KALILA

From my vantage point, each day I’m given the opportunity to participate in the story of various people’s lives. Sometimes it’s in big ways, sometimes it’s in “small” ways, but the opportunities are there for those that have eyes to see. And often what seems small is actually big in retrospect. Often your participation doubles back as a gift to you. Often you are adopted into an entirely new family just by joining someone else’s story. That’s what happened with Kalila.

Taren, now a friend (family member) of mine, was doing work in Africa and she met Kalila Mahama a quiet and beautiful Ghanaian toddler. Well, American doctors were doing work in Ghana when they diagnosed Kalila with Tetralogy of Fallot (TOF), a congenital heart defect involving 3 or 4 abnormalities in the heart. The doctors said that Kalila had at most weeks to live.

Now, Kalila’s story has a beautiful ending, but I will tell you that I was not most amazed by the people who helped and participated. I was amazed by Taren who decided that such a verdict on the life of Kalila is not acceptable. This type of clarity and love is where I’m most grateful to find beauty. Taren decided that the physical or congenital verdict or ruling given was unjust and she was going to help bend the arrow of the law towards the justice it ideally tries to reach, a justice based in love. I’m always amazed when I find such faith in the world. You see, for Kalila to have the life-saving open-heart surgery she needed, she had to be flown to a place like the United States. Taren moved quickly.

Taren got on her blog and posted the story asking for help and donations. Taren emailed friends in the States and the email went around and around. This is how I first heard of it, through a common friend. When I receive emails like this, though I receive many, they are no-brainers. You help out, you participate, you give, you join in the creation and the saving of life anytime you have the opportunity. It’s the nature of love. It’s the most important thing. So I helped, and we had to raise money not just for the surgery but for travel expenses for Kalila and her parents from Ghana for the duration of the trip. I told Taren I can help more. Soon Rotary joined in helping. Taren raised the money.

Kalila was flown to Indiana, had the surgery, survived, and is thriving. The joy and tears over the whole super-quick process can never be understated. I met with her parents and talked with them and there were no words. Gratitude is written into the lines of their face. . . . indelibly. I don’t want to write too much about it because I do no justice to the lived experience. I wanted you to hear Taren talk about it after they had flown back to Ghana. I include even financial housekeeping at the end of the story because it tells the continuing legacy of everyone who entered into the story.

Dear friends,

Two weeks ago, Mom and I headed to the Indianapolis airport in our van stuffed to the gills with Kalila, her parents, and luggage packed with presents from many of you. Already emotional, we soon found a reason for tears: Faiza, Kalila's mother, told us that, on legs strengthened by regular oxygen flow thanks to the surgery, she had taken her first unaided steps the night before--her very last night in America. Leave it to Kalila to provide us with such a fitting ending to this incredible journey!

It was an eventful last few weeks for Kalila, her family and all of us. Kalila passed her final medical checkup with flying colors; many of you got to meet Kalila and her parents at receptions for donors in both Greencastle and DC (here are some pics from Greencastle, should have DC ones up soon); and the family landed safely back in Ghana. Along with reports of Kalila's continued progress with
walking, her grandfather wrote to us last week to say:

This is time to celebrate and to thank you for this wonderful event; saving the life of Kalila. I do not know where and how to start the Thanksgiving. Americans have a day for Thanksgiving, and Taren gave me a story about it. Our Thanksgiving has a different twist and angle, the bottom line is that you saved a life.... I would like you to thank all your friends, relations and colleagues, who in various ways assisted in this whole process; the numerous generous contributors, your Rotary friends, the doctors and nurses, the newspaper editors, and all, too many to mention. You have to carry our thanks to them on behalf of my family, Samad, Faiza and Kalila.... Our Thanksgiving day is the day of the successful surgery.

To his thanks, as always, Mom and I add ours. We have wonderful friends!

