Trip to Ethiopia: Lessons in Perspective, Beauty and Gratitute

While we were in Ethiopia last summer, I was struck by a common sight as we drove through rural areas.  Children as young as 3 and 4 years old were tending to livestock on a hillside, were cooking around a fire, or were washing and hanging out clothes.  Most of these kids were alone or in the company of other children.  They moved resolutely and focused on their tasks.  They had more the air of adult responsibility than the carefree attitude I have come to associate with childhood.

In Leyla’s home town of Bahir Dar, we took an eventful ride across Lake Tana  and saw orphan children being cared for by the monks and the village.  We got a gut wrenching sense of what life is like for those without a family.  Both of these sets of children are “fortunate” within the context of where they live.  They have adults who care for them and a community structure although from our view their path offers much less than what we would want for our children.

That evening, we returned to our hotel exhausted by both the activities and emotions of the day.  Being in my daughter’s hometown and processing so much beauty beside so much deprivation made my head spin and my heart vacillate between soaring and sinking. 

The hotel was not what we hoped for but there was little we could do to change it.  So we made due with two small non adjoining rooms.  Michael stayed in one with our two sons and I stayed in the other with Leyla.  I gratefully lay down on the bed and was insistently asleep.  

I was abruptly awoken from my deep slumber in the pitch black of night.  I could feel hands shaking my shoulders.  Michael's voice had the edge of panic to it, “It’s Dimitri.  He’s sick.  . . really sick.”  I instantly sat up although cobwebs still clung to my brain.  I followed Michael whose stricken look cut me to the core. When we entered the room he shared with the boys, the stench was overpowering.  My dear first son was in the shower shaking violently. 

Dimitri was uncontrollably sick in a way I had never seen.  He looked so frightened and vulnerable, nothing like the confident, funny teen of the daylight hours.  I very badly wanted to scoop him up like I did when he was a baby and find a way to make it all better. I swallowed the bitter bile of helplessness that threatened and focused on what we needed to do - get him ready to go immediately to a local hospital.  I stayed behind with Damian and Leyla. 

Michael went downstairs and one of the hotel staff got them a cab.  When he returned, he outlined what had happened at the hospital.  Dimitri was examined, tested for malaria, given an antibiotic shot and some medicine to take with him.  The total bill for the cabs, emergency room, doctor’s exam, shot and medicine was less than $38 --another reminder of how far we were from our normal.

Michael brought Dimitri back to my room since the other room was uninhabitable.  The three kids and I piled into the small 2 beds to see if we could get some rest.  The next morning we were going to visit Leyla’s orphanage so it was a big day.  Dimitri kept saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  My heart went out to him.  As I stroked his sweaty forehead, I told him to focus on getting better. 

We had no space in our small room for Michael’s 6’2” frame.  He went downstairs to look for a place to lie down.  He told me in the morning the hotel staff found blankets for him and allowed him to have the biggest couch in the lobby.  They apparently regularly slept there.  We were touched by how wonderful everyone was at the hotel and at the hospital.  They went above and beyond to help.  For us, they represented Ethiopia.  And Ethiopia treated our family as their own: making our emergency their emergency and caring for our child as theirs. 

I found myself thinking back again to those kids in the countryside.  What if they had gotten ill as Dimitri had?  Would they have had access to hospital care and antibiotics?  I don’t know but it seems highly unlikely.  It was a heart breaking realization.  Parenting is challenging under the best of circumstances.  It is hard to imagine what it is like where the basics I take for granted are not available.

Dimitri's sickness could have been fatal without appropriate attention.  As it was, he lost over 10 pounds in 3 days.  He looked skeletal (since he was normally quite slim) and was extremely weak for quite some time.  Leyla constantly wanted to take care of him.

This trip gave me a perspective on a lot of things including how much we take for granted.  I also gained a new appreciate for the challenges Leyla’s first mom, and many moms in Ethiopia, face.   I don’t  know how to make sense of the injustice in the disparity.  (And although guilt is a wasteful emotion, I find it's undertow traps me and pulls me down at unexpected moments.) 

All I know is that I can do my part to right the injustice by giving back. I can make sure I appreciate what I have and appreciate the beauty in humanity including those wonderful souls who eased our fears and helped us care for our son that scary night.

Happy Fourth Birthday to My Amazing Daughter Who Gave Me A Gift I Can’t Explain . .

