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check in with kelly rae roberts to see how this community is giving back this thanksgiving. exciting!

I always think about this encounter on the day before Thanksgiving. Apologies if you’ve already seen this a hundred times before.

I hope something magical happens to you today in whatever grocery store parking lot you find yourself, and that you leave a little room for something honest and true, no matter how it comes.

That sweet shepherdess of love, my soulsibling Kelly Rae, called me last week to talk about what she could do this holiday to help Odette’s family in Rwanda. What she has decided to invite her community to do is truly amazing; I’m so thrilled I cannot even tell you. If you choose to be a part (and I hope you will!), your name will be entered into a drawing for one of the few original paintings Kelly created during her recent adventure in Italy.

Details here.

self-portrait and editing by Madeleine

Letting your ten year old play around with LightRoom.
Taking a long hot bath.
Renting this movie about love and loss on iTunes.
Making an audacious request for a good cause.
Giving yourself a half an hour to doodle on a piece of paper.
Giving your heart a chance to thaw out.
Re-reading The Alchemist.
Taking a chance on a stranger.
Taking a walk.
Treating your trust notes like fortune cookies from the Universe.
Asking for what you need.
Coming out of the closet about what you’re not.
Buying art supplies.
Defying panic.
Smiling in the mirror.
Pretending to be a queen for a day.
Calling a dear friend.
Cleaning the kitchen.
Chatting it up with a three year old girlfriend.
Holding a newborn baby that’s not so new anymore. (Lyra, I’m coming!)
Taking a nap.

Anything else?

notes above found here

I’m feeling calm this evening, and strangely quieted in my heart, like a little baby held just so in a sweet embrace. Who knows why really, except the Divine Mother who carries us all when we need her and then insists that we stand when the tears have fled.

Gentle comforts for melancholy moods–
Joyful Girl, Ani DiFranco
the lush sounds of this song from PixieGirl (aka hope-FULL girl Krystyn Heide)
Solstice Stories by Jen Lee (you can listen to the introduction on her site)
the absolutely amazing stories of kindred spirit Maggie Doyne (go right to the about page)

Wishing you all every kindness and so much calm this weekend…

from the new TRUST notes, the little lovebombs, the lift tickets, the something something cards, still thinking here. available here in my etsy shop.

It always seems to happen this way.
I take some kind of risk to put myself out there in some way, to state some very true thing I feel in my heart and offer it up to the world. Then I come home and feel totally and completely depleted, wiped out, with no words left and sometimes a little less ummph to carry me to the next part of my journey.

Going to LA was total magic in terms of being with my friends, my dearest soulsisters. So many crazy, insane, amazing things happened there–doors opened, plans hatched, seeds planted. Still, I’m aware this morning that it cost me something to be so honest in my talk, that something about saying all those things out loud cracked me open just a little bit further, and I’m not sure exactly why. The points were simple…

That it’s not rich people giving to poor people, or nice people giving to sad people, but *real* people with limitations and worries and problems giving (and receiving!) from *real* people with limitations and worries and problems.

That it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, busy or bored, worried or blissed out, that everyone of us can give, that everyone one of us makes the world a better place when we give (and receive) with all the tenderness and compassion in our broken, hopeful hearts.

There are few things I believe as deeply as these things–they are simple things–but for some reason I can’t quite name yet, it felt big to say them out loud, in Los Angeles, with three flat screen TVs of my Rwanda photos behind me. I felt vulnerable in a new way, and a little exposed, and in need of kindness myself and so much unconditional love.

I don’t know why I’m a little sad this morning, but I am. I’ve been telling my soulsisters over and over again, that I hope at the end of this journey of reclaiming myself, there is something tender and generous and gentle and intuitive and deep and unspoken and spoken and kind for me. I hope at the end of all this, I hope there is love.

feel free to respond on your own blog today, as comments are closed. what are you hoping for today at the end of this leg of your journey? what is that thing your heart knows that you can be honest about now? let it all out, sisters. i believe in you.

Twenty five tiny notes with twenty-five unique messages tucked into a little chocolate brown envelope. Spread them face down on a table or dump them into the little organza bag they came in and draw one–the very one the Universe knows you need today to be grounded, sure on your feet and willing to step into all the kindness and power firmly planted in your wide expansive heart.

After many years of writing notes like these (for the midwife, for the conference speaker, for my soulsisters, for myself), I am excited to bring you this first edition of an ongoing series. I think this is the kind of gift that truly keeps on giving, no matter what season you find your soul in at this particular moment. You can buy them here.