******

Now, some housecleaning:
In total, we received $27,433 in donations to the Kalila Mahama Heart Fund from 202 individuals, couples and/or families in the USA. Because Rotary accepted Kalila into its Gift of Life program, we were able to limit our total expenses for saving her life to $11,025 ($5,000 as our contribution to surgery which actually cost many times that amount, $4,199 for plane tickets, and $1,826 for food, medicine, diapers, and other miscellaneous expenses--see attached spreadsheet), leaving $16,408.

As promised, if you would like the pro-rated remainder of your donation returned to you, please reply to this email and let us know in the next 7 days. At that point, we will donate the rest of the money to Rotary's Gift of Life program, where it will help fund a trip by the same surgical team that performed Kalila's surgery. They will travel to the Middle East to conduct lifesaving heart surgeries for children like Kalila and train local doctors. We've been told that $16,000 will pay for surgery for another 2 or 3 children there, which would be wonderful.

With our heartfelt thanks,

Kelsey and Taren
For more from Taren or to read up on Kalila (from Taren), you can check Taren’s blog.

IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU

There’s a group of four guys trying to live a better story. . . sometimes. They make me laugh. I’ve only seen two episodes, but they’re funny. These four young men decided they would make a list of everything that they ever wanted to do -- whether asinine or inspirational -- and write it down. Then they set out to do every single item on their list. They filmed their journey and story as they did it. MTV heard about them and turned their story into an MTV TV series. It’s called “The Buried Life.” Have you heard of it?

What I love about this group of guys is that each episode, as they try to achieve an item on the list, they also make sure to ask people along the way “What do you want to do before you die?“ And they make sure to help one person they meet achieve one of her goals. So you follow this group of guys having a good time, doing silly stuff, and shooting for their goal while, at the same time, using their resources and energy to help someone achieve his goal. I love this part of the TV show.


The other great part about the show is that they don’t always achieve every item on their list. Sometimes it doesn’t happen. These four gentlemen also taught me that it’s not whether you achieve the goal, but it’s the fact that you tried that matters. One episode I watched showed them trying to play basketball with the President of the United States of America. If you have time, watch them on MTV or on you tube.
I would put a link here, but I’ll let the people who really want to watch them, find them. Ok, I changed my mind. Here’s a link to a trailer, but you’ll have to find an entire episode to watch on one of those episode internet stations.

“The Buried Life” Trailer


There are few more people who are doing work that reminds me of the toilet sprouting flowers in the communal yard, people who have taken it on themselves to be the change they seek, to be the answer to the problem they see.

I work in international development and there are tons of problems with giving money from one government to another (Official Development Assistance - ODA). And it has never been conclusively proven that the 60 years of international aid has been transformative (some countries have transformed but many believe this was not due to aid but other reasons). Given this, I’m always encouraged by people who are not discouraged but engage in work that is actually effective, efficacious, and effectual, though, it’s on a small scale, in one community, or in one life. Will you do me a favor? Will you read this article that illuminates what I’m saying through real examples. Here are people that inspire me, not because they’re superhuman but because they’re human. The author of this article calls it Do-It-Yourself Foreign Aid. I like these people and what they have done. If you don’t have a free NYTimes e-account, get one so you can access it.

The NY Times article

There are examples of such life-giving and creative work all around the world. Here are a few of the people and groups of whom I’ve been learning, studying, and supporting. One of my favorites is the teacher who writes birthday cards.

Gift Card Giver

StoryCorps - Connecting people to share powerful and life-changing stories

Nuru International - Ending extreme poverty

Benched - Building a bench at a busy Atlanta Bus Stop

The Redemption of General Butt Naked - Story of a warlord turned Christian preacher and the question of Justice

A teacher making people feel special one letter at a time

Love 146 - Child Sex Slavery (Scroll down to see the video)

Story - Find your passion and shout it from the rooftops

Tell Your Story - Texas A&M Leadership Forum

Invisible Children -
Invisible Children Video
Another Invisible Children Video

Charity Water Video URL

GOD IS NOT ONE

People always say that all religions are the same or they say “basically” the same. Some people, usually Christians, disagree (Christianity tends to be exclusive, as I have grown up understanding it). I understand both sides. There are commonalities, specifically in ethics and morals between many religions. But the framing narrative of religions is different and the goals of the many religions are different.


