Recon, he saw a connection between terrorism, insurgency, and extreme poverty. He also came face to face with suffering and desperation to which most of us living in the west have no comparison. Those unshakeable visuals have led him and many others to begin working to serve others by equipping them with the tools and resources they need to lead their communities out of the desperate conditions of extreme poverty.

And so, as I remember the events of September 11, 2001, I feel a myriad of emotions. Even yesterday, while attending the football game, I felt a little disoriented. I wanted to be in the moment of celebrating a Mountaineer victory, and then I wanted to be in the moment of grieving and remembering as we took time as a crowd to spend a moment in silence, and allow the memories to flood in. But as I've had time to process it a bit more, I feel overwhelmed by hope.

Why hope? I believe that as much as our world has changed since September 11, 2001, collectively, we have become more caring about our world. Over the last ten years, I have met several people who have been willing to leave lucrative careers in an effort to dedicate their lives to the service of others. I have also seen more and more people become generous with their hard-earned income in a challenging economy, because they see the needs of others, and they want to help their neighbors, whether locally or globally.

Our eyes have shed many tears since that fateful day, and they have been opened to tragedy after tragedy, but they have also been opened to hope and dream of a better world, and to put forth the effort to change those dreams into reality. As you and I remember the events of 2001, may we be filled with the desire and the discipline to be part of creating a better world.

Margaret Matinde: A Nuru International Story of A Changed Life

As I mentioned in a post last week, Nuru has put together an online interactive annual report that includes two videos. Last week, I shared a video that told the story of Elias Sinda and how his life had changed as a result of Nuru’s work. 

This week I wanted to post a second video that tells a different story, the story of Margaret Matinde. Margaret’s story is not all that uncommon in Kuria. She lives in a home made from mud and thatch, and works hard to take care of her family. Because noone had ever quipped her with the tools and knowledge necessary to learn to save, her family rarely had money to help meet basic needs, and couldn’t afford to send her children to school

When Nuru came into the community, Margaret (and many, many others) participated in savings clubs. In these savings clubs they learned to save, budget, and invest their resources wisely. As a result of Margaret’s diligence and discipline in saving, she qualified for a small loan from Nuru and she used this money to start a business—a restaurant. Now, it’s not what people in the west are accustomed to when it comes to a ‘restaurant’ but it is an incredible example of local business and local entrepreneurship helping to meet needs in a community.

As a result of Margaret’s successful business, she can now afford to send her children to school, which in turn means that her children will have even more opportunities for a better life. Margaret learned how to do business, and she learned how to save and plan for her family’s future.

I love the fact that we have stories like Margaret’s and Elias’ that we can share. And there are many more people in Kuria who, just like them, are experiencing hope, choices, and opportunities that they would have never dreamed of before Nuru. If you have been volunteering, fundraising, or donating to Nuru, you have been playing a key role in helping Margaret, Elias, and thousands of other people to write these stories, and to have a new outlook for their future.

Our work is just beginning, but together we are making a difference in the world as we work to create a world where people in extreme poverty have choices and hope where there was once desperation and despair. Together, we are ending extreme poverty, one community at a time!

World Malaria Day 2011 and the Nuru Healthcare Worker Model

The video above chronicles the beginnings of the Nuru International Community Health Worker(CHW) Model--which is currently doing amazing work in Kuria, Kenya. Just a few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to see how the model works first hand by traveling with a Nuru Healthcare Field Officer.

During the months of March and April, a big focus for Nuru's CHW program has been Malaria. Malaria is a preventable ailment that takes the lives of 2,300 people daily around the globe. Sixteen percent of children under five in Africa die because of malaria. Imagine dying from a mosquito bite. When I was a little boy, my body would be covered with welts from mosquitos, and even as an adult, no-see-ums love to attack me. Had I been born in a different longitude and latitude, I would probably not be alive to write this blog post. At least not unless someone had educated my family with regard to malaria prevention.

And that's just what the Nuru CHW's have been doing in villages all through Kuria, Kenya. They visit people's homes and talk to them about what causes malaria, what the symptoms of malaria are, and how malaria can be treated. More importantly, during this time, they talk about how malaria can be prevented.

That's the good news, malaria can be prevented. With proper use of a bed net, malaria risk is significantly lowered. While everyone can benefit from this knowledge, the groups at highest risk are children under five and pregnant mothers, and so Nuru is working specifically to help these at risk populations. As CHWs travel from house to house, they not only talk about the benefits of bed nets for malaria prevention, but they also sell bed nets at a low cost to families. This assigns a value to the net, and it also saves a family the challenge of traveling to a town or medical center to purchase this low cost malaria intervention. The health workers also walk through how to properly use a bed net and even how to repair a net if it becomes torn. If someone doesn't know how to use or repair a tool then it will do them very little good.

