Helen Mottee.com

Five Days in Kosovo…..

Helen — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 14:56:06 +0000

Ten minutes into a conversation with Ray, from Blythswood Care, UK and he casually asked me,

‘Do you want to come to Kosovo – I can arrange all the documentation and you can visit some of our projects. We will also help with the air ticket.”

A week later, 10.30 Monday morning, I was on a British Airways flight to Pristina.

In less than three hours I was touching down at Kosovo’s international airport, under a brilliant blue sky with not a cloud anywhere.

Met by Ray and several of the locals, we drove up into the hills to the town of Gjakova, and its accompanying grey mist and fog, and I never saw blue sky again – until I returned to fly back to London.

It is hard to describe those five days – literally I entered another world. I also understood again that news reports, political analyses, current affairs updates and learned chats over coffee will never be a substitute for going to a place and seeing, hearing, touching what is real – and so inexpressibly heart breaking.

In those five days I was not only looked after and blessed beyond measure by Ray, but was mentored by someone who seems to effortlessly live out what he passionately believes, giving freely and unconditionally to all whose needs were made known, a man who in every deepest sense is a servant and faithful steward of the resources and abilities he has been blessed with.

In one of many memorable conversations, Ray quietly said to me, “I don’t want to die rich – I want to use the money to help people now”.

Humble and deeply compassionate that is exactly what Ray is doing. May we all learn from this beautiful example.

Ray very quickly showed me that nothing was a problem – no matter how insolvable it seemed. Whether it was meeting with local government officials, organising aid trucks from Scotland or contacting relevant UN people about war crimes.

We visited the poorest of the poor – Roma families subsisting in rundown 2 room buildings and helped Richard, another selfless man from the UK who visits Kosovo regularly, install a small solar panel for the ‘shed lady’, so she could have two to three hours electricity during the regular power cuts.

We visited a group of widows whose village saw the largest number of men and young boys massacred by the Serbs, sampled the local brew Raki which could set off dynamite, and made a quick trip into Albania to deliver a wood heater to, again, poor Roma families struggling to survive the coming winter.

Just spending time with the people and hearing some of their stories was, as it always is, the highlight of this unexpected trip.

Throughout the five very full days, with much walking on the cold, rubbish strewn streets ( at night head lamps are mandatory to avoid falling into the manholes whose covers have been stolen to sell ), as we visited various families, the thought kept reverberating in my mind – twelve years since the ethnic cleansing, – twelve years since lives were forever shattered – and the deepest pain and questions remain.

Houses still empty, all railways still non operational because of the bombings, squatters trying to survive in abandoned Serbian homes, little work, sometimes daily power cuts, and women who still believe and hope their husbands are alive somewhere in Serbia.

Perhaps the most poignant moment of my time in Kosovo was stopping by a mass graveyard where 300 men and boys are buried.

That horrific night in April 1999, Serb soldiers came to the villages and ordered all the men over 17 to leave.

While the women and children were marched into Albania where they were refugees for over a year, the men were taken to a field and shot. The youngest was a 12 year old boy who wouldn’t leave his older brothers, and the oldest was a grandfather in his 90’s.

Ray told me that a woman who witnessed the mass murders from outside her home nearby, poured petrol over herself and lighted a match.

Again, I reflected, these are the stories we don’t read or hear – and if we do, tragically the faces and names convert into a set of statistics that horrify us for a moment – until something else diverts our attention on the world scene.

My time in Kosovo was also a stark reminder to me of the ongoing genocide in Burma – where every atrocity against the innocent is being committed daily, while the world carries on its fascination with materialism and superficiality.

Returning to the UK was a paradigm shift in the extreme.

My last 10 days were enjoyed with my aunt and uncle, resting in the English countryside, surrounded by beauty, culture and abundance, with every need and want catered for, in safety and peace.

We live in a bizarre, almost Twilight Zone – type world – where three hours in a plane can transport you to another universe and not only brutally adjust your perspective, but leave you with more questions than before you went.

Burma refugees in Malaysia – no choice, no voice!

Helen — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 13:32:46 +0000

On 23 June 2009 Burma army troops captured a number of villagers in central Karen State. An entire family, including 2 children (ages 4 and 13) and a grandmother (65), was executed. 2 other children managed to escape and are now refugees in Thailand. These children will live with the trauma of witnessing their family killed for the rest of their lives, though they are now in relative safety across the border.

There are currently over 140,000 refugees in camps along the Thai /Burma border. Many of these people have been there for over 20 years and are unlikely to return to Burma under the present military regime. These refugee camps represent one of the world’s longest running humanitarian crises.
Burma, in fact, has been ranked as the world’s third largest source of refugees after Afghanistan and Iraq.