The only problem is these little notes need a name. Help me find the just right one, and I will happily send a set to the person in your life you most need to encourage right now. Comments are open for your heartfelt suggestions. And many thanks to the Lovebombers who encouraged me daily, telling me over and over again that these words had to be shared with as many people as possible.

More pics coming in a sec…

from the HP event where I spoke (about charitable living) with my soulsister Tracey Clark; photo collage by Chris Sneddon

For doing your work with so much love and joy in your heart.
For giving corporate America a soul.
For believing in the young women you meet and for being willing to mentor, guide and advise.
For being an honest and important part of this community.
For going the extra mile a hundred times over.
For creating the space for true creativity and magic to happen.
For paving a path worth following.
For providing a picture of real service and genuine leadership.
For showing us what it means to be strong and kind.
For offering your presence, when it matters most.
For caring about people more than printers and then making me love printers because I love you.
For all this and more, Karen Cage, welcome to my tribe.

It’s going to be lovely to have you.

I believe you are worthy of love and deserving of kindness.
I believe you are capable and more powerful than you know.
I believe you can find a way through.
I believe there is no shame in saying enough is enough.
I believe you have done your very best.
I believe it’s your turn to be loved.
I believe your talents are rich and wide and will not be wasted.
I believe that everything you need will come to you at the exact right moment.
I believe you can be brave.
I believe you can be bold.
I believe every kindness you have extended will return to you a hundredfold.
I believe this dark, dry season will give way to a magnificent spring.
I believe you can ask for what you need.
I believe you can say no.
I believe all will be well with your soul.
I believe this is not the end of your story.
I believe the doors will open.
I believe the best is yet to come.
I believe in the beauty and power of your gracious, loving heart.

I believe in you.

dedicated to my soulsister f. with love

Innocent (fourth in from left) with his guys from a carpentry cooperative he started in Umutara. He left this to come to Kigali to take care of the girls, but will create new cooperatives in the city when his health returns.

The outpouring of love and caring this weekend still has me a little stunned. This amazing community gave almost $1000 in just twenty-four hours with many, many donations of $5 in the lot. Those little acts of kindness put together make for a powerful base of support for people you have never met so far away, not to mention the contributions of $50 or more several of you gave. It really blows my mind.

Seeing that money come in both relieved and terrified me. Usually when I ask for your help, you send exactly what we need, down to the penny. The thought that we would need $1000 (in Rwanda, of all places) to solve these problems is unfathomable to me, but sure enough by yesterday…

Lillian (Odette’s younger daughter) needed to be taken to the clinic to rule out TB (she’s sick but the doctors don’t think it’s something that serious–thank God!)

Grace was sent home with prescriptions to fill and a nice little hospital bill. Betty will stay on to take care of her around the clock until we figure out what’s wrong with Innocent.

Innocent was given five very expensive prescriptions to try before going for the CAT scan. That didn’t make any of us feel great, especially since the explanation from the doctor was very vague and dismissive of some of his other health issues. Because we have the cash on hand, we were able to send him to the big hospital to get the CAT scan anyway along with a second, more detailed opinion. If the second doctor agrees the medications make sense and no further intervention is needed, we have the money for that, too.

We’re waiting now to see what will happen next. Things move so slowly in Africa (including people who must walk, wait–while sick–to take many modes of transportation in order to get from point A to point B), but I feel hopeful that things will be resolved and that a little bit of help will go a long, long way.

In the middle of all this, Odette was discharged from the hospital (it’s been a crazy weekend) and is camped out at home, getting a primer on her Americana with movies like Mary Poppins, Heidi and The Sound of Music. I’m so glad to have her back. She is an amazing manager and has a shrewd economic sense. With a handful of phonecards, she can move mountains, and I’ve been impressed at her savvy in managing these details and deciding how we can best leverage our resources to cover everyone’s needs and also get the best care available to us.

Okay. I’m tired! I could easily turn this blog into a running health update, but I thought it might be so much better to start a Facebook Group for Friends of Odette who’d be interested in all these little details. It’s an open group–anyone can join, and it can also be a place where you could leave messages for Odette and she could respond when she’s able. I won’t be scared now to tell you in this space, too, when things are big and feel overwhelming. Your kindness to me these last few days really has buoyed me and given me courage.

Thank you for caring and for being willing to love people you have never met. We don’t know how to thank you.

Odette’s mom and Innocent, her youngest son

1. Almost everyday Odette or I call Rwanda to get the news about the girls, her mom and various family members and friends we love and care for.

2. To call Rwanda, we need phonecards. These phonecards are cheap (about $2 to talk for 20 minutes) but they don’t always work properly. When they do work properly, the cell phone network in Rwanda does not work properly. Sometimes it can take three or four tries a several times a day to get through.

