Waiting

Let me tell you something you probably already know: waiting stinks.

Waiting for your oil to be changed, waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting for the bus.

Waiting for a company to post an opening, waiting for a manager to want you on her team, waiting for the phone to ring.

Waiting for someone on the other side of the world to say, "I've never met you but I love you."

As of when I'm writing this, there are 407 Compassion children who have been waiting, waiting, waiting for more than 180 days for a sponsor. That's six months or longer.

Where were you 180 days ago? That would have been September 2, 2011.

A forgettable day, perhaps? Too long ago to remember?

Not for Walson. One-hundred-and-eighty-three days ago Walson was at a Compassion Child Development Center in Haiti signing up to be a sponsored child. Walson has spent the last 183 days waiting for a sponsor.


Sponsor Walson here
His child ID number: HA8150328

On the Compassion website, the children that have been waiting for more than 180 days are marked with a heart.

It seems only appropriate.

When you're waiting, you need someone to love you and love on your. With every day of waiting, hope seems to dwindle.

Two-hundred-and-ninety-five days ago I walked across a stage and received the most important piece of paper of my life so far. Having spent almost 300 days unemployed/underemployed, I understand waiting. It's miserable.

There are things I can do (am doing) to bring my wait to an end. I can pray, pray, cry, and pray. I can network, I can apply for jobs, I can make cold-calls.

When you're waiting for a sponsor, there's not much you can do but wait and pray.

I've been waiting in hope.

These children are waiting for hope.

For fresh water. For medical care. For education. For someone to say, "I believe in you."

These 407 children waiting for sponsors want to be wanted. They need to be wanted. They deserve to be wanted, to be cared for, to be loved.

During my days of waiting, I've had so many great friends pray for me, offer suggestions, and pull me into their arms as I cry again. They've loved, encouraged, and held me. I appreciate every single one of them! (Yes, even the job suggestions that don't fit my skill set).

This is my plea: do the same for a child.

In turn, you're doing it for me.

The words "Thank you!" don't seem sufficient. If you decide to sponsor a longest waiting child (which I hope you do!) Compassion will give you a scrapbook for you to use to keep your letters, photos, et al.

What are you waiting for?
<>< Katie

Why Not Today?

"You need a new phone."

I've been told that regularly for the last two years. They're right: I do need a new phone. When I started college the question was always, "Is that the new model?" Now that I've graduated, same phone in pocket, the question has become "When do you get an upgrade?"

They want me to make the leap into the twenty-first century and go from a dumb phone that only texts and calls to a smart phone that does everything except brush your teeth for you.

"With as much time as you spend on Facebook and Twitter, you're going to love it!"

That's what they all say. And they're probably right. I wish I could Tweet on the go, always had my email at my fingertips, and my text message inbox didn't remain at 98 percent full. The upgrade won't break my budget and the thirty dollars a month data plan is feasible.

Weeks of second-guessing and questioning led up to the moment when I signed the check. Knowing full well what I was doing, I handed it to Brent. He handed me a receipt.

Smile* was mine.

My check was not for thirty dollars. It was for thirty-eight. If I could feasibly pay thirty dollars a month just to have the internet with me wherever I went, how could I not spend thirty-eight dollars a month making sure a child had food?

For years I have been the primary letter writer for Maria, our family's sponsored child in Columbia. That means the misunderstanding about us having fourteen grandchildren... yeah, I'm culpable.

I knew someday I'd sponsor a child through Compassion. The question that ragged on my heart was: Why is that someday not today? I was out of excuses.

For a dollar and twenty-five cents a day, I can provide Smile with food. That's not even the cost of one cup of coffee. That's one small fries from McDonald's.

Let's be real: I don't have a lot of money. But I have enough. I'm not worrying about going hungry. Smile is.

Katie: God, why are you providing for me but not for Your children in third world countries? Is food not a necessity?
God: I am providing. Katie, I am providing you.

It's going to be a sacrifice. I want (borderline need) a new phone, but it's going to have to wait.

There's a little girl in El Salvador who needs an education. She needs medical care. She needs hope, esperanza. She needs to know someone cares. That someone is an unemployed hispanohablante in the US. That Someone is her Heavenly Father.

Why not today?
<>< Katie

*not her real name

PS: This is my story of how God led me to child sponsorship through Compassion. It might be reckless to commit to $38/month with no income. But I know the Lord and saw His hand in this decision long before I signed the check. I trust He will provide, and I've seen Him do so already. If that means I have to eat peanut butter and jelly for a week (I hate pbj) so Smile can eat rice and beans, so be it.

Esperanza

Ann Voskamp wrote this beautiful blog post entitled "When You Are in Desperate Need of Hope" contrasting an Ecuadorian girl named Lidia waiting for a sponsor through Compassion and the joy of finally getting one.  She wrote about being picked by hope.

Esperanza, she sprinkles in.  The word hope, coming from the verb esperar.

Esperar, the Spanish verb for to hope.

Esperar, the Spanish verb for to wait.

I remember learning esperar, struggling to spell it and struggling to remember both of its meanings.  They seemed like a weird combination.

Then "Esperanza" became the name belonging to the protagonist of my thesis. (The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros) Daily I wrote about Esperanza and her multicultural struggling. I know all about Esperanza's struggle with her name: too many letters, sadness, waiting.

Yet today, "esperar" is hope and, in it, waiting.

To hope for something means you're waiting for it. Nine years after first learning the word, the light bulb clicked.

I remember some of my current favorite verses:

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends.  His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin anew each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will hope in Him!'" Lamentations 3:21-24 NLT

What if I took it upon myself to translate that word differently?  (If it makes you feel better, I looked it up in Hebrew: yachal, it also has the connotation of "waiting" that the word "hope" loses in English).

"Yet I still dare to WAIT when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin anew each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will WAIT in Him." Lamentations 3:21-24 (emphasis mine)

The same promise. A new spin.

Hopeful yet waiting.
Hopeful in His; waiting on (and in) Him.

That's what I want. Nothing else.

<>< Katie