But there is that one experience from 5^th and 6^th grades at Hampton Elementary School in Lutherville, Maryland, that definitely made me hate the idea of running. Field Day—the words still strike fear in my heart. Each year several local elementary schools would come together to compete in small track and field events as well as kick ball and a few other sports.

My body was never quite the sports spectacular type. I definitely was more the arts and music model. Getting a “C” in PE was a good grade for me.  In our house you needed to be on your death bed to get a day home from school so faking illness wasn’t an option.  Signing up for the sport of your choice was also not an option. The teachers wanted to look good so they were going to choose the best in each sport. So what do you do with a kid who is the not best in any sport? Cross Country Running.

Yep, I was that Cross Country Runner who placed last in both 5^th and 6^th grade. I know the course was not that long but to me it was a marathon. At the end I was so out of breath and beat red in the face that I wanted to die of embarasement. I came in way, way behind everyone else—I’m not even sure anyone was left at the finish line to see me cross it. This experience made me hide under the table if any one even mentioned the word running.

Fast forward 50+ years. I am invited to travel with my daughter, Kathy, and a few of her high school friends to Myrtle Beach, SC, where they will participate in a DIVA ½ marathon and 5K race.  It sounds like fun and a chance to spend a little mother-daughter time. I can hang around and encourage them as they run.  But after checking it out, I realize this race is all about women. It actually sounds like there are more activities than the race but you must participate in at least one race. Okay,  a 5K is just a little over 3 miles. I’ve been walking about 3 miles every other week. I rationalize that can do 5K and decide to sign up. Unfortunately the 5K is sold out. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I sign up for the ½ marathon—truly I did not realize that we were talking 13.1 miles. I had 7 weeks till the race. I called my daughter.

When she came to after fainting, she asked how was I going to train. Good question—no answer from me. Collecting herself, she suggested I do a little google research on training for a ½ marathon. Now was as good a time as any to begin so I announced to my husband that we would walk 6 miles that night. He made it through 3. And my training schedule began. Walk 3 miles, then 5 miles, then 9 miles. I averaged 18-25 miles per week- walking.

During my training I realized how little I walk. I drive to the store, the doctor, the bank, the movies. But the women in villages in Ghana walk for everything, especially for the health of their children. What is it like to walk 10 miles or more with a baby on your back? I decided to try it. Not wanting to risk the life of a child, I felt a cabbage patch doll might be a better fit for me—after all I am a non-walker/runner. I might stumble and fall and hurt a real baby.

I trained for a week with my new “baby”, Teresa. She traveled to Ft. Lauderdale with me, hopped a plane for Myrtle Beach and prepared for her debut on Sunday, April 28. She was pretty calm. As for me, I was that little 5^th grade girl preparing to fail. I was so afraid that I did not tell many people that I would running a race. Those I did tell thought I had lost my mind.  As the day loomed closer, I made the decision that I could not fail at this. The women of Africa were depending on me and I could not let fear hold me back from finishing for them.  So I wrote to the press to tell them that I was running.  Once I announced to the world what I was doing, I could not back out.

3,608 people signed up for the ½ marathon and another 2,000 for the 5K race so just picking up my number was frightening. Being last in a field of 20 is not quite the same as being last in a field of 3,600. I have to say that Kathy and her friends were very encouraging to me all weekend but when I took my place near the back of the field of runners, tears were flowing. Quickly other women began to talk with me and encourage me. Jolo, Michele and Jill added me to their group. The race was on. Baby Teresa was firmly positioned on my back. The day was overcast and not too hot. I wanted to stop but the baby kept me going.  In the real world of Africa, if I stopped she might die.  Adreneline kicked in about mile 6 and kicked back out about mile 11. Then I met Sally, who is close to my age and going to be ordained a deacon in January.  She and I walked/ran together. NEWS 13 called at mile 12 to tell me they were at the finish line waiting to hear my story. I had a renewed purpose and I was unstoppable. Once I rounded the curve and saw the finish line my legs got into gear and I found the strength to actually do a full run to the finish. I got my tiara, my pink boa and my medal. Mostly I got back my dignity and I learned what it takes  for my African moms to carry a child a long distance to receive medical care.