Stephen Prothero, a Boston professor, wrote a book by the title “God Is Not One” about 8 of the world’s religions. He says in Islam, the problem is pride, and the solution is submission; in Buddhism, the problem is suffering, and the solution is awakening; in Judaism, the problem is exile, the solution is returning to God; Confucianism, the problem is chaos and the solution is social order; in Christianity, the problem is sin, and the solution is salvation. Though I liked his realization that there are different narratives in each of these religions, I disagreed with his framing of Christianity. I think he did a great job with understanding traditional Christianity but if it’s about following Jesus, I’m pretty sure that is way more than just about sin and “salvation.” It’s a common and prevalent misinterpretation of Jesus in the West. I think Christianity, if it is following Jesus, is probably closer to the Jewish framework--can you imagine that! We don’t call it the Judeo-Christian tradition for nothing. But I would still word it differently. I’m in a story-mood during this update. So let me share one.



In a world where following Christ is decreed to be a subversive and illegal activity, you have been accused of being a believer, arrested, and dragged before a court.

You have been under clandestine surveillance for some time now, and so the prosecution has been able to build up quite a case against you. They begin the trial by offering the judge dozens of photographs that show you attending church meetings, speaking at religious events, and participating in various prayer and worship services. After this, they present a selection of items that have been confiscated from your home: religious books that you own, worship CDs, and other Christian artifacts. Then they step up the pace by displaying many of the poems, pieces of prose, and journal entries that you had lovingly written concerning your faith. Finally, in closing, the prosecution offers your Bible to the judge. This is a well-worn book with scribbles, notes, drawings, and underlinings throughout, evidence, if it were needed, read and re-read this sacred text many times.

Throughout the case you have been sitting silently in fear and trembling. You know deep in your heart that with the large body of evidence that has been amassed by the prosecution you face the possibility of a long imprisonment or even execution. At various times throughout the proceedings, you have lost all confidence and have been on the verge of standing up and denying Christ. But while this thought has plagued your mind throughout the trial, you resist the temptation and remain focused.

Once the prosecution has finished presenting their case the judge proceeds to ask if you have anything to add, but you remain silent and resolute, terrified that if you open your mouth, even for a moment, you might deny the charges made against you. Like Christ, you remain silent before your accusers. In response you are led outside to wait as the judge ponders your case.

The hours pass slowly as you sit under guard in the foyer waiting to be summoned back. Eventually a young man in uniform appears and leads you into the courtroom so that you may hear the verdict and receive word of your punishment. Once you have been seated in the dock the judge, a harsh and unyielding man, enters the room, stands before you, looks deep into your eyes and begins to speak.

“Of the charges that have been brought forward I find the accused not guilty.”

“Not guilty?” your heart freezes. Then, in a split second, the fear and terror that had moments before threatened to strip your resolve are swallowed up by confusion and rage.

Despite the surroundings, you stand defiantly before the judge and demand that he give an account concerning why you are innocent of the charges in light of the evidence.

“What evidence?” he replies in shock.

“What about the poems and prose that I wrote?” you reply.

“They simply show that you think of yourself as a poet, nothing more.”

“But what about the services I spoke at, the times I wept in church and the long sleepless nights of prayer?”

“Evidence that you are a good speaker and actor, nothing more,” replied the judge. “It is obvious that you deluded those around you, and perhaps at times you even deluded yourself, but this foolishness is not enough to convict you in a court of law.”

“But this is madness!” you shout. “It would seem that no evidence would convince you!”

“Not so,” replies the judge as if informing you of a great, long-forgotten secret.