However, the Thai / Burma border is not the only place you will be confronted with people who have been forced to flee political, ethnic and religious persecution in Burma.

Thousands of refugees escaping extensive human rights abuses perpetrated by the Burmese military junta, have been arriving in Malaysia, with the hope of not only registering with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), but of eventually being resettled in a third country.
Many of the approximately 40,000 Burmese refugees who have resettled in the United States since 1995, have come via Malaysia.

Refugees in Malaysia are regarded as illegal migrants as they have fled Burma and do not have passports. As such they are not extended any of the basic rights we regard as ‘normal’ in countries like Australia. Their children cannot go to school, their sick do not have access to medical care, and those who manage to find menial work are too often exploited and abused by employers.

Upon arrival in Malaysia, refugees are often arrested by the authorities, regardless of whether they have UNHCR papers. They can be imprisoned, taken to detention camps and /or taken to the Malaysia / Thai border for deportation. At the border these men, women and children become the prey of human traffickers, who demand individual ‘ransom’, which according to some reports, includes bank accounts in Kuala Lumpur to which money should be transferred. Those unable to pay are handed over to peddlers in Thailand, ranging from brothel owners to fishing boat cartels. Women are usually sold into the sex industry.

Ikatan Relawan Rakyat ( RELA), translated ‘Volunteers of Malaysian People’, a paramilitary civil volunteer corps, formed by the Malaysian government, is more feared by the refugees than the police. A typical tactic used to harass and arrest refugees is for RELA groups to position themselves outside churches and market places on a Sunday, where they know many refugees will be.
Persons identified as asylum seekers and refugees on their way to a third country, are seen as threats to national security.

In an interview with The New York Times, RELA director-general, Zaidon Asmuni, said, “We have no more Communists at the moment, but we are now facing illegal immigrants. As you know, in Malaysia, illegal immigrants are enemy No. 2.”

When Jo Hain and I visited the Kachin refugees in Kuala Lumpur in April this year, we heard firsthand the stories of abuse and harassment, and the daily struggle to simply survive as a refugee in Malaysia.

The Kachin are one of about 11 ethnic groups in Burma, and Kachin state is found to the far north and borders India to the west and China to the northeast. According to a March 2010 report, there are over 4,000 Kachin refugees in Malaysia, half of which are not officially registered.

Just before we arrived in Kuala Lumpur, bringing with us clothes, baby items, vitamins, toys, and educational items, several hundred refugees from Burma were arrested and taken to detention camps. These included young mothers with children, some of whom had been waiting at a bus stop to go back home.

And what is ‘home’ for Kachin refugees in Malaysia? It is usual for several families to live in one apartment on the outskirts of the city. There is no furniture (perhaps mattresses are spread out to sleep on at night), no air conditioning. Rents are high, and with food and transport costs it is not surprising that up to 15 people can exist in one 4 room apartment.

But the Kachin are resilient, hopeful and are striving to carve out a life for themselves while they wait, sometimes up to four years, for the chance to be resettled to a third country. There is now a school run by volunteer Kachin teachers for primary and secondary students. A pre school is also being set up for the little ones.

Many of the women have begun sewing and crocheting, with the goal of setting up an income generating business in Kuala Lumpur. Jo and I had the joy and privilege of bringing enough money with us, which had been donated by several friends from New Zealand, for two more industrial sewing machines to be purchased. To witness the excitement and enthusiasm of the young girls and older women, as they showed us what they had already created, and chatted with us about future projects, is one of the many highlights experienced on this brief trip.

There are many needs in the Kachin refugee community in Malaysia, especially medical. If anyone is interested to know more and to help in some way, please contact me through FB or my email – crosfiremusic@hotmail.com.

Is your Little Blue Light shining?

Helen — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 08:23:32 +0000

I remember being inspired to write this song after driving home one night to our little place in country Australia, and suddenly being struck – as if for the first time- by the plethora of eerily shimmering blue lights emanating from nearly every home we drove past.

It was dark. And so the little blue light was very visible, shining even through drawn curtains, boldly exposing the recreational activity of countless families in our little town alone.

As the lyrics to this song found their way out of this naive realisation and into penned thoughts, I saw a potter.

This potter shapes many things, with a dedication, persistence and skill that is perhaps unlike anything else we have seen influence our lives and our world.