I came across our acceptance letter for our referral from three years back. Leyla is now four years old and a world away from the infant in the picture which was our first introduction to our daughter. We could never anticipate how much she would change the course of our lives just by joining our family.

One thing I never unexpected was how she would impact me in a profound and personal way. In the fall of 2004, I was stunned to be diagnosed with endometrial cancer at 37 years of age. Once I pulled myself out of the vortex of “worst case,” I went to my comfort zone and immediately moved into action. I managed my care like I would a big project. I got a second opinion since this was a rare diagnosis for a woman of my age and health. I then sought out the best surgeon and took the most aggressive approach available. I determinedly focused on healing and moving forward as quickly as possible. I asked Michael to do what I now realize was the impossible.  I asked him to treat me as if everything was the same as before that October day. (To his credit, I know he really tried although I could always see the terror in his brown eyes.) Cancer was not going to define me or change my life.

Approximately six months later, I was called into my boss’s office and told my position was being "eliminated" as part of a merger. I felt immensely betrayed because those who made the decision knew first-hand what I was going through. And I had serious doubts about my ability to manage what lay ahead. I felt like an empty shell of my former self both physically and emotionally. I pushed those self defeating thoughts aside and threw myself into finding a new role. Action again provided me as a way to move beyond this latest devastating development. I was offered a new job close to home but it did not have the same long term potential as the one I lost. So I turned it down (with full support of my terrific husband) and extended my search nationally. I found a great new position in Seattle and moved with my two young sons while my husband remained behind.

While I had been very open about my diagnosis in Chicago, I no longer wanted to share it much after getting to our new home. I was trying hard not to dwell on what might have been. (I still tear up if I let myself think about or discuss it). Things looked optimistic. And with regular monitoring, I hoped to keep it that way. But I felt a pressing need to keep a frenetic pace. I pushed myself hard at the new job to make a valuable contribution in a demanding environment and at home to be a great mom to my two boys who missed their dad when he wasn’t with us (as did I). At one point, I got pneumonia but I soldiered on coming to work only two weeks later. People remarked I did not look well, but I preferred forward momentum to convalescing at home. Predictably, I got pneumonia again and added a little strep throat for good measure.

We decided after my husband joined us in the Emerald City to pursue our long standing desire to add our third child to our family through adoption. Again a sense of urgency pushed me. I wanted to complete the process is as fast as we could. I was anxious to meet our daughter waiting out there for us. When our adoption agency experienced an issue with our paperwork, I talked Michael into a family road trip to Yakima to deliver it personally and avoid a 6 week delay. When our referral finally came in, I counted down each day until we could fly to Ethiopia.

Then we flew half away around the world and brought our beautiful new little daughter back to the Pacific Northwest. After she joined us, something changed inside me. Finally, I was able exhale and I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath. I could stop running from something and just be. The realization hit me one day while driving. I felt an unfamiliar calm and inner peace and reflected about how that came to be. This fierce little baby girl from East Africa with the piercing black eyes healed me in a way doctors could not. She completed our family, and in doing so, somehow gave me back something taken from me with the diagnosis and unexpected job loss. I have no explanation. I can hardly type as the tears fill my eyes and stream down my cheeks. Even after three years, I am touched to the core with the miraculous gift my amazing daughter gave me by just being her wonderfully unique and complex self. She loves pressing her cheek to mine, wrapping her arm around my neck and snuggling up with me -- and she has the most amazingly, tinkling, irresistable full belly laugh.  Some of my favorite shots from this year are below.

For those who want to tell me you are lucky, I want them all to know I am the lucky one. You made me more whole and made me want to be a better person. I can’t wait to see what you  accomplish as you grow into your huge potential and personality. Happy Fourth Birthday my darling, beloved Leyla!

Ethiopian Ties Continue to Ripple Between Seattle and Ethiopia.

As I am reviewing the results of last year’s event, I am left wondering how did it all come together so beautifully. I just sent out the thank you cards to many supporters letting them know they had done the unimaginable – raised almost double what we thought was an audacious goal for a first time event. (I found everything takes longer when the entire organization is supported by volunteers if you are wondering why "thank yous" for a December gala are going out in April.)



For me, the picture of two of my children captured our objectives perfectly. They are sitting at the bottom of the podium where a live auction is proceeding around them supporting literacy half a world away. The power of a book has drawn them in. The little hand of the Ethiopian/American girl clutches tightly her Dutch/Greek/American big brother’s neck as he gives voice to the words she cannot yet read. Both of them are completely transported outside of that room and into the story. The event was about reading, dreaming, providing opportunity, coming together, and celebrating .. . I felt all in the air that night.

