I have a terrible habit of not finishing beverages. Size doesn’t matter. Whether it’s a 16 oz bottle of water or an 8 oz tiny can of Diet Coke, I don’t finish it.

Bottled water for some reason takes the brunt of my compulsion. It’s embarrassing to admit but there are times where I’ll just take a sip or two of a bottle of water and never touch it again.

Such was the case with the bottle of water in my car. It was the middle of August and on this particular day I grabbed a bottle of water on my way out to run errands. I took two sips and it had been boiling in my car ever since.

On my way home from visiting a friend a few days later, I realized I was extremely thirsty. I hadn’t had a bit of water all day.

Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper?

Yes.

Lots of sips.

Water?

No.

As I looked around my car, this forlorn bottle of water sat in my passenger seat. It was the only relief in sight and my forty-five minute drive began to feel like six hours as the sun began to burn my left arm.

“It’s not like it’s contaminated,” I reassured myself. “It’s just really, really warm. That’s all. You can drink it. It’s okay…”

I unscrewed the blue cap, letting a bit of the air out of the bottle and took a gulp.

Warm and plasticky.

Delightful.

I began wondering how healthy this water could actually be if all I tasted was plastic. I thought about the segment on The Today Show where they compared the different numbers of the different plastics and I tried to remember which ones were toxic. Because I’m sure whatever it was I was drinking was not safe for consumption.

The heat of the water I was drinking, the droplets of sweat forming in the small of my back, and the sun being magnified by my untinted windows took me back to my trip to India earlier this year.

And this hot little bottle of water made me think of a little boy I met named Tushar.

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Tushar is a five year old who lives three hours outside of Kolkata. A few months ago, my husband and I began sponsoring him through an organization called Compassion International.

When I was in India, a few days before I left, I had the chance to meet Tushar and his father. They took a train from their village into the city. The translator introduced us and I realized Tushar’s dad was holding a bag and would occasionally take out a bottle of water for his son.

The bottle of water wasn’t like anything you or I would see, much less drink from, here in the States. There was no label. The outside was scratched.

Yet what was most surprising was what kind of water the bottle contained.

If I didn’t know better, I would think it was sun tea with lemon. It was a light brown, with little pieces of something floating in it.

But it was Tushar’s water. His drinking water. Water that was so precious, his father helped him ration it throughout their trip.

After a visit to Science City, a museum that would be considered totally odd and possibly unsafe by Western standards, we went to a building that would be parallel to a Western mall. It had stores and a food court.

And it was lunch time.

Our host went to some of the restaurants to get us all something to drink. She came back with ice-cold bottled water.

Clean, never opened, cold bottled water.

Tushar’s dad reached across the table to open his bottle. Tushar leaned forward to take his first sip and when he grabbed the bottle for the first time, he immediately dropped it back on the table like it had bit him, almost spilling it. He pulled away and giggled.

I was a little confused but very much intrigued by his reaction. He wiped the condensation off his hand and reached forward for the bottle of water again. This time he didn’t grab it. He merely touched it with a couple of his fingers.

And Tushar giggled again.

Finally I realized something. He’s never touched anything cold before.

The area of India that he lives in rarely sees temperatures below 60 degrees.

The cold surprised him.

But in a good way.

Playfully, I poured cold water from my bottle into the tiny blue cap and splashed him with it.

He.

Freaked.

Out.

We continued our little water fight until his dad moved his bottle closer to him, as to say “this is for drinking and not for playing,” and Tushar sat up, knowing his dad was serious, and took a sip.

His eyes got wide as he felt the cold water slide down the back of his throat. When it reached his stomach, he grabbed his belly and grinned and giggled.

Drinking cold water was such a new experience for this little boy.

***

So, here I was, between Nashville and Franklin, Tennessee on I-65 contemplating the level of “poison” in my completely safe water and I wondered about Tushar and what he’s doing today. I wondered about his bottle of water. I doubt he was drinking anything nearly as clean or as available as I was. In fact, I doubt he had tasted water as cold or as clean since our time in the food court.

I held back the tears that so wanted to escape and travel down my face because of the unfairness of it all.

I wonder how many bottles of water I’ve carelessly and needlessly thrown away when a little boy and his family are grateful to have their dirty water in a bottle they found and probably share and hold dear.