This potter moulds minds and hearts – our ideas, perceptions and even feelings are pliable clay. We are told to need certain things, we are persuaded to want even more things, we are coerced to shift Self firmly into the centre of our universe – because we have a right to, because it’s cool.

This potter shapes our time – we fit our lives around the programs we are compelled to watch, the next episode of the series that cannot be missed.

This potter even plays around with our relationships – we ‘get to know’ people by watching television together, we have our conversations in the commercial breaks.

This potter is also skilfully adept at replacing and re – prioritising. Good books remain on the shelves, letters and cards to real people stay unwritten, visits to those crying out for companionship and encouragement rarely, if ever, happen.

And the catch cry of these days we live in is – there’s no time! No time to invest in real people and real activities – but seemingly plenty of time to keep up with the latest Reality show or Idol favourite.

The little blue light has become the other member of our family – perhaps more listened to than our spouse, more comfortable to spend time with than our teenagers.

This potter demands so little of us – just to be switched on in fact. And that is enough.

There’s a little blue light

Shining out from the window of this nation

This little blue light is a potter

Working the clay of this generation

Heart and minds gently mesmerised

It’s the time, it’s the sign

In every home tonight this little blue light will shine

This little blue light will shine.

Children want to share the day’s joy

Dad mumbles ‘later’

For now find a toy

Channel to channel the hours melt away

The little blue light has become the truth and the way

The truth and the way

There’s a little blue light……..

Long ago a piper played a steal away tune

Now it’s the little blue light in the corner of your room

It’s not just the kids who are dancing with glee

The little blue light is beckoning you and me

You and me, saying

“Hey, let me think your thoughts for you

I’ll feed your fantasies when you get blue

Hey, I’ll plan your life for you

I’m the little blue light you can’t put out

I’m the little blue light you can’t live without”

Some of you are wondering just what’s gone wrong

Why are we filled, yet hollow inside

Why is the little blue light doing our living for us

As we soak up the details of anonymous lives

There’s a little blue light…….

What is ‘Lawful’?

Helen — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 03:28:37 +0000

Right now I am contemplating the word ‘adventure’. A couple of dictionary meanings I am drawn to are:

“an exciting or very unusual experience.” “a wild and exciting undertaking (not necessarily lawful)”

The second definition is leading me into a particular train of thought…. how do we evaluate what is ‘lawful’, what is

‘conformable to or allowed by law ‘?

Post Modernism tells us everything is relative and thus a matter of personal opinion, when one boils the philosophy down to its essence. As I am not a post modernist and believe in a code of behaviour which is bed-rocked on a definite and unchanging set of precepts, it is important for me to work out in my own life what is ‘lawful’.

Most people would agree that to abide by the laws of one’s land is good and right – and lawful.

Most people would agree that human trafficking and pedophilia are not good, not right- and not lawful.

And so the question fermenting in my mind is – what is my personal response to a situation, where the laws of a particular country at best turn a ‘blind eye on’, and at worst, allow and even condone, such horrors as human trafficking and pedophilia to thrive?

Is there a ‘higher law’ that my conscience and my actions will be accountable to?

Is it right or wrong for people to rescue young children out of prostitution when these children have been ‘legitimately’ sold and bought. Are these people, by doing so, defrauding, even stealing from the individuals who ‘bought’ the children and exploit them in a country where it is ‘the done thing’?

And what about countries whose governments are in power without the consent of the ruling majority?

Governments who terrorise, torture, imprison and take away the basic liberties of freedom such as access to food and water, health care and education?

Is it lawful or unlawful for someone like me to desire to help, speak out for, the citizens who suffer unimaginably under such merciless rulers?

Is it unlawful for me to speak on behalf of and attempt to help refugees who have crossed international borders and are surviving ‘illegally’ in a country that doesn’t want them, and in fact, hunts them like criminals.

And even more confronting is the question – is it lawful for ME to cross international borders to help the oppressed and the suffering, perhaps even illegally, in order to live out a higher law which demands my allegiance?

On my second trip to Malaysia, alone, I found myself sitting next to a businessman who, for the greater part of the flight from Hong Kong, watched various bits of entertainment on the little screen in front of him, whilst I sat and contemplated what the next week was going to bring.

However in the last hour of our journey, he suddenly removed his earphones, turned to me, and said something like, “So is this your first trip to Malaysia?’

This rather cliched opening led into a discussion that I will never forget and which I want to share the gist of now.

When this man proceeded to ask me why I was visiting Malaysia, I automatically thought, ‘ I can tell him I’m visiting friends – which is true, but certainly not the whole story. ‘ And then I realised that I WANTED to tell him, I wanted him to know.