The seed was planted when I first met Yadesa Boija, an Ethiopian artist. I asked him for a letter and something to bring to the Bahir Dar library (our first Ethiopia Reads effort) in Leyla’s birth town. He suggested a African Union flag which bore his winning design and his signature. I asked him to also include some inspiring words from someone who had walked their path in a letter to be read to the children. He said as we were parting, “You should do something in Seattle. If you do, I will help you.” For some reason, this idea, which I had not considered before, seemed like something I was supposed to do.

As we planned late last fall (this year I am starting much earlier!), pictures arrived from the the Mercado School and Bahir Dar library. The flag is seen hanging proudly in front in Mercado with the children’s excitement radiating outward. In Bahir Dar, a teacher is reading Yadesa’s letter to a class of children with his flag suspended between two more in the background. They are amazing images for me -- magical even.




I was happy to share these touching images. Yadesa had not gotten to visit the library as my family had in the summer and seen the joy and hope it brought to that community. His response was immediate and enthusiastic – “You made my day!” Yadesa is a shining example of how to make a difference in whatever unique way best suits you – encouraging and inspiring, providing a bit of yourself through your talents, or collaborating.

These children were evidence of ripples caused by taking a step forward in faith – first from Ethiopia - Yadesa and Leyla’s birthplace -- to Seattle where both families live now. Then the ripple reversed and headed back to Ethiopia through Yadesa’s words and art to the neighborhood of his childhood and to the first "Leyla’s Library" in her hometown (funded by our friends and family). These children and their teachers returned ripple back to us in Seattle through the wonder of photography and the internet. With the literacy program funded through this event and continued support of Ethiopia Reads, we look forward enabling those ripples to ebb and flow between Seattle and Ethiopia -- gaining momentum and energizing more and bigger dreams with each return.

Another strong believer in the ripple effect, Jane Kurtz, one of the founders and a tireless volunteer for Ethiopia Reads, relayed a story Yadesa shared about his early years growing up in Mercado (which means market). He accompanied an older brother to check out books at a library. When he asked to do the same, he was told could not because he was too young. He then sat in front of the building and said he was going to stay there until they let him check out a book. Finally, they relented after seeing this young boy was as good as his word.

Through Yadesa's sharing - whether his history, his paintings, or his words -- he gives life to ideas about the power of education, collaboration, art and reading to open hearts and facilitate big dreams.



He, along with many others, are helping us and Ethiopia Reads give more boys and girls the opportunity to do the same. As the logo designed by Yadesa so beautifully illustrates – open books + open hearts = big dreams.

I recently saw a great quote I thought summed up how we (which included volunteers, supporters and attendees) pulled off an amazingly successful first event:

“Believe and act as if it were impossible to fail."

--Charles F. Kettering, American inventor.

We are taking that approach again this year . .stay tuned.

Unsung Heroes – The Teenagers You Don’t Hear Enough About!

I know they are everywhere. I just don’t always see them.

Our fundraising auction dinner is over. It is hard to describe, “How was it?” I tried to wrap up my thoughts in a neat package any number of times. But I can’t seem to catch it all into something I can share easily. For me, it was a blur of activities, instructions, planning and worrying – in the middle of my ordinary life with three busy kids and two challenging careers. I had one clear thought at one a.m. in the morning walking to my car that day when most everything else was a haze. I knew heroes, often hidden in the shadows, made our event the huge success it was. I would like to recognize them here. I will start with my husband Michael's Kentwood High School National Honor Society students.

About twenty volunteered to help. Some of them are pictured above proudly wearing their "Open Hearts" t-shirts. I remember the first one arrived hours before the event started. I mistook him for a member of the museum staff because he came dressed in a suit. Soon a number more joined him. Only one student, of Ethiopian origin, had a more personal reason for his participation. All spent over ten hours nonstop doing the thankless jobs required to pull off a dinner charity auction. Little did I appreciate before this marathon day what is truly required.