For Pete’s sake. Even my cat has access to cleaner water than Tushar.

I can’t send Tushar clean water in the mail. I can’t take it to him or even make sure that he can access it.

It’s a helpless feeling.

And it’s easy to ignore because it is so overwhelming.

What can I do? I can give Tushar a voice. I can speak for him by telling his story. You’re reading about him now. Maybe you’ll want to share his story too.

We may not be able to fix every problem we see, but we can allow the stories we hear to remind us of the incredible responsibility we have to share the needs of a broken world.

These stories can awaken us and inspire us to act. To donate money to a water charity or go on a trip to build a well or to take some clean water to the homeless in our own cities and towns.

***

So, now that you know, what will you do?

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A few months ago, we had a friend visit the Compassion International Ethiopia offices. Since we sponsor a boy, Abdulkerim, in Ethiopia, we asked our friend to drop off a bag with some small gifts for him. The Compassion country staff would make sure our child got the items on their next visit out to his project.

Right before we moved to our new house, we got a new photo of Abdulkerim. He has grown so much in the three years we’ve sponsored him.

And Friday, we got another letter from him. But this one was a little different.

He wrote thanking us for the gifts – some toys, some utensils and fabric for his parents and some candy…oh, and a sock monkey. I used to sleep with one at my grandma’s house when we’d visit her, and while we were out shopping for him, we saw one. Every kid needs to experience a sock monkey.

So off the sock monkey went to Ethiopia.

We continued reading his letter…they were also able to buy some clothes, shoes, 30 kilos of wheat, soap, and educational materials with an extra financial donation we send for his birthday.

And then he said,

“As you can see in the picture, we live in a hut.”

Picture? What picture?

We flipped the letter over and stapled on the back was this.

Abdulkerim in front of his house holding the sock monkey.

The sock monkey who was purchased for a few bucks at a Target in Nashville and traveled 8000 miles to a little boy in Ethiopia.

Overwhelmed can hardly describe the emotion that washed over me. The little boy we shared letters with and even shared pictures with suddenly became even more real to me. This hut is where he sleeps. With his six family members.

Seven people sleep in his home.

And now if you count the sock monkey…eight.

It was hard to keep reading after seeing the photo, but there was more. He told us how he learned about Daniel and his three friends. Oh, and Elijah. And he told us how he celebrated Easter at church.

How can we pray for him? He asked us to pray that his family believes in Jesus. Which probably means that he already does. Which probably means he has found the hope and faith in which humanity searches and he knows how badly his family needs that same hope and faith.

Sometimes, we think we’re so “blessed” to be able to sponsor three kids and I think subconsciously believe what a difference we are making in their lives…which is very true to some extent. But I doubt that Abdulkerim has a clue just how much he has impacted Chris and me.

How when our faith is lacking or our pride is too big or we think our needs aren’t being met…all we have to do is think of this eight year old boy and how incredibly beautiful he is and it’s like Jesus himself reaches over the Atlantic ocean and saves us all over again.

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If you are interested in sponsoring a child, click here.

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The results are in.

Over 400 of you took my FlowerDust.net reader survey and I thought I’d share some intresting demographics about you group of crazy kids.

If you’re interested in all the details, you can download a nifty PDF I made of the results here.

• 60% of the readers who took the survey are women. Which honestly makes me believe it’s pretty evenly split. No offense guys, but I think women are more willing to take surveys than you are. :)
• 31.6% of you are aged 25-31, with the next largest group by age is 32-40 (27.2%)
• 94% have at least some college education, if not more. 23.2% have a grad degree (or two).
• You guys have some money. 32% make between $35k-65k a year. Almost 30% make $65k-100k. And 18% of you make $100k or more annually.
• 118 countries were represented. The USA had the most visits.
• Texas sends the most visitors within the US, followed by California and Tennessee.
• 51% of you attend a church activity at least once a week.
• Almost 24% are on a church staff. 11% of you “formerly” served in church leadership…interesting.
• 60% attend 1-2 conferences a year.
• You love to read! Almost 33% read twenty books or more annually.
• A surprising 31% of you don’t blog, but are active on Facebook (89.7%) and Twitter (71.1%)
• 36% read new FlowerDust.net posts as soon as they are up, and 52% “usually” read them.
• About half of you are new – have been around for under six months, but almost 29% have been reading for at least a year, if not two or three.
• Most people get their posts through RSS (51%) and found FlowerDust.net because of someone’s blogroll (29%) or an article I wrote (21%)
• THANK YOU to the 62% who have recommended something on FlowerDust.net to a friend!
• Your favorite topics? Social Justice, Compassion International trips and other travel, controversial/taboo topics, women and leadership, honest struggles, church life, burnout, depression, anxiety, book reviews, spiritual revelations and videos.