“I’m visiting refugees from Burma and taking them some stuff that they need”.

If you ever want a conversation stopper, then that’s a great line to throw at someone.

He literally stared at me. “But that’s illegal. You can’t do that. They’re illegal immigrants and the Malaysian govt. has just now stepped up its campaign to get rid of all these people who are coming in. The police and civilian vigilante groups are ruthless – and don’t think you’ll be protected if you’re found with these refugees because you are a white woman. You’ll be arrested. Don’t do it!”

I must confess I actually enjoy interactions like this – not because I am necessarily argumentative, but because it gives me the wonderful opportunity to tell people about not only refugees generally, but those in Malaysia in particular.

As we talked, his little TV screen now folded away and his full attention directed to this crazy female whom he had the misfortune to be sat next to, I explained who these refugees were and why they found themselves in Burma. I described the 100 or so men and young boys whom I had met on my first trip, who were living in the jungle in makeshift huts, hunting for food, isolated, living in fear of being found by the authorities.

The businessman listened.

I told him about the young widows and elderly grandmothers whose husbands had died in Burma, and who were surviving in rundown tenement apartments, unable to work, with no access to school for their children and no means of medical care when needed.

And then I described how these gentle, humble people were hunted by vigilante groups who were paid a ‘bounty’ for each refugee they caught. I told him about women who were sexually harassed because they had no ‘legal’ status; about men who were beaten in the jails; about men and women and children who were caught and sent into detention camps, or worse, deported to the Thai border.

I mentioned that these refugees could not return to Burma, although that was their hearts’ desire. I told this man that a slow genocide had been happening in Burma for nearly 60 years.

When this businessman asked me what I was taking these refugees I said, ‘clothes, medicine donated by a Hong Kong doctor, and money given by friends’.

As the plane made its descent in to Kuala Lumpur we fell silent. There was a quiet satisfaction in me that I had ‘spoken out’ to a total stranger about an issue I’m passionate about. It didn’t matter to me what he thought of me, and at least he had listened – intently.

As the plane secured itself to the offloading terminal and people began jumping out of their seats and opening overhead lockers, this businessman turned to me and held out his hand. Looking me directly in the eyes he said quietly, “Thank you for sharing all this with me, I had no idea…”

And then – “You’re doing the right thing and I wish you every success.”

Funnily, it had not been my intention at all to ‘convince’ him that what I was doing was ok. My aim had been to inform, to enlighten a man who made frequent trips to this country – and knew it well. EXCEPT for what was going on with the ‘illegal immigrants’.

What is ‘Lawful?’ I recall a certain group of very religious people asked a certain Jewish carpenter that question more than once.

Is it lawful to do good? To help another human being who because of circumstances is help – less!

We all answer that question in one way or another – and if we agree that,yes, it IS lawful to do good then perhaps we need to examine our own response.

You see, passively agreeing and doing nothing is as good as saying ‘No’.

What I won’t need when I die?

Helen — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 08:15:02 +0000

“I’m happy to leave America and go and die with my friends in Africa,”

These words were a small part of another huge conversation I had recently with friends from the States. They have visited Hong Kong several times since our family came here over 3 years ago – and always their visit is fused into a larger landscape of service and volunteering in a number of countries in this part of the world – orphanages in Thailand, outreach in slum communities in the Philippines – and of course long, hard days here at Crossroads helping in whatever way is needed on any given day.

Last year Daryl and Mary took a team of young people to Africa for several months to serve the poor. They have been doing this sort of thing for many years now. And they truly, genuinely, absolutely love it!

Both are in the prime of their lives, both work, both meet all the basic financial obligations of living in a place like the USA. So how do they mange to spend around 4 to 5 months every year ‘taking time out’ to serve others on no pay?

“It’s simple’, Daryl said, as he relaxed in our lounge one night, after a day’s physical labour on site. ” Mary and I work a certain number of months every year to facilitate our taking the remaining months to do our service trips. We work to pay our bills, and save enough to cover the time when we will be away on no income.”

Jim and I listened…..

Daryl continued, ” Mary and I decided many years ago to set a basic level of income need, and anything above that goes into what we really live for – serving wherever we are called. We have simplified our lives to base essentials – and we are free to serve.’

“How many strings do you have?”, Daryl asked us. As we mulled on this rather profound question, he continued. “We all have strings attaching us to stuff – the more strings we can cut, the freer we’ll be to hear the call and respond.”

