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Reina and Madeleine.

I only have a second, but I wanted you to know we finally have news about Grace. After further tests the doctors are convinced that she does have TB. Odette said this morning that Grace has been crying since her diagnosis and has been refusing to eat and that the medications are really bothering her. We only had a minute to talk this morning, but O. said she thinks Grace has lost all hope. I’ve been wandering around the house wondering if there is anything at all I can take her (besides her very own mother or 2000 bouncy balls and 2000 zines) that would help her feel even a little bit better. This poor kid has been through the ringer.

There’s more I could say, but I’m in recovery mode after two near-all nighters on the zine. I’m desperately relieved to say that it is finally in the hands of a new printer, after a few near disasters yesterday–one of which included the old printer forgetting to mention that shipping would be an extra $1000. Needless to say he did not get the job. What the new printer lacks in cheap prices, he makes up for in cheerfulness and a sterling good character. I feel glad the job will be done locally, too.

I’ll keep you updated on Grace. I feel so bad for her. I am so incredibly hopeful that I can give her the tiniest bit of comfort and even more courage when I arrive next week. Let’s hope.

one proud chicken from the upcoming zine

The whole gist of Odette’s zine-story about finding a way to make money in the refugee camps is that even when you think you have nothing, you can take that nothing and make magic out of it. For Odette and her brother Innocent, that “nothing” was a few chickens and a whole lotta chicken eggs. By pooling their eggs (and their eventual sales) with other children these little kids were able to send five more to school and keep enough money on hand to function as a small business mini-loan office for the struggling adults around them. It’s one of my favorite power stories of all time.

It’s incredibly tempting to get into a space where you fear there isn’t enough or anything at all to help you out of a tight spot. Seeing the world through the eyes of scarcity is the gateway drug to all misery. It has taken me years to crawl out of that hole and many more to stay out. Going to Africa, the universal symbol for “not enough” in the modern mind, will test that, I can only imagine. Still, I can’t help but hope I don’t miss abundance. Sob stories don’t get you nearly as far as tales of the wild abundance of trusting hearts.

Whenever you set your heart on such lessons, the Universe laughs and then sends you a barage of test questions, along with a real life exam. I’m taking mine right now, wondering what hidden source of skill or strength is waiting for me to notice her so I can make some magic out of those zine pages.

It will require a small miracle or actually starting the dishwasher. But why not?

Yesterday brought a tent, a camera and maybe even a cow. Stranger things have happened, no?

What under-utilized resource is waiting for your able hands this morning? I’m finding out I can do so much more than I ever imagined, one tiny step at a time.

the amazing open-hearted Cate and her HopeRevo card for a special girl in Rwanda

We are holding our breath this morning, waiting to hear more news about Grace. The specialist who saw her over the weekend was not convinced that the TB diagnosis was accurate (!!!!) and is sending her to a second hospital for more conclusive tests. I have no idea what this means or what it will reveal, but this little bit of movement in the story tremendously helped lift the mood around here, to put it mildly. That and one very pink cell phone.

If Grace doesn’t have TB, that is so huge, I can’t tell you, but it’s critical that they find out what is wrong and address it as soon as possible.

The next four days are loaded for me as I work towards sending the zine to print (yikes!) and begin compiling and organizing all the things I have to take to Odette’s girls and all the other kids I meet. One thing I have loved about African culture is the way my African friends truly embody the phrase we throw around lightly “no child left behind.” If Odette (or Fatou for that matter) had her way, I would be taking a new set of clothes, a journal, a pen, a pencil, a small toy, a zine and a piece of chocolate to every child in Rwanda. I’m sure the good people at Ethiopian Airlines will not be batting an eye when they see me, my 2000 bouncy balls (thanks, Grace McLaren!) and all my luggage coming.

If you want to send something small with me for Grace especially or the other kids I meet, there are two things I could take very easily:

1. A small thinking of you card for Grace–nothing bigger than 5×7. Grace has been feeling so down and a little bit forgotten with her mom so far away, and I can only imagine how notes from faraway friends would cheer her. Email me and I’ll tell you where to send it. English is fine.
2. A Hope Note a la HopeRevo. This is way to honor the Africa in you (go read the article, in case you haven’t already). You’ll be encouraging a little girl you’ve never met and taking into your heart a kind of hospitality and openness that will do the world good. Mail these to the address below and and my partner-in-hope Krystyn Heide will get these to me just in time.