What do you think? Any surprises? Anything you’d like to add?

Thank you all for helping…it was really insightful!

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Once upon a time I wanted to kill myself.

Seriously.

I was 19…maybe 20 years old…and had an amazing life. I was earning a ton of money working at a trendy dot.com in Dallas, living in a fabulous Dallas studio over a nightclub, driving a new Mustang convertible, had a personal shopping assistant at Nordstrom (who knew my name, my size, my style, and I’d go in once a week to get what he thought was new and best for me).? When the dot.com went public, my earnings would go into six figures (it never went public, by the way) and well, everything seemed to rock.

Except I was over $40,000 in debt.

I couldn’t pay my bills.

And as I drove to my nifty little loft I looked at the parking garage and wondered if it was high enough to kill me if I jumped.

No joke.

So that was ten years ago.

Five years ago, things looked a little better. Chris and I were newlyweds. I had paid off most of my debt…well, 75% of it anyway. We bought some new fancy furniture for our new fancy apartment because we wanted to keep up with the Pottery Barn lifestyle of the suburbs of Johnson County, Kansas. So we added a few thousand more bucks to the pool of debt.

And we couldn’t pay our bills.

And we’d take out payday loans to get us by.

(Don’t ever, EVER do that.)

So that was five years ago.

Three years ago, after having an expensive gall bladder surgery (which carried a hefty price tag of $12k) we sought help from a financial counselor. We negotiated all of our credit card interest rates. We chopped them all up except for two, $300 cards only to be used in emergencies (and to keep a credit line open which is actually good for your credit score). We saved. For the first time in a long time we tithed.? We still screwed up. We still took out pay day loans. But it was getting better.

So that was three years ago.

One year ago, we paid off all of our credit cards. We only have a couple thousand left in medical bills. We still have two stupid car payments, but we will drive these cars until they rot.

In the last year, we’ve made decisions that have cut our monthly expenses almost in half. Here are some (not all) of the things we’ve done. And keep in mind…this wasn’t an overnight flip (although some of them were). We prayed, begged, negotiated, bartered and we still will continue to ask how we can better manage our finances.

• DOWNSIZING! We’re moving in June from West Nashville to Franklin (a southern suburb of Nashville)…our friends own a cottage that they are leasing to us for a more than reasonable rate. It’s small. It’s 800 square feet. It has one bedroom. It has one bathroom. We’re losing a basement, a garage, an office, and a half bath. But we are gaining a good $300/month in housing expenses because of paying less for rent, having less square footage to heat and cool, and we don’t have to rent any appliances. (Oh, and 800 sq ft forces one to declutter. I hate clutter. We moved in with 35 boxes of stuff (and I realize that isn’t a lot). It’s my goal to move out with 25 boxes. Or less.)
• EATING OUT! We limit our eating out to one meal a week (of each). One coffee, one lunch, one dinner. Sometimes we share. And we always have leftovers. This saves us about $300/month from our typical habits. It adds up.
• NO SHOWTIME! We cut our cable plan to basic cable. This saves us about $50/month.
• HELLO? No home telephone. $30/month.
• WIFI NOWHERES! We used to have a wireless card. We don’t anymore. $30/month.
• GEICO GECKO! Shopped our car insurance. Saved $150/month.
• CUT THE CARDS! Did I mention no credit cards? Saved $600/month.
• CUT THE FAT! We don’t buy much junk food. Saved $100/month. And love handles.
• SHOP THE CELL! Upcoming in December: I’m moving to Sprint and getting a Blackberry. $20/month savings over my iPhone.

Total Cutbacks: $1580/month…$18,960/year

It’s not just about cutting back, it’s about managing the money we do have better. How is that money better invested?