Will I do it again? I am searching the internet for race opportunities as you read this.

Debi Frock/Founder and Executive Director

PS. I finished 3,494 in a field of 3,653, one minute and 6 seconds behind my target goal.—It was the bathroom break that cause me the extra time. Check out the news video at http://www.wbtw.com/video?clipId=8820512&autostart=true  Find the link on our Facebook Page

Over break, I spent a weekend at the Bishop Claggett Center staffing a youth retreat when Becki Neumann ran the idea past me to go to Ghana with some friends over the summer. My first thought was how cool that would be, my second was how much money I didn’t have. Now, my third thought was I could get killed. Frankly, I didn’t know anything about Ghana, couldn’t quickly spot it on a map or couldn’t tell you anything about it at all.

Like any good college student, I ran to Wikipedia! Soon I learned about the imports and exports, political standings, and of course, location.

I ran the idea past some family members who had some major doubts and concerns. So, I returned to school toying with the idea in my head.

I spoke to my closest friends at school who encouraged me to pray on my worries; if God wanted me there, He’d get me there. To be able to “let go and let God” is a much easier concept to say than put into motion but I tried. I remember praying that I needed God to make it super obvious, like smack me in the face clear…and He was. I remember getting an email newsletter from my favorite band that had nothing to do with anything.  At the end of the email, it talked about doing what you are called to do and it said something like, “If you need your green light, here it is…” Needless to say, I thought that was interesting but I wasn’t fully convinced. Then in the bathroom of my dorm a few days later and heard something very similar on the radio: just have faith and go for it.  Soon after, I reluctantly committed to the trip.

My next move was to raise the money. I hate asking people for anything, so this wasn’t going to be easy. I knew I had to have faith and know that God was going to do great things on this trip. To constantly remind myself of this, I printed out the Ghana flag and taped it to my ceiling above my bed. Go to bed thinking about Ghana and wake up thinking about it. I sent out a ton of letters and before I knew it, people in my life with investing in my trip. I was so blessed in raising money, that I went over the required $$ amount. I was shocked and humbled. This gave me such a great amount of encouragement and with some minor fears, I was ready for my trip.

 Summer came and after the six weeks or so of staffing at Claggett, I was all ready for my trip. The trips started out rough, cancelled flights that ended up in adding another stop along the journey, lost luggage, and too many hours crammed into seats that only seemed to get smaller by the passing hour. But finally we got there!

My first days of Ghana were filled with a little sightseeing but what meant the most was going out to Akramaman village. I drove up to the school and my heart was filled with so many emotions. I was so excited to meet everyone and to see what the kids were learning. I wanted to learn about everything, see everything and it was pretty overwhelming.

We soon started on our real mission for the trip, the reading camp. I didn’t feel very prepared for this. I have never taught anyone how to real, let alone, in a different country. I didn’t feel capable but I found out that feeling helpless wasn’t really an option. The lead teachers got wind that I was an artist and that I would head up the art class. I freaked out in my head. I had no idea what to teach these kids and not just a few kids, but over 150! Soon the kids arrived and I was very excited to meet them. They were so energetic and reminded me so much of my campers back home The craft ideas came without hesitation, there is a lot you can do with construction paper, glue, and stickers! But outside of the classroom I was worried that I wouldn’t have enough to talk to them about but the talking came so easily later after a few games of pick-up soccer, and yes, I lost every time.

As the days passed at the reading camp, I grew closer and closer to the kids.  I saw them struggle through books one day and read it perfectly the next. I saw the joy in their eyes and laughter that seemed to spread all over the campus. I can just remember being so tired every morning waking up but get so excited when we were about 5 minutes from the school, knowing the kids were ready for another day of learning. We exchanged songs with the kids, silly camp songs that seemed to have new life with a new audience; one of the songs taught to me I still find myself singing on occasion and laughing every time.