It seems everywhere Jim and I turn we are hearing, reading, witnessing in living real colour, this deepest of truths – stuff, in all its various ramifications, ties us up, chains us to responsibilities and commitments that we realise somewhere deep inside us, will never bring us peace and fulfillment – BUT we can’t seem to cut the strings.

And by stuff, Daryl didnt just mean houses and cars and the latest upgrades in phones and plasma televisions. Our society and our media’s sole goal, it seems, is to keep convincing us 24/7 that we need more of everything – more toys, more insurance, more of more. And so the ‘stuff’ in our head becomes fixations like – ‘I need to get as much money for me as I can – not just for all my present wants – but for all the future ones as well – I need to plan right up to the day I die, and make sure that when I do, I’ll not only be very comfortable, but have stored in savings accounts and retirement funds the accumulation of my life’s labours. ‘

And so the time to serve, to take the proverbial leap from the boat, never comes. It NEVER comes! Because the paradigm we construct our decisions on becomes the all consuming and all enslaving – ‘this and this and this box needs to be ticked BEFORE I start thinking about someone else.’

We all have those boxes, but after spending time with Mary and Daryl, I have had confirmed to me again that the boxes are actually strings…..or chains. And you know what, society as it presently is, will make sure you will never get to tick them all – there will always be something more you need to get, to do, to earn, to ‘sort out’.

“In the States,” Daryl reflected,” people are saving money all their lives so they can afford to move into a ‘good’ retirement home. That’s become ‘The Goal’ for many people we know personally.”

Jim and I kept listening….

I thought about some people we know back in Australia – who even in retirement, with more than adequate funds and a ‘lifestyle’ which 90% of the world can only fantasize about, are still ticking boxes. Still existing inside a worldview that literally cannot conceive a life outside of maximum personal comfort and financial ‘padding’.

“I don’t need to die in America, in a retirement home which has literally cost me my life to qualify to get into.” Daryl looked at Mary, and she was smiling her characteristic beautiful smile which, if one could capture ‘peace’ into a momentary visual icon- this smile was it!

“When the time comes, we don’t need all that to die. We have friends all over the world, who are our family, to whom we can go – places where we have invested our energies and our love. Mary and I are happy to die in an African village or a Philippine slum – in the end it doesn’t matter where we die, but how we’ve lived, and how we’ve been obedient to what we are called to do.”

Truth is always beautiful – but it’s hard as well. Simplifying our lives, even when we decided to come to Hong Kong, was the MOST complicated and time consuming process I had ever experienced!

But it has been worth every ounce of stress and difficulty. AND – the simplifying hasn’t finished, AND I am getting the feeling more and more that for us it has only really started.

In my head I now have a little list of all the things I won’t need when I depart this mortal coil.

I won’t need all my stuff. I won’t need to be worried about what our house is currently worth or whether interest rates will go up again. I won’t be too bothered about what sort of car Jim is driving at the time or whether I really should have lashed out and bought the ‘ fresh on the market’ new I Touch. And I probably won’t be tossing and turning wondering whether Great Aunt Roberta is going to leave me her cache of jewels.

And you know what I won’t need the most? The opinions of people, well meaning or no, who thought we should have done this, or not done that. Man’s approval will take a very distant second to what the Carpenter will say.

What’s your ‘status calculator’?

Helen — Thu, 20 May 2010 05:11:22 +0000

“Anywhere he goes I follow, anything he want me to do, I did”.

These were the words of 20 year old Sunny, a former child soldier in Liberia’s bloody 15 year civil war, as he described his unconditional loyalty to his ‘general’ as a 10 year old boy, in a conflict that has left Liberia the second poorest country in the world today.

With 80% unemployment and basic necessities such as clean water and electricity unavailable to the majority, children continue to suffer the after effects of the war, with the orphaned and abandoned surviving on the streets, and many of the over 11,000 ex child soldiers involved in criminal activity and drug abuse.

In Liberia one will see children breaking rocks in order to earn a few dollars. Here you will witness children with ‘short sleeves’ and ‘long sleeves’ – depending on where the machete fell on their small bodies.

As I reflect on the above, my mind and heart are again attempting to reconcile the two paradigms I am confronted with daily, even hourly. In Australia, many young people I know measure their ‘have’ and ‘have not’ status by the brand of sport shoes they wear or the I Pod they have fastened to their ears. This is the culture they breathe, they are integrally a part of it, it’s ‘normal’. And how can I, or any one else, even begin to judge these youth for simply inhaling this most potent of oxygens – get more, have more, display more! Our media exists to make sure this is the message they hear – constantly.

In most of the rest of the world, as I have been painfully made aware of over these recent years, the ‘have’ and the ‘have nots’ measure their place in society by vastly different criteria.