• THE CHURCH! Kingdom resources. We are more free to give more and more often and in more places.
• COMPASSION! We are sponsoring three kids. Soon to be four.
• LIFE INSURANCE! I don’t care who you are or how old you are – GET LIFE INSURANCE. Chris and I have ridiculous amounts of coverage for about $30/month. If one of us happened to get hit by a bus, the other one would be taken care of for life.
• SAVINGS! We don’t have a ton, and call me stupid but I don’t think we need a ton. Having an emergency fund is helpful, but we don’t keep this fund super huge. There are needs right in front of us…so we try to not worry about the “what if.” God’s proven faithful. We hope to do the same.

So…a few of you have asked, and here is your long answer. Yes, we budget. Yes we have spreadsheets. Yes, we talk about our money all the time. We talk about purchases no matter how big or small. Communication is key for us. Being on the same page is key for us.

And I have to say the freedom it brings is…amazing!!!!

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Justin wrote me an email with this great Mother’s Day idea!

Here?s a cool idea I?d like to share. Today I?ve decided my kids and I are going to sponsor a Compassion Child as a mother?s day gift for my wife. I?m going to have my kids help me pick a child from the website, then we?re going to draw pictures of him or her and give those as my wife?s card (along with a massage gift certificate!)

I think I’ll write her a note in my card that goes something like: “You have given US so much love and compassion, we’re passing it on to someone else. Thanks for being a mom that brings out the best in us.”

Just a little throw down/inspiration for some of the other guys out there!

What a super cool idea. If it sounds like something you’d like to do, just click here to begin finding that special kid you can sponsor for Mother’s Day!

You won’t just be giving a huge gift to your mom, or your wife, you’ll be giving an amazing gift to another mom all the way around the world.

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Seriously.

I have no idea how in the world I am ever going to blog again after a day like today.

I haven’t laughed harder – or cried harder – in my life.

And it all has to do with this little boy.

His name is Tushar. He’s five. He is one of the children Chris and I sponsor through Compassion.

Our day started out pretty simply.

We met.

Then…well…this madness ensues.

(Watch it. It will seriously be the best minute of your day. I dare you to disagree with me).

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And, well, after five hours of that…there’s nothing left to say but this.

Only $32 a month to give this little boy and his family hope, food, care, education, prayers, letters, photos, laughter, rest, love?

After a day like today, I’d pay a million.

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Your $32 a month does amazing things for a child.

Education. Medical care. Spiritual care. Food.

And it doesn’t just influence the child you sponsor, it influences the whole family.

Pretty much anyone of us can send $32/month and not think twice about it.

And as that $32 represents amazing opportunities for a child, as Spence says below, it’s the letters that make dreams happen.

We visited the Compassion East India offices the day before yesterday. They receive over 1000 letters a week from sponsors.

Here are a few videos that show you what happens with those letters after you send them off in the mail.

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The first one is a quick video from Compassions’ East India offices.

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The second one is of a home visit where we ask if the little girl is sponsored. She doesn’t just say yes…watch what happens.

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I know many of you already sponsor children – I’d love to hear about them! Please share their stories in the comments…

Also…if you haven’t sponsored a child yet, you can meet the ones who need sponsors here.

And I urge you, if you sponsor a child…write them a letter. Send them some photos or stickers. And if you don’t have one of the letter forms handy, did you know you can write to them online or even download the official stationary? You can also send them a little extra gift!

Who knows? They totally might buy a sheep with it.

These letters make dreams come true. Your words have the power to do amazing things!

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Her name is Anne.

She has fallen victim to some bad curry.

Or maybe it was the pizza.

Either way.

She wears no makeup today.

She doesn’t fix her hair.

Her eyes are red because she’s been crying.

And her bed has been one of her two closest friends.

(I’ll let you guess what her other friend has been).

Two of us bloggers had to stay behind due to gastrointestinal issues. It just seemed like the smartest thing to do. Our project was out two hours on bumpy roads, and the heat index is to reach 115 degrees today.

Probably not so good for those who are naturally dehydrating themselves.

On to Anne.

In early 2008, she had it all. An amazing job working alongside two of the most respected and innovative pastors in the American church. She had a good salary, a cushy downtown apartment with red walls and hardwood floors. She had just purchased her adulthood dream car.

And sure, she was generous — at least in her own American way. She tithed to her church, gave above and beyond for new projects, and sponsored a Compassion child in Ethiopia. (The one who bought a sheep with the EXTRA money she and The Hubs sent).

