Have you ever read the Jesus Worldwide posts and wished you could keep up with a missionary or team while on the field rather than waiting until they return?
Well, pack your bags and come with me!
There's a team of Compassion Bloggers in Tanzania right now. Even though I'm eating food my stomach enjoys, sleeping days and nights the American way, and not taking anti-malaria medicine (rejoice!), I'm in Tanzania... mentally.
Follow their journey here:
Blogs
Twitter
Let me introduce you to the team:
The Nester who met Hospitality in Tanzania.
Kelli thinks Minivans are Hot and she's not callous to the amazing work of Compassion.
Gussy's purpose is stitched up in Him.
Scott has a watch that the children are mesmerized by.
Amy's learning to hope like a child.
Jolanthe is looking at the practical things Compassion is doing.
Team leader Shaun Groves is building a Third World Dictionary.
Team leader Keely's got an amazing eye for photography.
Don't just take my word for it. Go check out their blogs.
And consider sponsoring a child in Tanzania.
<>< Katie
PS: If you have a story to tell and want to brag on how God is working around the globe, I'd love to hear it. KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com.
Showing posts with label Compassion Blogger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Compassion Blogger. Show all posts
Monday, May 7, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
World Malaria Day
If you've never slept under mosquito netting, it's a weird sensation. It's kind of entrapping but also kind of nice because it means the mosquitoes are out there and you're in here. I used to do it when we went camping.
Mumu sleeps under mosquito netting every night.
If you've never taken anti-malaria medicine, it's a weird sensation. First, the look on people's faces when you tell them you're taking medicine for malaria is priceless. Second, the nausea that accompanies it is very much unpleasant.
During college, I spent a month studying abroad in what the CDC declared a malaria risk area of Costa Rica. Which meant every Tuesday for nine weeks, I choked down a nasty pink pill that stole my appetite and left me feeling miserable.
Every Tuesday I regretted being cautious and going to the travel doctor before my trip. (Yes, I now do a happy dance when I'm traveling somewhere and don't have to take chloroquine).
Every Tuesday, I regretted arguing with the pharmacist to get five pills when my insurance only wanted me to have four for the first filling. ("I can't come get a refill while I'm in Costa Rica.")
Every Tuesday, I remembered that I could not give blood for a year.
Every Tuesday I remembered how truly blessed I am.
I had access to a doctor whose primary job is to educate travelers like me on tips for living abroad and things to carry in their own personal pharmacy (most of which I actually used).
I had access to medicine to prevent a disease that kills one child every thirty to forty-five seconds. (How long has it taken you to read this? I bet more than thirty seconds).
I had more Off! than I'd ever need just to keep those pesky mosquitoes away from my medicated blood.
Any mosquito bites I did get, were just annoying and itchy not life-threatening.
I didn't have to worry about suffering from a completely preventable, treatable disease.
I care about malaria.
If the medication to prevent it made me feel so nasty, I can't imagine what the disease itself must be like.
To many people around the world, the horrors of malaria are not just imagined but rather a very real, cruel reality they face every day.
Organizations like Lutheran Malaria Initiative and Compassion are bringing hope and help to people in malaria risk-areas.
You can help by sponsoring a child in a malaria risk area.
You can help by purchasing mosquito netting for people living in Africa.
You can help by spreading the word about malaria.
You can help by praying for the people living (and traveling) in malaria risk areas.
Thank you!
<>< Katie
(Yes, I'm a Compassion Blogger which means sometimes they send me post suggestions. This was not one of them).
Mumu sleeps under mosquito netting every night.
If you've never taken anti-malaria medicine, it's a weird sensation. First, the look on people's faces when you tell them you're taking medicine for malaria is priceless. Second, the nausea that accompanies it is very much unpleasant.
During college, I spent a month studying abroad in what the CDC declared a malaria risk area of Costa Rica. Which meant every Tuesday for nine weeks, I choked down a nasty pink pill that stole my appetite and left me feeling miserable.
Every Tuesday I regretted being cautious and going to the travel doctor before my trip. (Yes, I now do a happy dance when I'm traveling somewhere and don't have to take chloroquine).
Every Tuesday, I regretted arguing with the pharmacist to get five pills when my insurance only wanted me to have four for the first filling. ("I can't come get a refill while I'm in Costa Rica.")
Every Tuesday, I remembered that I could not give blood for a year.
Every Tuesday I remembered how truly blessed I am.
I had access to a doctor whose primary job is to educate travelers like me on tips for living abroad and things to carry in their own personal pharmacy (most of which I actually used).
I had access to medicine to prevent a disease that kills one child every thirty to forty-five seconds. (How long has it taken you to read this? I bet more than thirty seconds).
I had more Off! than I'd ever need just to keep those pesky mosquitoes away from my medicated blood.
Any mosquito bites I did get, were just annoying and itchy not life-threatening.
I didn't have to worry about suffering from a completely preventable, treatable disease.
I care about malaria.
If the medication to prevent it made me feel so nasty, I can't imagine what the disease itself must be like.
To many people around the world, the horrors of malaria are not just imagined but rather a very real, cruel reality they face every day.
Organizations like Lutheran Malaria Initiative and Compassion are bringing hope and help to people in malaria risk-areas.
You can help by sponsoring a child in a malaria risk area.
You can help by purchasing mosquito netting for people living in Africa.
You can help by spreading the word about malaria.
You can help by praying for the people living (and traveling) in malaria risk areas.
Thank you!
<>< Katie
(Yes, I'm a Compassion Blogger which means sometimes they send me post suggestions. This was not one of them).
Friday, March 2, 2012
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.
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
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 |
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
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