In Cambodia and Laos if you have enough rice to eat every day you are well off. If, perchance, you can add a little fish or meat to your rice, then you are wealthy.

In Tajikistan if you are a child who is able bodied and well, you are one of the fortunate. Statistically a rising number of children are being born with horrific birth abnormalities because close relatives, first cousins for example, are marrying each other because of cultural tradition.

In Zambia if you are a child who can actually get to school, even by walking up to ten kilometers to get there and back, you are extraordinarily blessed. And if you own a backpack to put your school books in, you are rich.

As I learn about places like Liberia and Sierra Leone and DR Congo, my personal ‘status calculator’ suffers another necessary displacement.

In these countries if you are actually alive and whole, in body and mind, you are in the ‘have’ category.

Numberless millions, adults and children, live with memories we wouldn’t choose to conjure up in our worst nightmares. In civil wars, under brutal regimes, they have lost not just material possessions, not just their homes and livelihoods – but their identities.

Young boys conscripted to be child soldiers, young girls forced to be child brides – or prostitutes, women trafficked across borders and never seen or heard of again, elderly grandparents struggling to care for grandchildren whose parents have died of HIV AIDS.

‘Short sleeves’ or ‘long sleeves’?

I didn’t know what that expression meant until a few years ago. It is a fashion statement of a very different kind. And it clearly draws the line between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’ in countries like Liberia.

I am asking myself right now what I, as a mother, would be feeling if soldiers came into my town, into my home, and asked my son or daughter that question as they raised the machete over their arm.

I am asking myself what I would feel as I watched the machete fall.

We are all so good at taking in statistics and we are very good at compartmentalizing. We may not articulate it, but somewhere in our soul we say ‘ yeah, that’s Africa, that’s India, that’s how it is’.

Many people I’ve met have chosen not to live inside the ‘that’s how it is’ worldview. They speak out, they give, they GO.

They choose to become THE difference for someone else.

Are you a ‘have’ or a ‘have not’?

Check out the length of your sleeve!

“Recipe” in Top 10 NZ Peace Song contest

Helen — Wed, 19 May 2010 06:11:19 +0000

What would you pay for hindsight?

Helen — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 03:45:54 +0000

Being where we are in this season of our journey, has brought literally hundreds of new friends into our lives. Many of these people have impacted our hearts and our perspective in all sorts of ways, some however, have left deeper marks…

Several weeks ago, Jim and I shared coffee and conversation with Nat, an economics honours student from Sydney University, who was visiting Crossroads for a couple of weeks. As this young man shared a part of his heart with us, we listened – intently.
“Could you write down what you are telling us, and send it to me in an email,” I asked him. “And…would it be ok if I shared this with others?”
Nat smiled. “Sure, I’ll send you something in the next day or so.”

Here below is a wondrous window into the heart and spirit of a young man, who was Head Boy at one of the best private schools in Sydney, and is studying on a full scholarship at Sydney University. Already the world has shown itself to be his ‘oyster’, and yet at 21 years of age, he is profoundly blessed to know that there are pearls of much greater price – and value.

‘The world these days is geared towards encouraging us to accumulate what we do not need. Everything plays on our selfish desires. We’re told that the mark of success is what we have, how much we earn, how popular we are, how many people serve us.
I think the opposite. That the mark of a person is the number of people he or she serves, that we should focus not on getting but on giving, and that we should pursue our passions – not what we’re told we should pursue.

I don’t deny that it is very tempting to take success as the world defines it. This has become very apparent to me in the past couple of years. Last year, I was offered close to A$100,000 to work at Boston Consulting Group this year (instead of completing my Economics Honours). They said that if I worked there for two years, I would get a pay rise close to $150,000, then after another year they’d pay for me to do a Business Management Masters Program at Harvard. Then I’d get another pay rise, and some years later be considered for a partner position, probably earning close to $1million.

I’ve also been offered a few other jobs with the Reserve Bank of Australia and NAB. In each case, the businesses create an incentive structure that lures you into staying with the business for a long period of time. I imagine it would be quite easy to start work at one of these commercial firms with the intention of staying for only a couple of years, but then to find yourself staying for a couple of decades.
Unfortunately, this is what happens to a lot of people. Many people I have talked to who have worked in the commercial world have gotten to the age of 40-60, only to ask ‘What was the point of it all?’ It’s a shame that it takes people this long to realize that the message that is drilled into us about success is ultimately a lie.

