Archive for the ‘Memories of Liberia’ Category

When people learn about our efforts to help the children of Esther’s Hope they often ask how I became involved.  How does a small town pastor in Algoma, WI make the connection to desperately needy orphans half a world away?

I usually give them the short answers; the easy answers.  I tell them how it started with my friend, Pastor Andrew Gombay, the founder of Victorious Faith Refuge Home in Monrovia, Liberia. I tell them about the two trips I’ve made to West Africa, about Liberia’s recent civil war, about the resulting poverty and deplorable living conditions most of the nation endures.  Before long, I’m simply telling them all about the children.

I’ve rarely shared the true beginning of Esther’s Hope. Only my wife and a hand full of others know the inside story of how this organization,  dedicated to “Providing hope and other essentials for life to the children of Liberia,” was born.  After reading this, you’ll be a part of that select group that knows Esther’s Hope was conceived through a night of weeping.  Here’s how it came about.

Pastor Andrew and I had been long-distance friends for years.  He’s the pastor of Victorious Faith Ministries in Monrovia.  He had been asking me to come to Liberia to lead a conference for Pastors and church leaders for some time before I agreed.  In November of 2005 we held the “Church on Fire” conference in Monrovia, Liberia.  Another church member, Jeff Lawrence, traveled with me.

It was the first time either of us had been out of the United States. What an adventure! The three day conference was a huge success.  We originally planned for 500 participants but ended up with more than 1,000 attendees. The people loved us and we loved them. However, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses.  Conditions were harsh due to the overwhelming destruction left in the wake of the previous conflicts – no running water, no public electricity, no sewer systems, etc. – and this is in the nation’s capitol, Monrovia. The UN had mobilized their largest peace-keeping force ever to guard Liberia’s tenuous peace.  There was even a tank parked in front of our hotel and soldiers with AK-47s stationed at the gate and on each floor of our hotel.

Our first opportunity to meet the children came on a Sunday morning at a church service (not part of the conference).  Several children recited memorized bible verses (video) and a group of them presented a skit. We enjoyed meeting the children after the service.  From the youngest to the oldest, they were extremely well behaved and respectful.  And, oh my, were they adorable.  You just wanted to scoop them up and take them home.

Before we returned to our hotel, Pastor Andrew took us on a tour of the Refuge Home, which at that time was connected to the church.  Everything was neat and clean, but we were stunned by what we saw.

Pastor Andrew and I had often talked about the Refuge Home.  He had started taking in children about a year before our visit. Of course, as a church, we had helped him financially, when we could, and provided most of the money needed to build the home. We were aware of the struggle of living  in Liberia – or, at least, we thought we were. Personal experience, again, proved to be a remarkable teacher.

There were 30 children living in the home.  The home consisted of two rooms about 12×15 feet.  One room was for the boys and one for the girls. As I said, everything was orderly and clean. Along one of the walls were some shoes and clothes organized on crude shelving.  It was difficult to imagine that what little was there would be adequate for 30 little ones.  Any American home would have that much and more for just one or two children. One room had two thin mattress on the floor and the other had one mattress.  They were fitted with clean sheets.  That was it. The tour took no more than a couple of minutes.

We returned to our hotel where we had a meeting with a local ministerial association.  After our meeting Jeff and I went to our room and discussed the events of the day and settled down to sleep.  It took awhile for the “adventure” to die down and sleep to come.  When it did come it didn’t last long for me. I woke up thinking about those children. I laid there thinking…and thinking…and thinking…  I finally got up and just paced the small room, praying in the dark.

As I prayed for the children, my mind was filled with images of those precious little ones, all thirty of them, trying to find a place on one of thin mattress on the floor, about how happy and sweet they were in the midst of such tremendous lack…and the tears would flow.  I don’t know how many hours I spent that night, pacing back and forth, praying and weeping for the children.

That was the night Esther’s Hope was conceived. It would be awhile for the organization you know today to be born, but that was it’s beginning.

I knew Pastor Andrew was doing all he could, making tremendous personal sacrifices to provide food and the little shelter he could for the children.  We had heard testimony from others how Pastor Andrew and his wife would go without meals, themselves, to see that the children had food. I was determined, with God’s leading, we would do more.  We couldn’t allow this to go on.  We immediately increased our aid to the home.

Our small church continued to send as much as we could for the children.  Though it was a considerable increase, we weren’t able to send funds monthly and it still wasn’t much. More than a year later, we established Esther’s Hope with a goal of recruiting supporters who would join us by sponsoring one of our children. Faithful sponsors enable us to send a  consistent and (we hope) growing amount every month.