 Leaving Ghana was very hard. I had connected with so many people, fell in love with the land, and had a heart for the cause. One thing that made a big impression on me was realizing that teaching at the reading camp was a small section of a much greater effort from Ghanaian Mothers’ Hope to empower children. I felt like all the people I met changed me a little, gave me such a different perspective on the world and how the world sees me.  I still feel impacted by what I have learned, humbled by the simple living day to day.

 This trip made me wrestle with my own selfish thoughts: my need for warm showers, cold soda, and timeliness. I did have to let go and let God because clearly how I wanted things to go didn’t really work there. I had to give up control and let God use me as He sees fit. This concept was so evident from the moment of my decision to commit to the trip, to the moment I stepped off the plane back in the U.S.  Ghanaian Mothers’ Hope provides such a unique opportunity to use people, to stretch them, to change them. I don’t feel like I influenced many people there, they impacted my life way beyond what I could have ever imagined.

One of our first days in Ghana, Debi gave us this rubber, blue and white GMH bracelet to wear around, almost five years later, I still wear it every day. It serves as a reminder to pray, to stay committed, and to remember how God can changed you in the most unexpected ways.

Laura Bauer

Note from Debi:  Now that Laura is in the working world, she supports GMH every month with a recurring donation.  Her once selfish thoughts now delight in giving back.   Check out our website http://www.gmhope.org and like us on FaceBook   GMHope.org

Bruce and Becki+ with their sponsored child, John

by Bruce Neumann

In 2004 God called me to Ghana to be a part of Cursillo Team. This makes my 7^th trip; why do I keep coming back? Like our son, Zach, said, “Once you have African soil on your feet, you will always have a piece of Africa in your heart.”

This year I had a totally new and unplanned

Jason Wheeler, The Carpenter-Capi, and Bruce do major repairs.

experience. On a Tuesday evening Becki+ and Ronny needed MTN minutes for the internet (Think prepaid mobile phones and you’ll have the idea). The front desk of the Hansonic Hotel (where we stay) told us to go out of the parking lot and turn left. It was very dark out there as the power was out in the whole section, but Ronny and I started off anyway, our eyes fixed on the yellow MTN umbrella in the distance. (This was an outside “stall,” meaning table, where the man sold the cards out of his wallet.)

To call the thing we walked on a sidewalk would be a misnomer. They really don’t exist, except in some places where a concrete slab or blocks covers the open sewer. Otherwise, you are walking on a dirt path. The” sidewalk” began at the “trotro” (bus – think 9 passenger van) stop just up from the yellow MTN umbrella. I started walking on the sidewalk and the next thing I knew I was flat on my face and my left leg hurt like crazy! I had found the spot of one of the missing pieces of sidewalk. Ronny tried so hard not to laugh! Two gentlemen walking past kept saying, “So sorry, so sorry.” I had managed to step right into the sewer!!

Debi, Zach, Becki and Bruce Neumann- before the accident

I put sand on my “wet” foot to dry it, quickly bought the MTN cards, and hurried back to the Hansonic, thankful my leg was only “wet,” and not broken. Becki was waiting and couldn’t understand why I was in such a rush to get into the shower. All I could say was, “I have to have a shower NOW!” As I rushed upstairs leaving her in the lobby Ronny explained what had happened; I had REALLY put my foot in it!

I could have broken my leg. I could have gotten an infection (I was pretty scraped up). But I didn’t. Would I come back again? Yes, I would, in a minute. Why? Because God calls me here to use my hands to help those children. And because of the African soil on my shoes I will always carry a piece of Africa in my heart.