Nuru's focus on prevention through a CHW model via sales of bednets as an intervention, particularly for pregnant mothers and children under five sets the organization in a unique category for stemming the tide against malaria.

As I write this post, I find myself reflecting back on my childhood, and the mosquito bites that would appear on my arms on summer nights, and I am thankful that families in Kuria, Kenya, are now equipped with the tools to prevent malaria.

Will you help Nuru continue to empower even more families with tools and knowledge to prevent malaria and so much more? Also, if you'd like to learn more about our CHW program and our work to fight malaria, check out this great article in the San Francisco Chronicle. Thanks for being part of lasting change for the people of Kuria, Kenya.

Every Face Tells A Story

Prop Event #001: Every Face Tells A Story from thePROP on Vimeo.

That was the theme for the first major event for “The Prop” a non-profit dedicated to connecting people doing good.  This group of artists and “everyday creatives” calls the greater Chicago Illinois area home, and, they do some pretty amazing stuff.

The prop loves to host events that connect people to great artists and great causes.  And they chose Nuru International as the first cause they would share with their people.  On September 23^rd, 2010 several artists and art lovers converged in downtown Chicago to share in the first ever event for the Prop.

The event was an art installation featuring the human face called, “Every Face Tells a Story,” and 50% of proceeds from the sale of art went to fund Nuru’s work in Kuria, Kenya.  Members of Nuru’s communications team visited the event, and Nuru Partnerships Director Nicole Scott shared a brief explanation of what Nuru does and how people can get involved with the work of ending extreme poverty in Kuria, Kenya and beyond.

The thing I love most about this organization is that they are simply doing what they are good at, and what they love, and they are using their gifts and their passion to not only further their own efforts as artists, but to take their art a step further and encourage individuals to become better global citizens.

Over 150 people came to the prop’s event, and all of them left with a not only an incredible connecting experience to the art, to other people, and to the work of Nuru, but they left with a vision of ways they can take their gifts and passions and use them to bring even more good into the world.

We need more people like Victor Saad and his team at the prop.  We need more people who are living for something more than themselves.  We need more people being Nuru and prop-a-gating light and hope in a world that needs it badly.

Will you choose to prop-a-gate good today?

Speaking Words of Potential

I was six years old and in the first grade when Steve Swisher came to my school to speak.  He was the only major league baseball player I know of that came out of my home town of Parkersburg, WV until his son Nick Swisher got picked up by the Oakland A’s.  And now, Nick is playing for the Yankees, but I digress.

I don’t remember a lot about Steve Swisher’s visit except that he signed some people’s baseball cards (I didn’t have any), and he shared some motivational words that have stuck with me ever since. 

It’s kind of wild to think about the things that saturate a young person’s mind.  I can’t remember a lot of my gradeschool experiences, but I remember being in the McKinley Elementary School Cafeteria sitting on the speckled tile floor when Steve encouraged all of us to “Strive to be the best!”  I wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but I knew from everything he shared, that it takes effort and hard work to be the best at anything, and that our number one competitor isn’t other people, but rather ourselves. 

You see, when we strive to be the best, we are striving to become the best version of ourselves that we could possibly be.  And it could just be that the best version of ourselves we could possibly be also happens to be the very best at a skill or a virtue anywhere. 

I don’t really know what prompted Steve Swisher’s visit to McKinley, but I know that his words had an impact on me.  I’ve never met him or his son face-to-face, but his simple phrase has been a source of encouragement in all that I do.  And his words are a reminder of the power of our words in the lives of others around us, both young and old.

When you speak, you can speak words of life or words that tear-down others.  What would happen if each of us chose to speak life-giving words to others, and we sought to inspire others to “Strive to be the best!”?  I have had an opportunity to speak in a few schools during my life in spite of my lack of playing major league (or even high school for that matter) baseball.  Many times when I think about these opportunities, my mind goes back to Steve Swisher, and I think of the possibilities in those classrooms.  I’m potentially speaking to the next MLK or Gandhi, and perhaps someone in the classroom will look back on my visit as a catalytic moment.

We all have these opportunities though.  If you have children, or if your life intersects with another person’s ANYWHERE, you and I can speak words of life that may be a source of strength and hope for others when times get difficult. 

As you go about your day today, be mindful of your opportunities to speak life and hope into the people who are around you. 

May your words be instruments of life and hope, and may they help others realize their potential.