We began in the early morning packing up the auction items that covered our first floor and transported them to the Northwest African American Museum in Seattle. We rented tables and dishes to save money over using a caterer. They had been delivered but volunteers needed to unpack and bring them out from a back room. Others then set them up. We had a silent auction of 100+ items. Volunteers scurried as the minutes ticked closer to when the first guest arrived to get all displayed to maximum effect on long tables lining the museum halls. Round tables in the main room were transformed into an inviting dining experience, and the desserts lined up into a tempting array, to turn sweet-tooths into dollars for literacy. Then followed the constant drip drip of urgent tasks after the guests began appearing -- water glasses to be filled, wine bottles opened, snacks put out, misplaced items located, questions answered. . . and on and on. . .

Two of the students provided a bit of drama as the program began. When a guest requested water for tea, two young men ran to the kitchen and located the water pot still unfortunately filled with cold water. They hurriedly brought it from the kitchen to the beverage station and plugged it in, apologizing to the guests for the oversight. Suddenly, the power for the PA and music was lost. Turns out the fuse was not set up to take the surge of energy required to make a large amount of frigid water hot. But it was only a momentarily diversion. And I assured the two everything was fine when I saw their crest fallen faces.

Throughout the evening, if you were paying attention, you could see these students moving quickly from one set of tasks to the next. They laughed and smiled with each other as they toiled. They raised issues they did not know how to handle but otherwise soldiered on. The camaraderie was palpable in the kitchen area where they congregated to grab a snack or drink whenever the activity died down a bit. At the end of a long evening, the guests were checking out and getting ready to drive home with their treasures. But these students were beginning the next set of duties. They cleared the tables of dishes and glass wear used by the 170+ guests, scraped leftover food into huge garbage bins, gathered the rented items and put them back into the storage room where they had found them, broke down the myriad of boxes that just hours before housed the silent auction selection and made numerous trips to the malodorous dumpster behind the museum.


I asked myself -- Why? What was in it for them?

Unlike our guests, it wasn’t to enjoy a wonderfully, prepared Ethiopian meal. They ate subway sandwiches in the kitchen standing up. It wasn’t the program. They were busy closing down the silent auction areas and staging the items for checkout and delivery to the winners when the artist, dancers, poet and writer provided their poignant connections to Ethiopia. It wasn’t the excitement of participating in or watching the live auction. They were delivering desserts, filling up water glasses and dropping off items to the winners while the auctioneer was plying his craft. These teenagers gave up a Saturday night to do the behind the scenes drudgery of helping a cause that most had no connection to – happily, willingly and with no tangible reward.


So why then? I honestly don’t completely know.

I think the fact my husband sets an example by giving up much of his personal time to help them is a big part of it. I also know these kids are high achievers who have experienced what it takes to succeed and aren't afraid of hard work. But I am not convinced these represent the complete explanation. I believe what they exhibited was their character and their heart. I do know for certain that without them the event could not have happened.

They were an unexpected source of inspiration for me – during a night with much to be inspired about already. These teenagers and their counterparts around the globe are our future. And if this evening provided a glimpse into what lies ahead, I see much reason to hope.

Happy Birthday Happy Homecoming 2011 - Am I Your Heart, Mommy?

“Am I your heart, Mommy?” Leyla inquired, her brown liquid eyes burrowing into mine. “Yes, you are my heart,” I responded. She threw her arms tightly around my neck and said, “I love you Mommy!!” Then she planted a big kiss on my lips and ran off to play. The question resonated as I am working on my first big fundraising event called “Open Hearts Big Dreams.”

Three years ago today, on my birthday, Leyla joined our family. I find myself reflecting on the passage of another year in a different way now. This amazing little person, born half way around the world into circumstances that are still difficult for me to fully comprehend, changed our lives in so many ways. She secured her place in the family with our first glimpse of her referral picture below. How much she has grown compared to a recent photo where her personality shines out of her brilliant smile.





Leyla is truly my heart (as are her brothers). She also opened my heart to her birthplace and the children who remain there. The statistics are staggering and heartbreaking. But I found Mother Teresa’s words so empowering, “If you can feed just one, then feed one.”

After Leyla had been home a year, I felt the weight of the question I could imagine my daughter asking me one day, “What did you do for the children who remained there?” Looking at her gave the desperation in her home country a face and the potential to make a difference a sense of urgency. When well meaning people ask me the “what if” question, I can’t even go there without tearing up. To think of this world without the light that emanates from her is unimaginable.

I started this blog and drew inspiration from my amazing daughter. I gained many Ethiopian connections in the last two years who gave me additional insight. Michael and I chose to support literacy so our Open Hearts (and the ones of those who support this effort) can fuel BIG DREAMS.