Running to use the newly repaired playground

By Zita Collins

Last Sunday we attended Mercia’s church, St. Andrew Anglican Church, all of us dressed in our new Ghanaian wear! Since it is the first Sunday of the month, the service was quite long—about 4 hours– as there are many extra components to this service. There were birthdays to bless, condolences for loved ones who had just passed, two newlywed couples to bless and who brought gifts to the church, and many different offerings to collect. One woman who turned 80 got a special birthday blessing.

The music started with hymns, but during the offerings,

Oh, yes, they can dance during the offering

the worship band played and sang upbeat praise songs (in the Ghanaian language, Ga, I think) and people danced up to the altar to give their offerings! There was so much joy in giving! Our group went up four times (some sort of dancing): for “visitors,” for “Mother’s Union” (which GMH is involved with), for the day of the week on which we were born or for a “Jesus Special” offering then once more for something else which escapes me right now. And there were many more! At the end of the service, the four groups who gave the most got to keep a special chalice for the month.  One of Mercia’s groups, the Guild of St. Mary the Virgin, got the honor of taking one of these. Way to give, St. Mary’s Guild!

There was the usual communion, in which Pastor Becki got to participate as a chalicist. She was asked to sit up on the altar with the other priests. The sermon was done in English and then again in another language, Ga. The readings were done in all three languages, English, Ga, and Twi.

I totally enjoyed the service with all its special parts. The joy, the dancing, the bringing of gifts to the altar by the newlyweds and all their  many well-wishers, even the prayers and the somber moments. To me, this is what church is supposed to be—a ‘family’ gathered to worship the Lord together and to heartily thank Him for all He is and for all He has done. And to enjoy each other in that time of worship, to rejoice with those who rejoice and to grieve with those who grieve. These guys really know how to “do church.” I would not have missed this for the world, and am only sad that we will not be here next Sunday to enjoy another service!

Prayers for safe travel

My trip to Africa by Josh McDaniel

My trip to Africa has proven to be quite the experience. I have learned many things, such as pure intentions can have unintended and unfortunate side effects, that language barriers can be easily overcome when one stops speaking with words and uses their body, and that jet lag can make a morning person out anybody.

The second we touched down in Accra I expected to see a dry, arid dessert, where buildings are scarce. But to my surprise (and great relief), I saw an extremely vast city. It has been humid, overcast, and rainy the entire trip!

The whole reason I’m here, the reading camp, is the main topic of this article. The expression of absolute joy on the children’s faces when we arrive will stick with me the rest of my life. The second you get off the bus, you are bombarded with wave after wave of children running over to you, holding your hands, your arms, your legs, climbing on you. They argue in rapid-fire Ga and Twei over the limited space left on me to hold on to, yelling ball, football, wanting to play soccer before classes begin.

The kids are so delightful; they can be rough and grabby with each other as well as us. They are generally polite and respectful toward us; and they love to learn! They want to be taught; school is exciting to them! Their enthusiasm toward education is unmatched compared to American children, as well as myself. They always try their hardest and do what they can; their ambition surprises me.

It’s a shame , though, that we are here only for a week; I will miss the children dearly. We taught them a new poem and red them a book every day we were here, and even the supposedly challenging kids caught on really fast. They took home 5 books at the end of the week. Every day at lunch I’d serve the kids and chase chickens away. Roosters are really fast.

 I leave here with the feeling of accomplishment knowing I’ve done something good.

Adrianna, Matt and Mark loving some children

The less serious side of a few team members

Saying good-bye to the girls.

Good-bye to the boys

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Reading Camp 2012

 Another reading camp has come to an end. The children, wearing their GMH shirts have all waved goodbye, some with tears in their eyes, and the US team has had our last dinner in Ghana. I rarely can make sense of the emotions I have as I prepare to leave Ghana, this time for the fourth time. While I am looking forward to a toilet that can take toilet paper and a shower that does not smell of sulfur, I am sad to leave behind the 60 children who have been such a part of me for the past few days. People always ask me, “Why do you keep going back?” The simple answer is that I love the children.