“The court is indifferent toward your Bible reading and church attendance; it has no concern for worship with words and a pen. Continue to develop your theology, and use it to paint pictures of love. We have no interest in such armchair artist who spend their time creating images of a better world. We exist only for those who would lay down their brush, and their life, in a Christlike endeavor to create a better world. So, until you live as Christ and his followers did, until you challenge this system and become a thorn in our side, until you die to yourself and offer your body to the flames, until then, my friend, you are no enemy of ours.”





Here, I hesitate to interpret or comment as I might lead you one way; there are many layers. I almost added to the story, but I know the author of the story, a philosopher named Peter Rollins, would not object. I could have added that the person, the defendant, had been a righteous (really blameless man) or that people who had been convicted had been people who had sinned (I guess we all have according to the definition). But my point is that the court (in this story) isn’t interested in personal, private piety. The judge might say, “That just shows you’re a personally good person with morals but not Christlike in that you are systematically against systems, communing with the excluded and the least of these.” Great story.


That is the first story in a book of modern-day (I call them parables) stories by Peter Rollins. It’s called “Orthodox Heretic.”

LIVING A BETTER STORY

I’m meeting with a group of friends who are reading a book called “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years,” but we’re only discussing the book during 2 of 10 or 12 sessions. We’re mostly concerned with living a better story. Most people see life as a story. But they think you have a great story if you’ve been through some great tragedy or drama and have come out a winner. I think what we’re doing is a bit different. We and the book talk about living a better story even when nothing is wrong, in times of peace, at least on the outside. In other words, is it possible to live a great story without huge drama and why does it matter?

We’ve been giving an assignment. We’re talking about the importance of knowing what you want and wanting the right things. I have to ask people what they believe I want and see if it matches up with what I say or think I want. What do you believe I want in life? If you have an answer will you e-mail back please? You need not spend hours of time. It can be a simple or quick response. Thanks!

I’m not in the writing mood this week, so here is a story to explicate what it means to live a better story.



“A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” by Donald Miller
Chapter 9 Excerpt
How Jason Saved His Family

When I got back from Los Angeles, I got together with my friend Jason who has a thirteen-year-old daughter. He was feeling down because he and his wife had found pot hidden in their daughter’s closet. She was dating a guy, too, a kid who smelled like smoke, and only answered questions with single words: “Yeah,” “No,” “Whatever,” and “Why?” And “Why?” was the answer Jason hated most. Have her home by ten, Jason would say. Why the guy would ask. Jason figured this guy was the reason his daughter was experimenting with drugs.

“You thinking about grounding her?” I asked. “Not allowing her to date him?”

“We’ve tried that. But it’s gotten worse.” Jason shook his head and fidgeted his fingers on the table.

Then I said something that caught his attention. I said his daughter was living a terrible story.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

To be honest, I didn’t know exactly what I meant. I probably wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t just returned from the McKee seminar. But I told him about the stuff I’d learned, that the elements of a story involve a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it. Even as I said this, I wasn’t sure how it applied to his daughter.

“Go on,” my friend said.

“I don’t know, exactly, but she’s just not living a very good story. She’s caught up in a bad one.” I said a lot of other things, and he kept asking questions. We must have talked for an hour or more, just about story, about how novels work and why some movies are meaningful and others simply aren’t. I didn’t think much of it. I just figured he was curious about movies.

A couple of months later I ran into Jason and asked about his daughter. “She’s better,” he said to me smiling. And when I asked why, he told me his family was living a better story.
* * *

That night after we talked, Jason couldn’t sleep. He thought about the story his daughter was living and the role she was playing inside that story. He realized he hadn’t provided a better role for his daughter. He hadn’t mapped out a story for his family. And so his daughter had chosen another story, a story in which she was wanted, even if she was only being used. In the absence of a family story, she’d chosen a story in which there was risk and adventure, rebellion and independence. “She’s not a bad girl,” my friend said. “She was just choosing the best story available to her.”

I pictured his daughter flipping through the channels of life, as it were, stopping on a story that seemed most compelling at the moment, a story that offered her something, anything because people can’t live without a story, without a role to play.