Similarly, I’ve also been offered some quite lucrative part-time jobs, which I have not accepted because I know that if I take them up, it will reduce the time I can spend working with non-profit organizations such as World Vision, The White Ribbon Foundation, and 180 Degrees Consulting.
I guess it all comes down to priorities.

We all die in the end, and at that point the amount of possessions we have accumulated count for nothing.
When was the last time you heard of someone on his or her deathbed say ‘I wish I had worked longer hours to earn more money,’ or ‘I wish I was more famous?’
What’s more common is for people to say ‘I wish I had used my time and money to help others,’ or ‘I wish I had invested more in meaningful relationships.’

To illustrate this in a completely different way, so many times when sportspeople win a major event, they say something along the lines of, ‘It still hasn’t sunk in yet’. I think what they are actually saying is, ‘I’ve worked so hard for this, it’s not as good as I thought it would be, but I’m hoping it’ll get better.’ Wealth and fame rarely make us content. On the other hand, many of the children I have met in Africa and other developing countries are very happy. When you give them a soccer ball or even a balloon, it makes their day. It’s the simple and unselfish things in life that make us content.

I don’t want to spend my life being focused on me – getting money to spend on me, or trying to get famous so people will notice me. I strive not to be someone, but to do something worthwhile. I feel incredibly fortunate to have been given so many opportunities. I feel a deep desire to use whatever abilities I have been given to help those in need. This isn’t something that I want to do for a week or a month, or even a year. It’s something I want to do for my whole lifetime. That’s why I turned down the job offers. That’s why I’m going to, instead, pursue my passion for helping others, particularly through social entrepreneurship and development economics.

I want to do whatever job will enable me to have the largest social impact – whether it is starting up my own social venture, or working with non-profit organizations to develop creative solutions to social problems (similar to my work with 180 Degrees Consulting), or working with social entrepreneurship organizations such as the Skoll Foundation or Ashoka.

I admire the work of people like Jeffrey Sachs, Tim Costello and Muhammad Yunus, but I admire even more the work of people who are not well known, who receive no recognition for their work, yet who day in and day out do what they can to help make the world a better place.

One of my favourite quotes is ‘The path you take with your feet should never contradict the conviction of your heart’. If my heart is in serving others, then the path I take with my feet must be in that direction as well.’

Listening to, and getting to know, Nat a little when he was here, has made me realise more deeply a few key truths:
Firstly, one does not have to reach the age of 65… or be lying on one’s death bed, to be struck with the insights that Nat has shared.
Secondly, if these profound insights do begin to nag at us, disturb our sleep, disrupt our 10 year plan…. then perhaps we should begin to pay attention to them, before the years literally turn into the decades Nat talked about, and we suddenly witness the sackful of pennies dropping, and see all too clearly that, as one cynic put it, ‘we’ve been climbing a ladder that was propped against the wrong wall’.
Thirdly, and all too obviously, our life – and our character- will ultimately reflect every decision we make – whether it is to help out in an orphanage in Africa or to say ‘no’ to a lucrative job offer.

As I reflect on our times with Nat, I know we have met an extraordinary young man, who has been making life decisions since his late teens. And those decisions are based on values infinitely deeper than dollars and peer status.
And it seems to me that were hindsight a commodity that people could invest in or buy- Nat, at 21, has accumulated dividends which are already reaping him more than satisfactory returns

“I gave it away”

Helen — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 05:11:10 +0000

Almost daily, I have been reminded lately – and challenged- about the concept of giving. Not that I haven’t reflected and chewed on this before – many, many times. But several weeks ago, I was privileged to spend a couple of one – on – one hours with a friend who was a full time volunteer at Crossroads for 4 years, and was visiting from the UK…and, yet again, the conversation has, metaphorically speaking, thrown me another gauntlet, and I’d like to share it with you.

Nearly three years ago, my friend’s mother died – with no warning, no tell – tale signs that anything was wrong. She had recently retired from many years teaching, and she and her husband had made the decision to pack up their comfortable lives in England and move to Cambodia to serve the poor. One evening, this much loved woman, one week after her 60th birthday, said goodnight to her husband, went to sleep – and never woke up.

For my friend, the phone call from her dad, telling her the news, changed her life in every conceivable way.

However, that evening several weeks ago, she shared something else with me. almost by accident…

We had been talking about many things, one of them a common topic amongst volunteers here at Crossroads – how we were doing in our support raising, and managing from week to week on no guaranteed finances. I asked her how everything had gone with the sorting of her mum’s estate, and she replied – so casually – ‘Oh, yes I received some of my inheritance..’

“And…” I persisted, “Can you use that to pay for all your college fees this year?”