Then in February, she touched poverty on a trip to Africa. She smelled it. For a week, no matter where she turned, it was there.

They had eyes of hope, but skin and bones for flesh.

They had dreams, but no clean water.

They were covered in potential, but they had no clean clothes.

And on this trip, something inside her broke. Sixteen months later, it’s never been fixed.

Anne and The Hubs quit their jobs. They moved to Nashville where they had friends with like-minded pursuits and opportunities. Now, using the internet, and video, and Twitter, and Facebook, she wants to take you as close to these under-resourced areas as possible.

You may never touch the rough hand of a young, hungry child.

You may never smell what raw sewer and smoke and smog smell like on a hellishly hot and humid day.

But it is my prayer for you that something will break.

Reading our stories, and learning about the children and the families and the culture we are experiencing isn’t enough.

Yes, I am more than amazed at the response as some of you have connected to one story or another. I am amazed that close to 200 children have been sponsored because of this trip, and over 1400 have been sponsored as a result of all blogging trips.

But as Shaun said yesterday, it’s not about the money.

It’s about the relationship you and a child a world away will have. It’s about them hearing they are loved. It’s about praying for them. And knowing they are praying and thinking about you.

See that? Those are sponsor letters. This Compassion office in East India processes over 1000 letters to children a week.

For The Hubs and I, over the last year and a half, it’s been about living with less. It has taken time, but we have cut our expenses literally in half. In the summer, we will be moving into an 800 sq ft, 1 bedroom cottage thanks to our friends who have so graciously rented it to us for a more than reasonable price. Our credit cards are paid off. We’ve canceled things like cable and wireless cards and I’m even weaning myself off my beloved Lunesta to save another $50/month.

I tell you this not in pride, but because as we have developed these relationships with the sponsored children we have, they continue to affect us. They continue to bring us to new levels of “comfort.” For us, “comfort” doesn’t mean what it used to mean.

We can’t be comfortable the way we used to be.

I’m not going to try and passive-aggressively manipulate you. This trip is about getting children sponsored, yes. Not only for the financial freedom $32 brings them a month, but for the financial freedom it will bring you as you store up in treasures elsewhere. I’m not talking about heaven. I’m talking about Africa, India, Burkina Faso.

Your own home.

This girl named Anne is not perfect. She still spends far too much money on clothes and hair product. (Just ask my roommate on this trip). This girl still makes decisions that are meaningless and selfish.

But she also believes with all of her heart that one child sponsorship will not only change the life of someone across the world, it will change yours in ways you can never imagine.

If you feel stuck…trust me on this. Just trust me. Because I’ve been there.? There is freedom in truth. There is freedom in carrying the burdens of others.

You will be amazed.

I promise.

Here’s the link to look at the children that need your help.

This is my ask.

The rest is up to you.

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Her name is Lakshmi.

When I met our sponsor child Linet last year in Uganda, I gave her a set of simple beaded bracelets. I had the same pair on. I told her every time I wore them, I would think of her.

I grabbed one of the bracelets from my jewelry box (okay, it’s a piece of tupperware…I am SO fancy) and slipped it on my wrist at the last moment before heading to the airport last week.

Part of me wanted to keep it on to remember Linet, remember the Uganda trip, and remember how much I’ve been changed since that trip.

Yet a little voice spoke to me when I slipped it on and said, “You’ll know when to give this away.”

And on my arm it has stayed since we’ve arrived.

Officially, I’m the “videographer” on this trip…so, most of my time is spent behind a camera catching moments and stories as the bloggers interact with the children. I realized yesterday I hadn’t really had a chance to just play with them like I did last year.

This afternoon, we were making some home visits (where our group visits the home of a Compassion child to meet their family and experience their life as best as we can in half an hour). As I walked behind the group, trying to get footage of the neighborhood, one of the girls we were visiting, Lakshmi, came up to me and grabbed my hand.

I leaned over to say hi, and she whispered back with a big, bright smile,

“You’re beautiful.”

One of the points of these trips is for us to simply love on the kids. So we can tell them how worthy they are and how beautiful they are.

Not the other way around.

My heart crumbled.

We entered her home, learned all about her, her family, her life. She wants to be a doctor. And I have no doubt some day she will. She’s sharp, and witty, and her family was close and emotionally supportive.

