So there’s an 8 year-old little boy named Alexander who lives in Kenya.

He’s a Compassion child, and he needs heart surgery. The surgery costs $8,303. Since his family lives on $13.70 a month, they can’t afford it. You can read all the details on the Compassion blog.

The people at Compassion didn’t ask me to post about this. I actually ran across a link to Alexander’s story yesterday when I was catching up on Twitter, and he has been all over my heart ever since. Maybe it’s because he has the same name as my little guy. Maybe it’s because I feel particularly burdened for the people of Africa. Maybe it’s because I know that WE CAN HELP HIM.

Here’s the thing: if each person who reads this post will donate one dollar – ONE DOLLAR – we can make a pretty good dent in the cost of Alexander’s surgery.

I know some of you are already Compassion sponsors. I know some of you contribute to World Vision and Mocha Club and all sorts of wonderful organizations that do incredible work in third-world countries. There’s no question that y’all are a generous bunch.

So today, if you’re willing to go one dollar beyond what you normally give to charitable causes each month, and if you feel led to participate (NO PRESSURE – I promise), would you please help Alexander in Kenya get the surgery he needs by making a one-time donation of one dollar to a special surgery fund that Compassion has set up for him?

I figure it never hurts to ask.

And thanks in advance, y’all.

Edited to add: Thanks to the efforts of LOTS of different bloggers and Facebookers and Twitterers and whathaveyou, Compassion met the goal for Alexander’s surgery in just three days (they started raising money on Monday). You can read the details here. Yay, internets – thank y’all so much!

A year ago today I was getting my first up-close-and-personal look at poverty in a third world country. I was in Uganda with a group of bloggers who turned out to be some of the greatest people I’ve ever met, and I came home from our trip rattled, sad, grateful, unsettled, burdened and angry. I feel like in so many ways God is still using the Uganda trip to change me and show me how my perception of “comfortable” is totally off-base – I don’t think I’ll ever get over what I saw and heard and felt over the course of those eight days.

So, in short: Uganda MESSED ME UP, and I am so thankful.

Many of you sponsored children through Compassion during that Uganda trip, and I can tell you without hesitation that you are changing a child’s life through your sponsorship. Remember, you can send your child letters via email, and this post of Melanie’s is a great reminder of how important our letters are to our Compassion kids.

In about nine weeks another group of bloggers will be heading to Calcutta, India (Angie, Anne, Melissa, Pete and Robin are on board so far), and I encourage you to pray for them as they prepare for their trip.

Here’s a post I wrote last year after we spent the day in a little village about ten miles outside of Kampala. And if you’re interested in releasing a child from poverty, you can find more info on Compassion’s website.

Internets, today I played Throw The Ball And Run AGAIN.

ME! PLAYING SPORTS! TWO DAYS IN A ROW.

I’m telling y’all: somebody needs to read Ephesians 3:20 out loud for the class. Because if I am throwing and catching and running and whathaveyou IN THE MIDDLE OF UGANDAN FIELDS, we need somebody to TESTIFY to the Lord’s faithfulness up in this interweb right now. God can do anything, oh yes He can.

Hallelujah.

We spent most of today in a village about ten miles outside of Kampala. To say that the ride was bumpy would be a huge understatement; in fact, at one point I looked over at Shannon and Anne and said, “Funny. I didn’t know that my calves could jiggle.”

But let me assure you: they most certainly can.

We visited a Compassion project that’s run through a local church (all Compassion projects are run through the local church), and the children there absolutely made my day. In fact, we had no sooner parked the bus than this little fellow ran over to us and reached up toward the window for my hand.

Just try to look at his sweet face and NOT smile. You can’t do it.

There’s a remarkable difference between the children we’ve seen who are sponsored through Compassion and those who don’t have a sponsor yet. The Compassion kids have light in their eyes; they have hope. They have adults who love them and disciple them; they have a support network for their families; they have food and medical care and clothing – all provided through their sponsorship.

These kids live in unimaginable conditions, but I’m telling you, when you see their faces? It’s like God turns up the sunshine to full blast.

We were able to play with the kids for most of the afternoon. Shannon and I actually sang “Jesus Loves Me” three or four times with a group of about ten kids, and they knew every single word. Then I showed them how I like to say “YAYYYYY” once I finish singing a song and how I sometimes take the “YAYYYYY” to new heights by clapping for myself.

Needless to say, they thought I was absolutely insane. But for whatever reason, I think this particular group of Ugandan children appreciated my crazy. So obviously I will be moving here in the near future, just as soon as I can get home and round up my people to come back with me.