There was a tangible pause in the conversation.

“Well, no…. ”

I guess we are good enough friends for me to not feel like I was prying by even pursuing a conversation like this. The questioning look on my face must have been enough. My friend, with a casualness that was in itself stunning to me, said, ” I gave it away”.

I’d like her to share with you, in her own words…

‘I was working at a children’s home in Andhra Pradesh, India. Mum had just died and we were sorting things like inheritance etc. Dad emailed me to say that I was to be given 20 thousand pounds now. I was excited thinking I could do all sorts of things with it.

I’d been very ill for a month and a bit, most of it was spent in bed, so all I could do during that time was pray and read the Word. BEST thing I could do eh? During this time I began to be convicted that I was to give my inheritance to the children’s home. Whaaaaaaaat!!!??!

So I reasoned myself out of it, but the conviction kept growing, consuming my thoughts and all the personal desires that were whispering all the things I could do for myself with that amount of money.

I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything while I was trying to work out what I should do.

In the end, the money became almost dirty to me, I needed to get rid of it all and quickly! There became an urgency.

So I spoke with the guy in charge of the children’s home. He was shocked. I told him I felt the need to get rid of the money urgently. In the end, I begged to be able to give him the money!.

The money was used to buy clothes, food and educational stuff for the kids. At this time, there was much strife and persecution in Orissa state, so we were able to help many people there as well. Many other orphanages and children’s homes were helped.

it was truly amazing.

I think that’s about it.‘

How profoundly simple those words – ‘I think that’s about it’. My friend had given away her inheritance of 20,000 pounds ( that’s over AUD $33,000 on today’s exchange) because she had been convicted to.

And following that, she then returned to Hong Kong to work as a volunteer for a further 2 years.

Now I know, truly I know, that some of you reading this will quite understandably have mixed reactions – ‘Wow’, you’re probably thinking, ‘that really is an amazing thing to do, but did she have to give it ALL? Especially, when she herself was going to be a volunteer and in need of financial support herself?’

Well, in my friend’s case, I think her story, told in her own words, makes it clear that, yes, she had to give it all – no matter what the personal outcomes were for her. And the only person she told, apart from the director of the children’s home, was her dad – and he totally supported her decision to ‘give it away’.

I believe we are all being convicted of certain things right now. If we have not allowed our hearts to be hardened by the self - obsessed societies we live in, we WILL be seeing the legitimate needs of others – in many cases right under our proverbial noses. And as we see them, and are moved by them, and have fitful sleep because of them, and perhaps even begin to weep for not caring enough for our ‘neighbours’ – THEN we will begin to make the hard – but oh so beautifully liberating -decisions. For my friend, it was giving away her mother’s inheritance….. what will it be for us?

The Power of One

Helen — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 07:26:15 +0000

I’ve often reflected on the fact that the number one, for me personally, is very significant.

One phone call in 1999 began a journey with one song, called ‘They Told Me This Is Africa’, which continues to shape my music – and the journey of life itself.

Another phone call in 2002 was the first seed sown, in a tilling and ploughing of ‘heart ground’, which brought myself, Jim, and our two children to Hong Kong to serve as volunteers with Crossroads International.

And yet another call, made in 2006 in the upper room of a printing press in Chiang Mai, Thailand, led to a meeting with the leader of the Free Burma Rangers, which has continued to thrust me into issues and situations about which, before then, I virtually knew nothing – and cared the same.

The power of one!

I recall a movie of that title, and an interesting summary of the theme is ‘it is an intriguing story of a young English boy named Peekay and his passion for changing the world.’

The individuals who made the calls in the examples above, have many standout qualities. But perhaps the one that rises above them all is Passion. All are passionate, and have invested their whole lives into a Cause grander and richer and more majestic than simply earning a living and making sure one is set for a ‘secure’ retirement.

All in their unique way desire, and daily work, to see situations change in a world where the majority are powerless to change anything. Not one of them defaults to the position – ‘It’s someone else’s problem’.

THEIR passion I have found irresistible..and this ‘power of one’ continues.

One ‘chance’ meeting with two Kachin refugees in Malaysia, in October 2007, has led to 4 trips back to KL and the priceless blessing of being a small part of a huge story that continues to unfold, and draw in more lives from around the world, who will be the power of one in their circles of influence to bring change and restitution to these people.

One conversation, one book, ( even one paragraph of one chapter of one book), one song, one ticket to somewhere…. be ready to be surprised at how ‘little’ the ‘one’ can be that will alter your perspective, and actually, change your life.