When we pull up to the school each day and the children see us, their faces shine and their smiles radiate joy. Such emotion for such a simple thing…am I missing something? Surely, they do not jump up and down and call out our names with such enthusiasm because they believe that we will make stellar readers out of them. I do not think they greet us with such overflowing love and joy because our lessons will utterly amaze and enthrall them. Why then do they shower us with their unconditional love so freely?

Jesus spent much of his time on earth with the sick, the meek, the unwanted, the forgotten and the outcasts. Ibrahim, Matilda, Deborah, Ayi, Emanuel, Rebecca, Kate….just a few of the children we served this week….these dear children, our children, will never be forgotten. We came to help with their reading skills and encourage them as they learn but, we came to simply love them and be with them. And we came to be loved. I saw how a group of village children can reach into the hearts of 6 American teenagers, take up residence, and change those teenage hearts forever. All 6 of those “loud, obnoxious, lazy, self-centered teens” is ready to return to their children next year. We did not come to adopt the children in the village, however they adopted us. I saw a quiet boy who listens to his IPOD a little to frequently become a vibrant young man who can run for hours while children squeal with delight because he has stopped to play with them. I witnessed a tough, athletic boy melt and realize that he does have a soft, tender side. I hear a soft-spoken girl say that she loves these children. I talked to a boy who asked me how to become a teacher so he could move to Ghana to be around the children more. A girl who says she does not have what it takes to be a teacher had a class of 22 African children following her every move and every word as she read them a story. And I saw a girl that I barely know open herself up and make a fool of herself so that the children could follow along with her silly dance.

What difference does it all make? Can we change the world? There are 60 children who are a few steps closer to becoming more than just another villager. There are 6 American teenagers who have been touched by the innocence and freely-given love of some children who only a few days ago were strangers. The children of the village, who loved us so well, will never forget our names and faces. We, who came to give but received so much, will never forget the smiles, the hugs, and the faces lit up with joy, nor what it feels like to be loved to openly. God allowed us to love and be loved through His children. Love always leaves a mark. May our hearts bear witness to the greatest Love of all.

Day One

by Jason Wheeler

The preschool in the village where we are holding the Reading Camp, has a playground in disrepair.  And by “disrepair” I mean that all of the supports for the swing set and climbing slide have split, broken completely, or otherwise have become unsafe to play on.  One of our goals for this trip was for Bruce, Ronnie and me to repair the playground.

After a lot of hard work originally performed

Bruce digging, Jason helping and Ronny adjusting the pole

by the GMH team a few years ago to install a new playground, the swing set had to be demolished last year as it was already breaking apart and creating a safety hazard.  The problem stems from faulty plastic used in the construction of the equipment.  The company who manufactured and sold the playground freely admitted that they provided bad materials, and agreed to send replacement supports for the swings and climbing slide to Maryland. GMH shipped them to Ghana.

Our main goal was to rebuild the swing set which required a number of steps.  First, we had to remove the ten concrete slabs that were used to anchor the original swing set.  We thought this would be the hardest part of our week, but with the help of three men from the village, we were able to remove the old concrete in an hour or two.

No shovels

The next step was to assemble the new supports using the old brackets and screws.  This should have been the easiest step to knock-out, but as the saying goes:  ”TIA” or “This is Africa”.  It seems the company that sent the replacement pieces did not drill the holes in the right place to fit the existing brackets.  So for the remainder of the first day and into the next morning, the supports (which are made of a very dense extruded plastic material) had to be chiseled and shaved down on the ends in order for brackets to line up with the holes.  Not an easy task when you don’t have the proper tools.  We also determined that some of the bolts necessary to attach the old brackets to the supports had grown legs and walked away over the course of the past year since the team was here last.  So we had to locate replacement bolts and nuts in the small market towns.  Fortunately, we came up with what was needed, and the supports went in the ground on Tuesday along with an extra large helping of concrete (mixed by hand by the village’s mason).