Before Leyla came into our lives, I had no idea of the enormity of the need:
• Less than 50% of Ethiopia’s children can go to school.
• Nearly 25% of first graders drop out of school.
• Only 36% of the population can read.
• The average adult makes less than $0.50 (US) per day.

Leyla the chubby baby is gone, replaced by a confident, sassy little girl. A friend of mine commented recently, “She is a firecracker just like her mother.” When I look into her face, I see a bright future full of promise. Her doctor has joked, “She will be a CEO one day,” because she likes giving direction. Although she lost much in the process of international adoption and we don’t take that lightly, she gained the ability to dream big dreams because for her education is a given.

I want that same ability for the girls and boys who remain in her East African country. Dreams shouldn’t depend on where you were born. My birthday wish is that everyone who reads this post gives something to help our efforts – could be as little as $2 - the equivalent to 4 days pay in Ethiopia. Just give what you can. (If you prefer to send a check, contact me.)

Open Hearts enable Big Dreams which every child deserves. Leyla is pictured with the children of the Mercado community we are supporting in this fundraiser. We are trying to make a difference one reader at a time . .. . for Leyla and for them.




"Once you learn to read, you will be forever free." Frederick B. Douglass

Open Hearts Big Dreams . . .lots of chills . . .and miles to go -- the anatomy of an accidental auction

How on earth did I get myself here? I find myself asking myself multiple times during the week. I have a demanding full time job, three very active engaged kids, a husband with his own demanding job and we both support a variety of local not for profits. “Here” is the middle of planning a dinner auction to complete funding for our second Ethiopia Reads library and a general literacy program through Tesfa Foundation in Mercado – the poorest section of Addis Ababa. My main experience with auctions is attending them – and that has only been a handful. I learned a bit more about the inner workings from being on a not for profit board. I thought how hard can it be .. I probably should have investigated further. But a little voice in my head said best not to think about it too much or you’ll chicken out. And so I leaped!

As the planning is progressing, I discovered a pattern. Each time I think I am at a stage where I can breathe, I learn some new wrinkle or requirement. And I sense the tentacles of panic waiting to take hold. First, I thought, "Get a venue lined up and a date and things will be well on their way." I find a wonderful spot at the Northwest African American Museum on December 17 and they give me a break on the usual fee. Success!?! But then, I ask myself, "How we brand our event?" The name and visual design needs express all the hope we want to sustain. Luckily I had able collaborators with Yadesa Bojia, an Ethiopian born Seattle artist, and Jane Kurtz, an acclaimed children’s author who grew up in Ethiopia.

I wanted to convey how travel, books and art all have the capacity to open your mind and heart to the diverse world. I also wished to express how I found if you open your heart, and release your fears; big dreams become possible. As Yadesa and I brainstormed, I learned he grew up in the same neighborhood this library and literacy program would serve – I felt chills. After a few passes, we settled on Open Hearts – Big Dreams. I loved it. It expressed so much of what our journey has been and continues to be. As we open our hearts, we enable our own big dreams as well as those of children half way around the world who need our help to enable theirs.

But the euphoria of creative success was short lived as another thought presses in, “What will we eat??” My mind immediately went to our traditional birthday dinner with Leyla at a favorite Ethiopian Restaurant called Kokeb. I call the proprietor and explained what I was planning. She was anxious to help and expresses her view we should all do our part in the world. I could have hugged her through the phone. She then laid out what she could do as a small business owner. She even suggested if we want to spend no money, I could contact a number of restaurants for donations to put together a potluck. I briefly consider this. But then I remember the laundry list of things I have ahead of me and decide the paid option was better.

For entertainment, I felt fortunate to have Yadesa and Jane willing to speak. I also reached out to a young poet I had written about previously. He shared his poem with me at that time but we had not connected since. I did not hear back which did not surprise me much. Then a few days ago, I got an email. He was taking the night off work to read the poem I requested. He also wanted to read a new poem that he was writing just for the event. Many more chills. ...

I have audacious goals for this auction – because I believe if you don’t have those, why bother! To make those a reality, I needed a live auction. But where to find an auctioneer? I asked a friend who recently raised funds for Children’s Hospital and she provided hers. I met him at a local Starbucks. He told me to be on the look out for Santa Claus. Sure enough he bore a striking resemblance to that children’s favorite. I learned as we chatted he is a foster dad, focuses his efforts on children’s charities and his boss was born in Ethiopia . . .chills - chills .. . .