With the help of Esther’s Hope the Victorious Faith Refuge Home has relocated to a larger facility and nearly every aspect of their lives is improved. Even so, there is so much more that needs to be done and a majority of our children still need sponsors. And, Lord knows, there are many more orphans in Liberia that need the kind of help and home we strive to provide.

For just $30 a month, anyone can become an Esther’s Hope Child Sponsor and make a dramatic difference in the lives of these precious children. Contributions are tax-deductible and because the church covers all administrative costs, every penny we receive for Esther’s Hope is sent to Liberia for the care of the children.

I’m confident, without Esther’s Hope, some of these children would have died. Browse through the children’s photos on the Children page and look at the faces of children who are very much alive and now have real hope for their future.  And then consider the loss if even one was not there.

It all began with a night of weeping.

By the way, the weeping wasn’t confined to one night. And it wasn’t just me.  More than once on that trip I would wake to the sound of quiet sniffling and see Jeff pacing the floor in the dark, praying and weeping for the children, as I had.  Even today, I easily get choked up and teary-eyed when I tell others about the children of Esther’s Hope.

“Don’t forget me. Don’t forget me.”

As I turned and stooped down to say goodbye to the small-framed girl with a larger-than-life grin, she hugged my neck long and hard and said, “Don’t forget me. Don’t forget me.”  I broke her grip so I could look her in the eye as I said, “Don’t worry, Matilda, I will never forget you.”

It was time to return to Wisconsin from several days of ministry in Monrovia, Liberia – West Africa. This was my second trip to Africa where I led a conference for pastors.  It was a wonderful trip; successful beyond my dreams – but that’s a story for another time. Today I want to introduce you to Matilda.

When Brian and I arrived at Liberia’s Roberts International Airport we were escorted to a room referred to as the V.I.P. Lounge.  Waiting for us were Pastor Andrew Gombay, our ministry partner in Liberia, and several other men from the ministry to welcome us.  After a hug and handshake from Pastor Andrew two young children approached us, each with a silk flower to present to as. Giving honored guests a silk flower is a common custom in Liberia.  These two children were from the Victorious Faith Refuge Home; an orphanage our church has supported since its founding.

As we waited in the V.I.P. Lounge for our papers and luggage to be processed, we visited with Pastor Andrew and the other men.  The two children, a boy and a girl, were extremely well behaved and sat quietly watching us.  Eventually we got to talk a little with them.  We asked their names.  They were names we’d never heard before so we repeated back to them what they had told us with a questioning tone.  They nodded and smiled.  So we assumed that we had understood them.

The official language of Liberia is English and all of the folks we’ve met there speak it.  However, it’s not always easily understood.  We spend an uncomfortable amount of time asking people to repeat things, especially when we first arrive, before we start to get the hang of it.  I don’t remember exactly what we thought their names were, but the next day we learned from Pastor Andrew their names were actually Matilda and Titus.  If I could remember what we thought the children told us, you would never associate it with Matilda and Titus. We were so off the mark, we laugh about it today.

When we finally piled into the SUV that would take us to our accommodations, Matilda ended up between Brian and I in the back seat.  I gave Matilda a gentle hug and she immediately returned the hug and melted into my side (and melted my heart), staying there the rest of the trip.  It takes quite awhile to travel from the airport to Monrovia and it was dark – maybe around 8:00 or 9:00 at night – while we drove and talked with Pastor Andrew about the upcoming itinerary.

About half way to our destination, I noticed Matilda had fallen asleep.  I noticed because her head began to bob as we navigated the ruts and potholes common to Liberian roads. The jarring can be quite violent at times so I began to support Matilda’s head with my free hand.  I was sure the jolts would wake her, but with my gentle support she remained sleeping until we arrived at our destination.

The following days I would see Matilda many times.  She was always smiling, always eager to see and greet me.  She often had someone else’s baby with her that she lovingly cared for.  Matilda loves to sing and is the Esther’s Hope worship leader.  The children make a wonderful choir.  All of them, from the youngest to the oldest join in.  When they sing, Matilda is the one who leads them in song and clapping.  When we were taking photos with the children at church, she was sure to be next to me or on my lap.  As much as she was around, she was never annoying or bothersome – always respectful and considerate.  (All of the children were. They were delightful to have around.)