3. Because the mail to/from Rwanda is so unreliable, we are constantly playing phone tag with strangers who’ve we’ve heard through the grapevine may/may not be going to/from Rwanda. This is our primary way to get important documents related to the girls back and forth. Shockingly, this system works 99.9% of the time.

4. I’ve started thinking all this is normal.

5. Odette’s favorite English words are “ridiculous” and “disaster” which is good because it always gives me a good laugh when we are caught in the insanity of #2 or #3.

6. We have many other children and projects we are supporting that we never talk about on the blog. Last week, for instance, we sent money someone sent us to pay for Odette’s sister-in-law to go to driving school. The week before that we helped Odette’s niece join a banana co-op, so she can turn a pretty profit at the market. A month before that we sent two little girls to a little nursery school under the trees for pennies.

7. The women (and girls) we help feel like they are the shit when they get these opportunities. Odette and I tell them it’s true. Other family members fear we are making them too big for their britches. We hope so.

8. Odette’s been in the hospital for ONE MONTH following complications from her surgery. We both have a little crush on her surgeon who is older, but very cute, and thank God because otherwise we might want to kill him if we didn’t know he’s one of the best surgeons around.

9. If you go to the hospital in Rwanda and they decide to admit you, one of your family members has to go back and forth and bring you breakfast, lunch and dinner. THERE IS NO CLEAN FRESH WATER IN THE HOSPITAL, so they will have to bring you water, too. Same goes if your husband beats you and the police put him in jail. If no one feeds you either place, you have to go home.

10. Once a day I flip out on the inside thinking about #9. This makes me crazy.

11. As soon as Grace got better from having TB, she immediately contracted malaria–a very strong, severe case. We have no money for this. She is in the hospital right now and her immune system is shot from so many years of various illness.

12. Our friend Betty is running back and forth to the hospital taking care of Grace because Innocent (Odette’s brother and the girls primary caretaker) is severely ill due to complications from his genocide wounds & can’t see a doctor until Monday. Betty is an orphan who walked (yes, you read that right) walked from the Congo to Rwanda with her sister when she was 13 years old. She is in her early 20’s now and has found ways to stay in school, even though it’s taking her forever to finish high school & she floats from kind person’s house to kind person’s house. She wants to be a doctor someday.

Odette’s mom Esther, our friend Betty and Lillian, in the village

13. I try not to let my mind go here, but if Innocent does not get adequate care and (God forbid) dies (and people die all the time for stupid treatable reasons in Africa) a lot of people will be toast. He is caring and watching out for a wide network of widows and orphans, including Odette’s girls and people like Betty. He’s also our main contact on distributing funds and overseeing who needs what, when. His health problems right now are related to complications with old genocide injuries. Aside from all this, he’s the last person on earth you want to see suffer.

14. I’m going to Los Angeles this week to talk about charitable giving for a private gathering for a Very Lovely Large Corporation. I think they have no idea what charitable giving looks like in my world and how funny that term sounds to me right now. What else could they call it? Charitable living? (Write me if you want to come!)

15. There are NO organizations that I know of (and someone out there PLEASE prove me wrong) that provide health care for survivors of the genocide. If you want to weave a basket or get counseling for post traumatic stress disorder, no problem, but if the wounds you received in attacks designed to kill you create long term complications, you are on your own.

16. There is only one CAT scan machine in Rwanda and very few doctors who know how to use it. Of course, if that CAT scan reveals you need surgery, you have to get a transfer to Nairobi (Kenya) or Pretoria (South Africa). Of course, you can’t get a CAT scan without going through a maze of referrals.
Of course, every military doctor I talk to in America tells me Innocent needs a CAT scan. Of course, there is no emergency care on weekends and he is in excruciating pain *right now* after a month of standing in lines in order to obtain the elusive CAT scan referral. Of course, this makes us crazy.

17. I feel helpless most of the time and am making peace with the fact that I don’t know what will happen next and there’s not much I can do about it.

18. I feel calm most of the time and am experiencing a lot of joy in being present. In a weird way, it really isn’t that hard, even though the logistics are frustrating.

19. If you are still reading this list, I love you. These are the kinds of things I mostly don’t talk about because I think people will get sick of hearing it or will want to fix it or will tell me I’m being dysfunctional or will not understand or will think that something is wrong or will be jealous of my diverted attention or will hate me. I know this is irrational, but so am I sometimes.

20. If I die tomorrow, I’ll die happy. In case you were wondering.

All the funds from this post will go towards creating an Odette Family Health Fund to cover emergencies, doctor visits, CAT scans (which run around $250) and other health needs. As always, even donations of $5 make a big difference when we’re all in this together.