Hope Revolution
195 Arizona Ave
Box 173
Atlanta GA 30307

If none of this appeals to you or isn’t quite possible right now, you can still throw money in the pot. So far this money has purchased 1 airline ticket, immunizations for me and malaria medication, art supplies to create the zine, 2000 zines for distribution in Rwanda and for sale here (the zine sales in the US will pay royalties to Odette and serve as an income stream for her and her brother Innocent) and one domain name (girlpowerafrica.org). Do you feel amazing yet? Each dollar along with each word of encouragement has been like a little seed growing big ideas and more means and connections to make miracles happen.

I’m still wheeling and dealing to find and take to Innocent (Odette’s brother and my soulbrother, truly–I adore this guy):
A cow
A tent
A camera

I know. I have lost my mind. But more on that later.

Hold onto hope. The tiniest thread will twist into an unbreakable cord. Let hope anchor you in the possibility that this is not the end of your story, that change will bring you to peaceful shores.

Here are two women who will make you believe in hope, and better yet, give you courage to trust. That you will not be found foolish for believing. That you will not be disappointed anytime you give your heart over to goodness, to love.

Fatou and Masahwa, today I am honored to know you both. I feel incredibly thankful for your friendship and all the ways you have patiently helped me understand both my role and my invitation to see Africa with the eyes of a lover. I am forever in your debt.

from the upcoming zine “Let’s Learn How To Help Ourselves and Others” by Odette, illustrations by me. I’ll take at least 1000 copies of this book to schools in Rwanda in May on my visit to see Odette’s girls thanks to your contributions. details here.

I wish I were writing today to say we have news, but we are still in a holding pattern waiting to see what’s going on with Grace, hear her exact prognosis and find out what needs to happen next. Only kindness matters in moments like this.

The brother who carries the child to the better hospital.
The sister-in-law who opens her home while Grace waits to be admitted, even though her own little children will be at risk now.
The friend who offers to pay for the cell phone so Odette can call (and be called) any time of night or day.
The family patriarch who calls to say with so much love there is no need to worry. Everything is unfolding exactly as it should were his words exactly.

I wish I could say I am a good believer in times like these. Instead, I ask Odette every few days, “Do you still believe in God?” She always answers yes. And then I say something like, “Well, I think he’s doing a very bad job with your case.” Worst performance by a diety. Ever. And then we argue about that for awhile, until it’s time to go home and light candles and pray.

The truth is even now I can’t help but believe that something greater is holding us. Even though my first instinct in any crisis is to call Oprah first, trust later. Still. I can’t shake the sense that no matter what happens we are not alone or forgotten. I don’t understand that thing or whatever it is holding us. But I can’t help but put my eggs in that basket. And I can’t help but think that some part of that thing is us and all the ways we dare to trust together.

Yesterday, my dearest Lourdes came to the house to check on me. I’ve known Lourdes for many years before I ever met Odette. In so many ways, she has been with me from the beginning, teaching me about how to be in the world, showing me so gently the dignity and grace that is required from making peace with uncertainty.

“There are so many Graces,” she tells me gently as we walk. And I know in my heart it’s true.

These are the realities that overwhelm us, that leave us guilty and feeling powerless. These are the things that make us turn away because we don’t know what to do. But Lourdes has taught me over years that it is not the solution (or deity or the money or the power) that transforms these situations as much as the compassion. With kindness all things become possible.

Kindness may cost you, but it will not kill you. This I know from experience. Kindness is the one thing that will open an impossible door. It is the way forward when words no longer serve. It is the path to happiness and also peace, when all other paths have failed. It requires courage to believe this and more to act on it, but kindness grants that, too. She’s magic that way.