We are now in the throes of inviting what seems everyone we know in Seattle and asking friends and every business we have frequented with help procuring items. My amazing husband is getting us get student volunteers from his school’s national honor society. We are shooting for 150 guests, 100 silent auction items, 10-15 live auction items to raise a grand total of $25,000. . . currently seems like a very Big Dream!

I still have miles and miles to go it seems. . . drinks, a sound system, desserts, centerpieces, an on-line store and much more .. .but the chills along the way give me confidence. The leaping was just the start – I just landed on a ledge just a bit farther down the mountain, at which point I needed to leap again to make progress. I see many more leaps and ledges. What keeps me leaping is all the Open Hearts I encounter -- items arrive, invitations are accepted, volunteers step forward, donations come -- and the Big Dreams the children of Mercado deserve to dream!!

Providing Tesfa – Hope – in Ethiopia and Beyond

When I started this blog and named it “ethiopian ties”, I was thinking of the ties we had to that East African country through adopting our daughter. As I have blogged since, those ties multiplied in many wonderful and unexpected ways. Our library planting in particular opened up our lives to people who amaze and inspire me . . .each with their own tie to Ethiopia.

Since we completed funding for our Bahir Dar Library, we are now working on funding for one in Addis Ababa. Jane Kurtz of Ethiopia Reads introduced us to Dana Roskey of the Tesfa (Amharic for hope) Foundation who is working to provide elementary education to parts of Ethiopia in desperate need of this hope. One of his schools is in the poorest part of Addis – Mercado.

When we were in Ethiopia this summer, we were fortunate to attend the Mercado kindergarten class graduation. Dana explained a bit about the area and the school as our driver struggled to navigate the dirt roads filled with pot holes and people on our way to the school . Dana joked he had chosen a challenging vocation for someone who easily gets motion sickness. The evidence of extreme poverty was palpable and everywhere I looked. But so was the optimism of the children – laughing and playing in the streets. Their faces were open and curious as we passed. And they warmed with a welcome smile and a twinkle in their eyes if we looked directly their way.

The graduation ceremony was the epitome of the joy that comes with hope. The parents were sitting expectantly – dressed in their best and crowded into the small rooms. The kids and I can be seen in the back of the room soaking it all in as Michael was our photo journalist.


The children came in cap and gown. At five years of age, I found this a particularly poignant sight. I could see in my mind their older versions in similar graduations as this education will likely change the course of their lives.


Dana stands out in this room. A tall lanky " ferenge" (a white foreigner in Amharic) as he refers to himself. He gives off an amazing positive energy while also coming across as completely laid back. He shakes hands with each student looking them directly in the eye. I could feel the pride and genuine fulfillment these children’s milestone provide to Dana.


But lurking there is also lingering sadness. Dana’s fiancé, Leeza, (Fregenet Woubshet), a 29-year-old American citizen of Ethiopian origin, was tragically killed in a car accident seven years earlier. His response to this unbearable loss was to take on the cause of fulfilling her dream to serve the children in her native land. His Tesfa Foundation has done just that -- opening seven schools in those seven years.

But I was also interested in the person. And what drove him in his mission of hope. Meeting Dana and spending time with him gave me a sense but I wanted to know more. I learned that he also blogged. Feeling a bit like an intruder in his personal thoughts and experiences, I read through a number of his entries one evening, into the wee hours when the house is quiet. I was humbled in so many ways. Our family is giving back because of the tremendous gift that came into our lives through our daughter. Our efforts multiple our joy as we have the opportunity to aid children like her in her native land.

His efforts were born out of tragedy. And he faces constant painful reminders. Even as he brings positive change to her world, he can’t share it in the same way he could if she were still physically here. My eyes filled with tears and rolled down my cheeks as I read his words, especially those written around the difficult anniversaries. (I learned there we had been with Dana in Ethiopia during the last anniversary week.) And I pondered – what could have been versus what is - so bittersweet. The tesfa phoenix rises for so many children out of the ashes of heartbreak. I find my eyes filling again with those tears as I write.

From my vantage point, the youngsters who attend his schools are now his children. And his relentless focus and drive, he does for them, for her, for Ethiopia, and for himself. We are honored to be able to bring a library to one of his schools and do our part to honor her, to support him and to spread hope in a country that gave us such an amazing gift. One more ethiopian tie is formed.