After the last session of our pastor’s conference we shook a sea of happy hands, thanked all for their hard work, encouraged them to continue on and said our good byes. The SUV was packed and waiting to take us immediately to the airport.  As we stepped out of the building and headed for the car Matilda met me.  She had been waiting to bid me farewell.  I heard her call and I turned around glad to see her, thankful for the opportunity to say good bye.  And, as I’ve already related, I promised not to forget her.

I think about Matilda often.  I think about what life is like for her and how we can make it better.  Matilda is an Esther’s Hope child Sara and I sponser with our personal financial support every month.  The thought of adoption has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. I’ve daydreamed about how she would do here, how Sara would love her, what joy she would bring.   But Esther’s Hope has never been about adoption. It’s about helping the children in Liberia.  (Don’t misunderstand, I’m not against adoption, it’s just never seemed to be our mission.)

I think about how Matilda must have grown since I last saw her. I try not to think much about the hardships I know all the chidren endure in Liberia.  I pray for her and all the Esther’s Hope children and thank God for the wonderful, dedicated caregivers who watch over them. And, of course, I think about the great reunion we will have when I return…someday.

When I’m working on this website or sharing Esther’s Hope with others and I see photos and video of the children taken on our trip, those bright eyes and huge smile draw me immediately to Matilda. She becomes the center of my attention. When I see her, I may not say anything out loud, but in my mind I’m thinking, “Oh, Matilda.  I will never forget you.”

 

 

Matilda is just one of up to 30 children supported by Esther’s Hope.  Many of them still need sponsors.  Please consider helping by checking out our Sponsor A Child page and the Sponsorship FAQ page.

Make a difference with an immediate donation on our Donate page.

Who knew an innocent photo, taken in a busy public place, could cause such a ruckus?

Those who know me know I’m a photography buff. I’ve always liked photography but the cost of film and processing was a damper on my artistic proclivities. That all changed when I purchased a decent digital camera to chronicle my first trip to Liberia.

I was leaving the United States for the first time in my life to lead a conference for a thousand pastors and church leaders in Monrovia. There were so many people who were helping me get there, through prayer and financial support, that I was determined to share as much of the experience with them as possible. I felt it was as much their adventure as it was mine, and I didn’t want them to miss a moment of it. I was just as determined on my second trip to Liberia, as well.

On my trips I’m like a Japanese-tourist-photo-ninja warrior. With unbridled zeal I’m clicking off hundreds of photos – a practice that got me into trouble…not once…not twice…but on three separate occasions. (A little bit of zeal goes a long way.)

In my pre-trip travel research, I did see warnings about how “sensitive” foreign governments can be about folks photographing government installations – particularly military bases and police stations. I would be careful to avoid tangling with them. The last thing I wanted was a run-in with guys who were shooting up the streets of Monrovia in a bloody civil war just a few months before.  With former gorilla-fighters having to endure the comparatively dull pace of peace, who wants to be the one to offer them an opportunity for a little excitement?

My first “ruckus” was stirred up, not in Monrovia, but as we re-entered the US. Myself and traveling companion, Jeff Lawrence, were preparing to go through customs at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. This was a first for us. Never done it before. Gotta take pictures, right?  So, I’m in the hapless photo-ninja mode, snapping away, posing Jeff in front of a Customs sign, photographing the guys in the glass booths while we stand in line, capturing everything for the folks back home and posterity…until the yelling started.

Well, actually, I was so intent on getting the right shots, it took me a couple of moments to realize the guy in the booth was yelling at me. It wasn’t an informative, courteous, “Hey, you there.” It was a mean-spirited, fire-breathing, berating. I don’t think he used any naughty words, but you could hear a whole gnarly string of them in his tone. Of course, I’m like a deer in the headlights, dumbfounded and trying to look as innocent as I can. I apologize and tell him I didn’t know you’re not supposed take photos in the Customs area. That unleashed another barrage of browbeating; questioning my eyesight and literacy. He claimed there were “No Photography” signs in the hallway that led us there. If there were, I didn’t see them. For a fleeting moment I felt like arguing the point, but decided to let it slide. Tranquilizing the beast within and enduring the smoldering stare while he processed us back into the bosom of the motherland seemed a small price to pay.

The next dust-up happened at Roberts International Airport, as we arrived in Liberia on the second trip.  Brian Matthys was traveling with me this time. After descending the steps of the airliner, I innocently turn around and snap a photo of the plane. Immediately a woman runs up to me and starts reading me the riot act. Dumbfounded again, I can’t imagine how this would present a security threat.  She sternly told me that no photos could be taken and that we should have obeyed the pilot’s instructions. I explained that we didn’t receive any instructions about photos. (At least, neither of us recalled hearing any.)  She ranted on about how the pilots are supposed to. I continued to apologize and slowly backed away from the “glare.”