The last major step was to replace the steel pipes on either end of the swing set that stabilize the supports.  Another local gentleman was dispatched to the shops of Accra to locate the right size and length of pipe that we would need.  Unfortunately, exact replacements could not be located, but he did find material that could work.  However, it would require drilling a number of holes through sections of galvanized steel…without any power tools.

Bruce with his hand-drill—Thanks South Riding

To most, including me, the task of hand-drilling through steel would be a game changer, but Bruce doesn’t even flinch at the idea.  Amongst the many tool boxes shipped to Ghana last year from the South Riding Church Men’s Group, we located an olde-timey hand crank drill and a bunch of drill bits.  With a bit of cooking oil from the small preschool kitchen, Bruce lubed the drill and bits, and started cranking away.  When the hand-drill wasn’t working fast or effective enough, Bruce simply took the drill bit, clamped it with vice-grips, and “drilled” out holes with his bare hands.  It was an impressive sight.  He managed to hand drill holes through 4 sections of steel pipe.  Then it was just a matter of bolting on these stabilizers and setting them in more concrete.

By Thursday afternoon, the swing set was 90% complete.  On Friday, once the concrete has cured enough, we intend to hang the swings, and stand back to admire the handiwork while the children rush the playground and jockey for a turn on the swings.

Sadly, we got to witness firsthand the dangers that the original faulty material posed when one of the supports for the slide broke-off and hit a little girl on the head.  Fortunately she is alright, but the incident pointed out that we will have to try and repair the slide next with only one day left to go.  We originally hoped that the slide was going to hold up and not require a significant overhaul.  But we can’t leave it in the condition it is in for fear of someone getting severely injured.  So we will redouble our efforts to get it done in the few hours we have left tomorrow.

Don’t buy from PlayMart.

Over the course of the week working on the swing project, we encountered challenge after challenge, and yet we are getting it all done, and with some time to spare.  Like they say, “where there is a will, there is a way.”  Thankfully, it has been God’s will, and we are doing it His way.

Elizabeth Werbiskis

The things I have discovered on this journey that I am surprised about are not the things I  would expected to have had an affect on me. I know this is an area of poverty so seeing the conditions and hearing what these people will never have wasn’t a shock to me. Students I have taught in the past have survived situations that others have nightmares about.

The thing that has tugged at my heart the most was something I discovered the second day of reading camp. When we arrived at the school in the village on Monday all the children were dressed in their best. There was a distinct difference between the ones who were there for camp and the ones from the village just there to play. They all looked so cute and their smiles were their best accessory.

When we arrived at camp on Tuesday I noticed a few of the children wore the same outfit from the day before. It didn’t occur to me until later that afternoon that dressing so nice on Monday meant they were showing us their very best they had to offer. It is quite humbling to realize that they wanted to impress us and that their “Sunday best” is their only best.

Elizabeth and Adrianna having fun with their class

The sad realization for me is that when I was packing clothes for the trip, I went through and packed items that I wouldn’t be upset about if I had to leave here; old shirts that the lettering was wearing off, old pants, etc. I guess in the back of my mind I had every intention of donating the clothes I brought but they’re still the cast offs that I didn’t want any longer. It overwhelms me to think of the selfish things we think about when we don’t have to worry about our means of survival.

This trip has solidified my want to help others in a way that I never thought possible. I do not have a lot of money to give but I have found that just giving my time to be here with the children or a passing wave to someone when we’re riding through a village can mean more than all the gold in the world. The smiles on all the children’s faces when we show up for camp or the taps on the shoulder so they can show me their answer has made my heart melt and I know I will never be the same again.

Their desire to learn over powers our superficial needs.

Teacher, Kate Olcyne

By Kate Olcyne, Teacher at Children of Mary Preschool. Kate is sharing the Reading Camp experience from the perspective of the Ghanaian Teachers who are assisting at the Camp.

The first day of the Reading Programe started on the 6^th of August, 2012, Monday.

On the first day, we, the teachers and the children, wonder what is going to happen. But we were all happy when the American and Ghanaian Teachers were smiling and jumping around with all the children.