I have to believe along with Odette that Kindness will grant Grace exactly what she needs. That Kindness will reveal the perfect course of action. That Kindness will heal her body and her soul, one moment at a time. That Kindness will be the force at play to bring a family back together, even when circumstances complicate and cloud. That Kindness holds all the scattered pieces into one whole, even when hope and so many dreams sometimes fall apart.

Here is a collection of kindnesses that you offered us over the last few days. Because of these words and your love, our load has been so much lighter, and we have had the luxury to argue over stupid things and eat ice cream and be completely honest with each other in all of this. It’s been a mess, but I’m okay and more importantly, Odette is okay–even while nothing is okay, if that makes any sense.

Thank you for carrying us with your kindness. It means the world.

We received word today that Odette’s oldest daughter Grace (12) has been diagnosed with TB. You can read more about TB here. Grace had undiagnosed malaria earlier this year–we moved mountains to get her hospitalized and treated, and have the kindness of strangers to thank for that little miracle. After that, we thought Grace was on the mend, but her malaria symptoms started coming back late last week and her overall health has not improved. This time around Odette found a way for her to go to a different hospital where she received a more thorough evaluation, revealing that she not only had TB, but that one of her lungs was severely damaged. She is very, very sick, as you can imagine, and afraid.

I have never seen Odette this sad or scared. Some of you have asked what it would take to bring the girls here. Please know we are aggressively and actively working on this right now (as we have been for some time) and have every reason to believe the proper papers will come. Odette has been asked to stay here for the interim in order to ensure this process. If I could say more, I would, believe me.

I am trying to remain hopeful, but I have to be totally honest and say that I am very scared, too. Please light a candle for Grace that her life would be saved, for Odette that she would be okay in her heart and for me that I will be however I need to be. I’m not sure if that’s a rock of strength or a flow of tears. I am so worried. Odette is asking me if I think Grace will be okay and I don’t know what to say.

I’m sorry to be such a downer, but this is what’s happening right now. We appreciate you all more than you will ever, ever know.

good friends who still get in amazing amounts of trouble having too much fun

This morning I’m not feeling the love so much as last night I experienced what appears to be a fatal hard drive crash on my computer. This is the third hard drive crash I’ve had in less than two years, so I’m beginning to wonder if it’s me. I heart you technology! Please stop breaking up with me!

Thankfully, Nick had compassion on me and went into immediate crisis mode as I produced one after another of the wrong disk for whatever magical task he needed to do to bring this baby (and 60% of my photos, all my music and some other random things) back to life. How many hard drive crashes does one person need to decide to back-up regularly and systematically? In the end, we decided to put off the rescue mission and get me up and running ASAP. I have a new (bigger, better?) hard drive on the way and some other thing we need to try to get my data off cleanly before braving the Apple Store Geniuses, my least favorite teenagers on earth. I hate to say it, but it’s true.

So.

It’s Love Thursday. Hard drive crashes in the middle of major projects or not, there are still these two on the swing. Still Odette in all her magic. Still this art accumulated in stacks in my studio, waiting for the scanner. Still this excitement about seeing Odette’s girls, about taking this book, about the warm welcome waiting for me in Rwanda as more people hear about our project and want to help us get the book into as many little hands as possible. You can read about it here (and still give if you want in on the madness–every penny from here on out will go towards printing more books.)

I’m taking a deep breath and praying for ridiculously cheap prices from the world’s best printer today and a little bit of peace for this technology shaped hole in my heart.

How about you?

a watercolor and ink painting of odette and her brother innocent from our upcoming zine

A much-needed phone call from my friend and favorite superhero Andrea helped me breakthrough a crisis in perspective today. I’ve had myself all wound up thinking I had to be in hyper-vigilant mode to get the art finished for this zine. Since everything else about this project has been falling into place effortlessly, the contrast in my approach to this part of the project was sticking out and making me stuck.

Do I have to be in crisis-mode to get something done?
Do I have to create an atmosphere of difficulty and struggle to stay true to my tasks?
Do I have to be serious to finish? What are my other options and how can I access them?

