Yes, we can choose
At the base of a volcano in the middle of Lake Nicaragua, there is an orphanage. Although Third World orphanages aren’t normally festive places, on this day, at this time, there is reason to celebrate: the arrival of a young man named Ben Schumaker. Schumaker comes from a faraway place called Wisconsin, and he comes bearing gifts.
“Ideally these would be something that the kids could hold onto for their whole lives,” Ben says.
Schumaker carries a suitcase with 62 pounds of portraits—portraits of the kids, a painting for each and every one of them, never meant for anyone’s eyes, except the children in them.
“They share everything, so they don’t have much they can call their very own,” says Jayden Kirn, a director at the orphanage. “I think it will touch them profoundly once they get down and get a private moment to sit and look at that picture.”
These kids didn’t have parents snapping baby pictures. Most don’t even have a single photo, let alone a precious painting.
Schumaker calls this The Memory Project. The idea is to establish a sense of personal heritage. He started it in college out of a bedroom at his parents’ house in Madison, Wisconsin. So far, he’s given out more than 80,000 portraits to orphans around the world. Of course, Schumaker doesn’t paint them all. Instead, he gets someone to take photos of the kids, and then sends those photos to high school art teachers across the United States; the teachers assign the portraits to their students.
This is where the idea goes from good to genius. The American kids who paint these portraits spend hours staring into the faces of their orphan subjects. Schumaker says that after working on them for so long—after painting their eyes especially—there’s a real connection.
“Every day they come into the art classroom and, bam—there it is—looking right into the eyes,” he says. “To be totally honest, that’s the main reason why I do this work.”
Schumaker says for every portrait he gives out, there’s a student back home who is now a little more aware of a world that needs light. That’s why he eventually says he’d like to make his Memory Project part of every high school art class in the country. “And if it can raise the net level of compassion in the world by that much, I’ll be happy,” Ben says.
I need stories that do my heart good—that make us a little more aware of parts of our world that need light… to raise the net level of compassion.
Today, the distractions from darkness are real—with real pain and real sadness. And the noise from headlines (including today’s unfolding story in Venezuela)–all making it not so easy to stay grounded. And connected.
So. Where do we begin?
Can we remove our blinders?
Can we choose to make a difference?
Can we choose to be instruments for what is possible?
Can we be springs of mercy and tenderheartedness?
Where there is darkness, can we sow light?
Here’s the deal: The answer is yes.
Because of a belief system? No. Because we can choose. And let us remember: We are not at the mercy of—assumptions, labels, intolerance, bias, fear or power.
This is about the choices we make, to determine the path forward.
Or, as my hero Mr. Roger’s reminds us, “It’s not so much what we have in this life that matters. It’s what we do with what we have. The alphabet is fine, but it’s what we do with it that matters most. Making words like ‘friend,’ and ‘love.’ That’s what really matters.”
I resonate with what writer Oyinkan Braithwaite said recently, “I am a Christian-in-walking. I do my best to follow the teachings of Christ.”
Back to our story about the portraits for the orphans. This emboldens me to access—to draw on—what we have, at the core of human dignity.
That at my core, I touch the capacity to grieve and to give, to tremble and to be courageous, to doubt and to be faithful, to be uncomfortable and to love, to be watchful and to be generous.
To be fully human and fully alive.
To be compassionate, patient, resilient, kind, unselfish, responsible, spirited, with a listening heart.
To quote Ben Schumaker, “Together we are using art to reach a distant destination: a kinder world in which all youth see themselves in one another regardless of differences in their appearance, culture, religion, or circumstances. For all who believe in that kinder world on the horizon, it is impossible to turn around. We hope you will join us.”
In his book Finding God in Unexpected Places, Philip Yancey talks about a South African woman named Joanna, who began a prison ministry that radically transformed one of her country’s most violent prisons. When Yancey asked her how she did it, she said: “Well, of course, Philip, God was already present in the prison. I just had to make Him visible.”
Easy? No. But here’s the good news. This reality—that we are indeed broken people—does not dishearten me. It motivates, animates and emboldens. To live with a soft heart keeps my hope alive. Knowing that the gift of my own fragile heart is the best gift I can give.
“Well, nobody else can live the life you live,” Mr. Rogers reminds us. “And even though no human being is perfect, we always have the chance to bring what’s unique about us to live in a redeeming way.”
Of course it is always easier to believe this affirmation about others, than it is to believe it about ourselves. And that light inside does dim from time to time. And if we’re honest we know how easy it is to live small or to be diminished; by shame or exhaustion or discouragement. And we are no longer dispensers of grace and light. In other words, we live with armor.
Why do I write Sabbath Moment? Because I want to live with a soft heart. And I need a reminder to set my armor down.
In the garden, daffodil and bearded Iris shoots are peaking out of the ground, making me smile real big. And the geese are back in town, settling in before nesting season. I did have a wee chat with them.
And technology issues still plague us, as we moved our website to a new domain. Sadly, it has affected our email. tdh@terryhershey.com is still being adapted and reset, and my deep apologies to all who emailed me and had it returned. For the next wee bit, please email me at tdhersheyster@gmail.com and I will respond. The website is up and running, including the ecourses and the bookstore.
Onward together in this New Year, and a shoutout to my Seattle Seahawks.
Quote for our week…
I am a child of God who believes
that we are all children of God
and we are all part of each other.
May we all know peace.
Thich Nhat Hanh
(Note: Ben Shumaker’s story from Melissa McNamara, Precious Images Give Orphans Hope. And “We have been fortunate to have 320,000 youth in 57 countries involved in our school-based programs since 2004,” says Schumaker.)
I am so very grateful that you are a part of Sabbath Moment. And grateful for the support that makes it possible. Please, pass Sabbath Moment on to friends. And invite them to join us.
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Hi Terry, this early look of spring lifts my heart.” Mary Ann Seiwerath (Gig Harbor, WA)… (This picture is from the stockpile, and helps me visualize that spring is on it’s way.) Thank you Mary Ann… Thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to tdhersheyster@gmail.com
Yes, your gift makes a difference… Donation = Love…
Help make Sabbath Moment possible. I write SM because I want to live with a soft heart; to create a place for sanctuary, empathy, inclusion, compassion and kindness… a space where we are refueled to make a difference. SM remains free.
(Address by check: PO Box 65336, Port Ludlow, WA 98365)
POEMS AND PRAYERS
“We do not become healers.
We came as healers.
We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become storytellers.
We came as carriers of the stories
we and our ancestors actually lived.
We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become artists.
We came as artists.
We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become writers…dancers…musicians…helpers…peacemakers.
We came as such.
We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.”
Clarissa Pinkola Estés
A Pilgrimage Blessing
May flowers spring up where your feet touch the earth.
May the feet that walked before you bless your every step.
May the weather that’s important be the weather of your heart.
May all of your intentions find their way into the heart of God.
May your prayers be like flowers strewn for other pilgrims.
May your heart find meaning in unexpected events.
May friends who are praying for you carry you along the way.
May friends who are praying for you be carried in your heart.
May the circle of life encircle you along the way.
May the broken world ride on your shoulders.
May you carry your joy and your grief and in the backpack of your soul.
May you remember all the circles of prayer throughout the world.
Macrina Wiederkehr