Linda Tubym, Kate Olcyne, Lucy Larsey, Charllotte Mensah, Ruth Acheampong
All from Children of Mary Preschool

We had a reading exercise, which helped to divide the children into levels of classes. During the exercise some of the children were able to read and pronounce words correctly. Some were feeling shy to even talk to the Aunties. After the exercise the children were divided into three classes in which the lessons began.

There was a song “The Moose, the Moose”, an action song, where the Aunties were “floating in the water” on the ground for the children to see and understand it. It was amazing and a surprise to the children. Some were calling to their friends whether the Aunties were “crazy”.

The Moose, The Moose

The teachers also had a wonderful experience by interpreting the lessons in Ga for the children. We have fun playing with the children and the Aunties. It is a memorable time to sit with them in the same bus to our destination.

Lucy, in the blue shirt, having fun with the kids and the Aunties

Lucy keep cadence

Brown Bear, Brown Bear What do you see?

Becki+

“In a galaxy far, far away…” I taught five and six year old children how to read. In our classroom we had smoothly polished tables and desks, nice, lightweight chairs with silent gliders on the legs, and lighting overhead to meet the minimum standard for lumens per square foot. The walls held many brightly colored, laminated posters of the alphabet, letter sounds, color words, and common sight words. Our classroom library had a minimum of 200 different titles, all leveled to insure early readers success. And most children had their own books at home.

Today we launched our annual reading camp, “Read and Grow,” in the village of Akramaman. The walls of the schoolrooms were freshly painted a bright yellow. There were no colorful posters hanging or waiting to be hung. There was an inch of dust on the floors, rubble that had blown in, and in one room, two mice that had to be chased out. The chairs are rough wood, and the tables, though brightly painted, are equally rough. There is no library at all in the rooms, just a school library furnished with our donations, most of them now sad and dusty and worn. And there are no books waiting at home for the children to read.

Adrianna, Josh and Elizabeth read to the children

The entire team got up before sunrise and skipped a hot breakfast so we could arrive early to school, giving us time to prepare a welcoming environment. Why would 6 teens and 8 adults do that? It is only for the children.

You see, when we arrive their smiles and eyes shine from shy little faces. They come running. When the bus comes to get them, they are waiting. When it is time for assembly, they assemble. These children want our love, our attention, our teaching. They want a chance to learn, a chance at life. They will steal your heart away.

So today, on a cloudy day in the 80’s, in a little African village, Americans ages 13 to 60+ joined with Ghanaian teachers and had assembly (prayer, songs, national anthem, and pledge), and after “assessment,” we read, and worked, and created friendship crowns, and read some more. And so it will go all week long. Smile upon smile, success upon success, as we work together to create a thirst and excitement for learning, as we “read and grow.”

Jesus loves these children; God is in this work. How do I know? I know because he filled this team with every gift needed to do this work, and because he has filled our hearts to overflowing with love for these beautiful children. I know because he took a rusty teacher brain and drew out techniques and expertise from fifteen years ago so this camp could make a difference. I know because the scriptures teach that each person is created in God’s image. I know because I see Jesus in the team and in the children.

Carolyn Steiner teaches “Make new Friends”

Jesus loves these children, and we do, too. Please pray for us, that we might teach, and touch hearts, and change lives, one child at a time. And please listen carefully, for the same Jesus who called us to come might just be calling you.

Faithfully,

Becki+

The Rev. Becki Neumann is the pastor at South Riding Anglican Church. She is a former teacher, a member of our Board of Directors and the Leader and designer of the 2012 Reading Camp.  More photos:

Cierra serving lunch

Mark in the classroom

Zach teaching

Zita places a crown

In the meantime, Jason, Bruce and Ron are busy putting the swing set back together again. Much harder than it sounds.

Jason, Bruce and Ron with a Ghanaian carpenter and a mason try to re-assemble the swing set.