“So how did you get her out of it?” I asked. And I couldn’t believe what he told me next.

Jason decided to stop yelling at his daughter and, instead, created a better story to invite her into. He remembered that a story involves a character who wants something and overcomes a conflict to get it.

“I started researching some stuff on the internet,” Jason said, “and I came across an organization that builds orphanages around the world. And that sounded to me like a pretty good ambition, something maybe my family could try to do together. It sounded like a good story.”

“Right,” I said, trying to remember the elements of story myself.

“So I called this organization,” Jason continued, “and it takes about twenty-five thousand dollars to build one of these orphanages. And the truth is, we don’t have the money. I mean we just took out a second mortgage. But I knew if we were going to tell a good story, it would have to involve risk.”

“That’s true,” I said, remembering it from the seminar.

“So I went home and called a family meeting,” my friend continued. “I didn’t tell my wife first, which it turns out was a mistake. But I told them about this village and about the orphanage and all these terrible things that could happen if these kids don’t get an orphanage. Then I told them I agreed to build it.”

“You’re kidding me,” I said.

“No, I’m not. And my wife sat there looking at me like I’d lost my mind. And my daughter, her eyes were as big as melons and she wasn’t happy. She knew this would mean she’d have to give up her allowance and who knows what else. They just sat there in silence. And the longer they sat there, the more I wondered if I’d lost my mind too.”

“I actually think you might have lost your mind,” I said, feeling somewhat responsible.

“Well, maybe so,” Jason said, looking away for a second with a smile. “But it’s working out. I mean things are getting pretty good, Don.”

Jason went on to explain that his wife and daughter went back to their separate rooms and neither of them talked to him. His wife was rightly upset that he hadn’t mentioned anything to her. But that night while they were lying in bed, he explained the whole story thing, about how they weren’t taking risks and weren’t helping anybody and how their daughter was losing interest.

“The next day,” he said, “Annie came to me while I was doing the dishes.” He collected his words. “Things had just been tense for the last year, Don. I haven’t told you everything. But my wife came to me and put her arms around me and leaned her face into the back of my neck and told me she was proud of me.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“I’m not,” my friend said. “Don, I hadn’t heard Annie say anything like that in years. I told her I was sorry I didn’t talk to her about it, that I just got excited. She said she forgave me, but that it didn’t matter. She said we had an orphanage to build, and that were probably going to make bigger mistakes, but we would build it.” My friend smiled as he remembered his wife’s words.

“And then Rachel came into our bedroom, maybe a few days later, and asked if we could go to Mexico. Annie and I just sort of looked at her and didn’t know what to say. So then Rachel crawled between us in bed like she did when she was little. She said she could talk about the orphanage on her web site and maybe people could help. She could post pictures. She wanted to go to Mexico to meet the kids and take pictures for her Web site.”

“That’s incredible,” I said.

“You know what else, man?” Jason said. “She broke up with her boyfriend last week. She had his picture on her dresser and took it down and told me he said she was too fat. Can you believe that? What a jerk.”

“A jerk,” I agreed.

“But that’s done now,” Jason said, shaking his head. “No girl who plays the role of a hero dates a guy who uses her. She knows who she is. She just forgot for a little while.”







Actually even if someone isn’t a Donald Miller fan, then you’ll probably still like this book. The guy leading our group discussion, for instance, is not a fan but raves about this book. The leader, a friend of mine, is a storyteller, himself; he uses film. The husband-wife relationship tugs at my heart strings more than the focus of the story (the relationship with the daughter) because of the commitment made between them and because their relationship affects the relationship with the daughter; a marriage is a creative relationship. The part in the story that gets me is that even after his wife hadn’t said anything like “I’m proud of you” in years, even though he had a bad year with her, even though his daughter was very distant from him and yelling and punishments made it worse, things changed. Things could change and they did; the relationship with his wife was redeemed . The relationship with his daughter was redeemed, and it was redeemed through a better story. Go read the book.