In 2006, my youngest children were ages 14 and 16. I had become concerned by the ways external media was nudging their world views into concern with self. Ads showed ridiculously skinny models, ridiculously big houses, and all things glittery. It all felt like propaganda from Vanity Fair. My children were not getting a sense of how most of the world lived. They were spoiled by their privilege and unaware that for many, having a working toilet was an extravagance.
I had been transformed by what I had seen and the people I had met in Guatemala as a young woman. My father, a linguist, was studying a Mayan dialect in Patsun, so our family lived there for four months in 1974-5. To make a phone call, we had to go to the post office. Women would walk to the town well every morning for the day’s water. Men urinated against walls on the street, and women found more discreet places–but there were no public restrooms. There was no make-up, no hair dye, no fancy clothes. In fact, most of the women wore identical huipiles, distinguishing themselves by their embroidery.
I was transformed by my time there. Oh, I hated it at first. That was predictable. But the more I got to know the people, the more I loved them, the more honored I felt to be in their presence.
I returned to Guatemala four more times after that first adventure. The last time I was there, I had my two youngest with me. We lived in a cottage which had a bathroom and the luxury of a refrigerator. Oh, they hated the place just much as I had in 1974, but they bonded with the children they were teaching.
On our last day there , my daughter stood still in the wild greenery and said, “I just want to feel the love.”
I have noticed that many LDS men and women return to the countries where they once served missions. Often, they give additional service, such as building schools. My children and I taught at “Colegio Mesoamericano,” founded by a man I had known when he was a missionary in 1975. Humanitarian organizations throughout the world are often inspired by early “mission trips” of many denominations.
It is not always practical to go to poor countries for such”heart work,” but it is easy to serve the poor, especially during Christmas. I love Giving machines.
In under a minute, holiday shoppers can purchase items for those truly in need. These items may include chickens and goats, blankets, hygiene kits, solar lamps, hot meals, polio vaccines, school desks, a community well. Purchasing something for a family on the other side of the world is as easy as buying a candy bar from a vending machine. Insert credit card, choose item[s], push the button, and you’re done.
I will be using a giving machine with my grandchildren this year. I might also show them photos of people I know and love who live in poverty. My grandchildren know that I travel to Africa often, but have no idea what kind of poverty I see there, and what I do to remedy it (with Congo Rising, our humanitarian organization). More importantly, they do not know how deeply I love the people.
I want them realize not just that there are people all over the world who need help, but that they, in all their privilege, have a responsibility to expand their hearts, to “feel the love” of unity based in our common humanity. They will find that the more they do this, the more they will recognize the divinity of all mankind, the more they will learn to see greatness wherever it’s found. Even in a manger.
To find a giving machine in your area, look here.
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