As I went to hug Lakshmi, I slipped the beaded bracelet off my wrist and on to hers. Her eyes lit up.

“This is for me?”

“Yes…I have one like it at home, and when I wear it, I’ll think of you.”

“Are you sure it’s for me?”

“Absolutely.”

Before we left her home, I put down the camcorder so we could play and talk just a little more.

I did not want to leave this girl.

My friend Spence took some pictures of us…and needless to say, Lakshmi had a little surprise for me too.

We posed, all smiles, and at the last minute, she leaned in to give me a big kiss on the cheek.

In the Indian culture, from what I understand, this is a sentiment of trust and deep friendship. Most people in this culture are quite physically reserved when it comes to showing affection.

I was shocked…and literally, about to lose what little composure I had left.

We took one more photo, and went outside to take some group shots.

As we left the house, both of her parents bowed on their knees to us, kissing their fingers and then placing them on each of our feet. In the Hindu culture, this is a sign of a mutual blessing…we have honored them by our visit, and they hope they have honored us by their hospitality.

Spence was over by a rickshaw (what Lakshmi’s father drove for his employment) and I walked over to him with tears in my eyes.

(Side note: I don’t cry. Marley and Me? Nothing.)

“Spence, I can’t leave here. I just can’t.”

He gave me a hug and I tried to compose myself for the photos.

Lakshmi grabbed on to me again, and pulled me down by her in the group photos. She took hold of Angie with the other hand and after a few minutes of picture taking, it was time for us to go.

Hand in hand, we walked a quarter of the mile from her house back to the Compassion project.

It was time to say goodbye.

She tapped on my shoulder and had me lean down close to her again. She gave me a big kiss on the cheek, and repeated her first words to me.

“You’re beautiful.”

I kissed her cheek back and told her the same. I told her I knew she would be a doctor one day. I played with her bracelet on her wrist and reminded her I’d be thinking of her when I returned home.

And as I type this from my hotel desk, overlooking the traffic of Kolkata, my eyes are again filled with tears.

There are millions of children in this world that need hope. That need help.

We can’t change a million lives. But we can change one.

One beautiful child. With a beautiful smile. With a beautiful soul.

And now, one with a beaded bracelet.

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His name is Pramanik.

Several of us stood in his house, barely fitting into the 100 square feet. The walls were woven together with bamboo sticks and leaves. During the Monsoon season, they covered it in tarps. Living as close as they do to the water, it’s a miracle their home was even standing as firm as it was on the cement floor. Four people – Pramanik, his brother, and his parents – called this modest shack home.

His young parents answered an influx of questions from us while his little brother coyly stared at the video camera I was holding. ?We learned Pramanik was relatively new to being sponsored, and that his father was having difficulty finding work because he’s been sick with jaundice.

I asked our translator to ask him what he wanted to be when he grew up. Maybe it’s the idealist in me, but I think that’s my favorite question to ask children. Their potential is beyond anything we can imagine.

What came out of his mouth surprised me.

Nothing.

He didn’t say a word.

You can watch the whole conversation in the video below. I couldn’t believe it.

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He doesn’t have a dream.

In situations like Pramanik’s, having a dream for the future isn’t a part of their reality. They just continue to live in the cycles of poverty their own parents, and grandparents, and great grandparents have known. Future plans and hopes don’t typically exist.

Because of someone’s $32 a month, Pramanik is going to his Compassion project everyday. They aren’t only just teaching him about God, and love, and feeding him, and caring for him…they’re painting a picture of his potential. He’s only seven years old now. He has at least ten more years of Compassion, and his sponsor (through his letters and support) to help him realize he can have a dream. Compassion has a plan for children to work through from the ages of 12 to 17, to evaluate their strengths and their passions and to put them on the right track to blowing those dreams out of the water.

Pramanik has a sponsor. He has hope. But there are 70 other children in the project (all of Compassion’s projects are conducted through a local church) who need sponsors.

They need to know they’re loved.

And they need to know they can dream.

Heck. They just need to know what a dream….is.

And can be.

Can you help them?

Below is a video from the same project…it’s a great overview if you’re new to what Compassion International does. And if you have any questions about Compassion, sponsorship, anything…please let me know and I’ll answer them tomorrow night India time — you’ll read them on Tuesday afternoon.

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East India Flickr Account: HERE

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