We talked for a long time as A. helped me try on some different ways of looking at the project, seeing it first through my current perspective, and then trying on a few others, just for fun. Right now I’m working on seeing things through the perspective of these darling illustrated chickens I just painted who happen to play a starring role in our zine. Don’t laugh!–it’s working magic for me and I have a wonderful late afternoon burst of energy for my work! Maybe things don’t have to be quite as serious as I thought.

Isn’t it funny how we lock ourselves in to seeing our life and our work one particular way to the exclusion of all others? I double dog dare you to try on a new perspective today and find yourself delighted in what happens next.

I want to get back to work, but not before asking you to check out the HopeREVO.com post about sending love notes to Africa via my suitcase.

UPDATE: Some of you have asked about what I’m using supply-wise for this project. I hope someday soon to write a post on this subject, but the quick version is this: Bristol board (smooth) by Strathmore (or whatever’s on sale) or hot pressed watercolor paper made by Arches (if I have extra cash). Calli ink in black for outline. Fill in color for this project is Winston Newton Drawing Inks.

Thank you so much for all the input on how to get going when you feel overwhelmed. It’s the best list ever. A few of those tricks and I’ve been busy at work in my studio ever since. There are a whole new set of challenges in that space, but thankfully I have this dear girl above to set me straight!

Yesterday I spent the better part of the day fighting with my scanner and barking at everyone and anyone who dared interrupt to ask me a question or bring me good cheer. Madeleine was one of the recipients of my anger, and instead of barking back, she decided to leave this picture on my computer screen, along with a few others and a very loving note.

Most of the note should remain private, but one part seems fitting for these pages. She asked me oh-so-gently in the way only a sage-child can, if I’d mind saying why I was so mad, that she hated to bring it up on such a stressful day, but she’d love to know–”Is it the scanner, something else, or me?” And then she told me she loved me. Under this picture was the caption: It’s all so wonderfully true!

Who’s the grown-up now, I wonder?

This kind truth from Madeleine helped me entertain another–that my family had absolutely no idea that my anger (while directed at them) had absolutely nothing to do with any one of them. And that most days, I’m too quick to find something or someone to blame when I’m mad–when the real problem is not someone else, not the scanner, but Me.

The Me who thinks everything (and everyone) should cooperate immediately and without question.
The Me who thinks that technology should be all about pleasing me and not-so-much about asking me to master new skills.
The Me who thinks that my timetable and my demands are reasonable (let’s go to Rwanda and illustrate a book before we go! all in three weeks!) even when all the information available reveals otherwise.

Mad’s willingness to ask me what was wrong without judging me helped me out of this particular hole last night. If this isn’t grace, I don’t know what is. I feel so, so thankful.

Today I climb back up those stairs, back to the Tower and to that Me and that scanner. I hope this time around, I’ll have a little more patience and little more grace not only for this–but for these dear ones who love me the most.

Carter on Saturday. Love this boy and his wild, messy, deep ways–so much.

Lots of stress roaming the floors of my house this morning. I feel the discontent rising in the air along with the stress of taking on tasks that would usually take months, not weeks. This always seems to happen when I’m on the edge of something. I never know if this is just the way things are or if I manufacture a special kind of chaos at the exact moment when calm would be just fine.

For the sake of my mental health, here’s a reminder list of things that usher quiet back into my world when I start to feel scared or overwhelmed.

1. Taking pictures. Just a few seconds of someone or something I love will do the trick.
2. Lying in the grass of my backyard.
3. A cup of tea.
4. Talking nicely to myself, telling myself kind things.
5. Breathing. Deeply. Slowly.
6. Taking a walk. Or paying attention on the little walks I do everyday, like taking the kids to school.
7. Listening.
8. Playing with paints as opposed to working with them.
9. Soaking in sounds of a kindred spirit. Today might be a day for The Innocence Mission (thanks, Jen) or maybe The Weepies. Or if I need to know my power, Ani, the truest mentor on my path.
10. Letting go of judgment and not holding it too close if people around me are angry or sad.
11. Doing a simple thing. Like unloading the dishwasher or picking paper up off the floor.
12. Climbing up the stairs to The Tower and doing my work, one little line at a time.

What helps you do your work when stress is rising? I’d love to know in the comments below.