They say the third time’s the charm.  I’ll let you be the judge of how charming it was.

On that second trip we were blessed to stay with a friend, Stan Stalla, a US Aid worker who had an apartment on the U.S. Embassy compound in Monrovia. We arrived in the evening, got a good night’s sleep and woke refreshed and ready for a full day. After a nice breakfast – thank you, Stan – we were enjoying the view from his balcony. His apartment was on the fourth or fifth floor, giving us a nice panorama of the ocean above the surrounding buildings and trees.

Well you know me, I’ve got the camera out…snapping away. Brian is next to me with a video camera. Stan is with us, taking a few photos of his own. Stan and I had become good friends over the internet, sharing our interest in Liberia and photography. We still share photos.  Together, we were all getting some great stuff.

In the trees across the street, some white birds caught my eye. Egrets, I think. There were a bunch of them walking along the tops of the trees.  Not something you see in Wisconsin, so I want to get a good shot to share with the folks back home. The problem is, they are too far away for a good shot, even with my 10x zoom. I make a mental note to try again when I can get  closer.

Our Liberian ministry partner, Pastor Andrew Gombay, came by to pick us up and begin our day of ministry. Brian and I grab the stuff we would need for the day and meet him on the street in front of the apartment building. The vehicle was parked right next to the trees with the birds. Hot dog! As we’re piling stuff into the back of the SUV, I whip out my camera to take a couple of quick pictures – pointing up in the trees. Immediately a uniformed embassy security officer – a Liberian – confronted me about taking photos, wanting to know what I was doing. I politely explained I was getting a picture of the birds; even showed him the image on the camera’s display. He wasn’t impressed and said he would have to confiscate my camera and haul us to some higher security official for questioning.

Pastor Andrew tried to intervene on our behalf, Liberian to Liberian, explaining we were “men of God.”  He pleaded with the man to not embarrass us. The man would not be dissuaded. The security guard informed us there was a sign at the entrance that clearly stated photography is not allowed in or around the Embassy compound. We explain that we arrived in the dark of night and didn’t see any signs. We’re being gracious, apologizing, promising not to do it again. This guy, though relatively mild-mannered is relentless. He’s still wanting to confiscate my camera and take us to his superiors for questioning.

We explain to him that we’re staying with Stan, we’re Americans, we’re not spies or terrorists. We try to call Stan, figuring he can vouch for us, but Stan doesn’t answer his phone. (After we left Stan had jumped in the shower.) The quiet bulldog in the blue uniform will not let go. This all seems silly to me, I’m getting frustrated and this guy’s accusatory tone raises my hackles.

I’m deeply embarrassed to admit it, but I became that ugly American we’ve all heard about. In a forceful tone I got in this guy’s face saying stupid stuff like,  “Who are you to question me! I’m a US citizen staying at a US Embassy, my tax dollars paid for all this AND your salary! I have rights, blah, blah, blah.”  For what it’s worth, I did stop short of claiming my relatives came to America on the Mayflower. To add insult to stupidity, my passionate oration had no effect.

We wound up at security headquarters, waiting for the head of Embassy security, an American. Stan finally got our message and followed us there. While waiting, we asked Stan why he didn’t tell us about the photo ban.  After all, the three of us were shooting  up the place (photographically speaking) on his balcony. It never occurred to him.

I don’t remember his name, but when the head of security showed up, he was a truly nice guy. We explained that we were just doing the tourist thing, taking photos of the birds. He explained that every US Embassy is off limits to photography because of the constant threat of terrorism.  Even though we looked harmless, how could his security people know we weren’t working with or for someone planning an attack.  He asked to see the pictures I took. I showed him the birds on the camera’s display. After flipping through a couple of images he said there was no problem, we free to go, but no more photographs of the embassy area. We promised and quickly scooted out the door.

And, of course, we were true to our word. Even though, as you’d expect, we took a ton of photos that trip, from that point on, the only ones taken within miles of the embassy were of the interior of Stan’s apartment.

I still wonder what would have happened if the head of security wasn’t satisfied with viewing the few bird photos at the end of my camera’s memory. Another image or two back, and he would have gotten quite an eye full – dozens of  high quality images of every inch of the embassy compound that could be seen from a fifth floor balcony. (I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I was taking pictures of everything.)

Whew! That was a close one.