My Nonprofit Reviews

When I first heard Ele talk about the work her sister was doing in Nigeria, I felt an immediate tug on my heartstrings and something close to shock. It seemed so close because I was looking at a direct connection. This wasn’t an anonymous phone call not letting me hang up. It wasn’t an invitation to a semi-formal event wanting me to bid on donated items. It was my friend who sat behind me at church, and she was talking about her sister and brother-in-law. They had been doing this incredible work for ‘how many years’? How had I not heard of this? In our information age, we think we have our stethoscope on everything happening in our world. Just turn to CNN each day, and you’ve got it, right? Thirty years, a home for hundreds of babies, two schools, a hospital and all with inconsistent utility service and no promise of long term finicial support. How can that be? While Linda and Ambrose are doing all the things Jesus taught us to do, I’m just over here trying for the ‘American Dream’ and struggling to watch after a few children and grandchildren of my own. My first thought was that I wanted to be there. Knowing that couldn’t be realized soon, I next wanted to know how I could help. Sending money, that is what I could do. And then the realization that the money didn’t have to go through Washington D.C. or a large corporation that I would read about next year when money had been siphoned for some insider’s personal use. I already knew of the character of this family and trusted them implicitly. Tears filled my eyes the day Ele showed the slides of the children and their beautiful smiles. I couldn’t shake the feelings that swelled in me as she told of their accomplishments even as they had lost their mother at birth and their families had deserted them. It was later that I realized there was a second reason why I was so moved. It was Nigeria. Although, in today’s world, the perception and information we have of this country includes stories of negative impact, in my world, the country was part of my beginning. Many times I have read the letters my father wrote to my mother from Nigeria when I was born. He and I didn’t meet until I was two (2) years old. World War II separated him from our family as he resided in Nigeria. He commanded an Air Force Base there and flew aircraft to India and back as the war continued. This deep connection says to me how close we are to a nation and its troubles across a large ocean. It shows me that God is the Father of us all and our ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ don’t have to have skin color that matches ours.

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