And by the way, we yayyyyed and clapped like nobody’s business.

Because the children, they need to know these things.

A few hours after all the yayyyying, when we were just about to leave the project, a little boy – he was about 11, I’m guessing – ran up to me and started saying a name over and over.

At first I thought he was introducing himself to me, so I smiled and told him my name.

He shook his head – and then continued repeating the name.

I finally realized what he was saying, so I looked at him and asked, “Troy? Are you saying ‘Troy’?”

He nodded like crazy – with a smile so wide that I wondered if his face could even contain it – and as he looked me straight in the eyes, he said, “Yes. TROY. USA. Is my sponsor.”

And in that moment, it hit me.

Troy – whoever he is, wherever he is – is that boy’s link to the world. Through his sponsorship, Troy bridges a gulf of human indifference that separates those of us with the means to help from the kids who so desperately need it.

And while Troy has no idea, make no mistake: there was a child in a remote village of Uganda today who was shouting his name in gratitude.

I just think that’s extraordinary.

Every child needs a Troy. Every child deserves that.

Every single one.

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from a sweet person who reads my blawg pretty frequently. “You’ve seemed different,” she wrote, “since you got home from Africa. And I just want you to know that I’m praying for you.”

Oh, interpeoples. That email touched my heart right down to my liver.

Because I am different. There’s no doubt about that. But the problem is that I haven’t had any idea what to do with the different, so I’ve responded around by just sitting around and thinking about it.

A lot.

And just FYI: periods of great introspection do not exactly lend themselves to cranking out blog posts that pass for some semblance of witty, kicky fun.

Which has left me in a bit of a bloggy pickle.

And so, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve felt a little disconnected from the blog for the last couple of months. And I’ve given myself a hard time about the fact that I’m not exactly sure how to live and write in that tension, in that place where my heart aches for the despair and the poverty in third world countries while I sit in my central air conditioning and work on my laptop and drink diet Coke while I wait for my husband to walk in the door with a big bucket of fried chicken.

I’ve felt a little bit frustrated, to say the least.

Well.

A couple of days ago Alex and I were running some errands, and he asked me if we could go to Johnny Rocket’s for supper. I explained that we were cooking hamburgers on the grill that night, an announcement that was met with no small degree of displeasure. “BUT MAMA,” he said, “I LOOOOOVE Johnny Rocket’s. I think we should eat THERE.”

And even though I said I would NEVER do such a thing, I totally pulled the Africa card on my five year-old. I’ll spare you a repeat of my speech, but you can probably imagine the bullet points: children starving, children without meat, children without restaurants, children without choices where food is concerned, children who are grateful for God’s provision even if said provision doesn’t look or taste like what they’d hoped for.

Then I turned up the music so that I could silently convince myself to STOP TALKING, JUST STOP IT WITH THE TALKING, THE CHILD IN THE BACKSEAT IS ONLY FIVE AND PROBABLY COULD HAVE DONE WITHOUT THE LECTURE.

Alex was quiet for a few minutes, and then he said, “Mama? Mama? I think we should say a prayer for those children in Africa. I think we should say a prayer for the children who don’t have enough food. Can we do that, Mama?”

And once I picked up my heart and put it back in my chest, we did just that. We prayed for those children.

There were a lot of things about that moment in the car that struck me. If you’ve ever loved a child, you could probably rattle off a list that mirrors mine. But the thing that absolutely blew me away is that Alex DID SOMETHING with the information I’d shared with him. He listened, he thought, he prayed. There was no angst, no second-guessing, no strategizing.

He didn’t wait until he’d had some grand vision or had configured some master plan. He just acted on what he’d heard. And he taught his mama a thing or nine in the process.

So today, I follow his lead.

Right now, on Compassion’s website, there are eight orphans in third-world countries who need sponsors. For $32 a month – which is about what it would cost a family of four to go out to dinner – you can take care of that child. Your $32 will provide medical care, vaccinations, school fees, nutritional needs and – THIS IS HUGE – give that child countless opportunities to hear the Gospel. Through your sponsorship of one of these eight children, you can rescue a child who doesn’t have a mother or father from poverty.

Tuyishime, Caroline (just sponsored! yay!), Adera, Natnael (just sponsored! yay!), Nairesiai (just sponsored! yay!), Selina (just sponsored! yay!), Nevine (just sponsored! yay!), and Asnaku (just sponsored! yay!) are waiting.

And I don’t know about you, but I think it would be pretty cool if we stepped up and changed their lives today.

Just click on their names if you’d like to help.

Thanks in advance for what you’re going to do.

And thanks, Alex, for the lesson.