Mother’s Day in Thailand

Today is Mother’s Day in Thailand, and our team had the incredible experience of sharing it with some of the kids from the children’s home. The children all go to one of four local schools (where they are allowed to attend but not use any of the government subsidies like all of the other children). Often in school, they are referred to as The Poor Burmese Children, or the Foundation kids, or any other litany of hurtful names. Almost all of the children are orphaned or abandoned. Some of them are in the home because their mothers that are too strung out on drugs that they can’t care for them and keep trying to sell them. All of them have a painful story that led them to this place.However, today was about honoring mothers in Thai society and we had the privilege to come to one of their schools and represent their moms for them, so that they wouldn’t feel left out. Allie was one of the girls on our team who came a represented being a “mother” for the children at their school’s special program. These are her thoughts on the experience:”Mothers. So many shapes and sizes and colours that there is hardly a simple definition for the word. She is the one who made you the nest inside herself, protected by layers of her own flesh. She is a woman with beliefs that rub off on your own. To scold you when you need it. To praise you when you need it. From a cut on your knee, sealed back together by the needle and thread of her lips, to someone stealing a piece of your heart as she presses your head in the fissure between of her breasts and reminds you to keep breathing. A Mothers life to me was like my grade five science fair on marigolds. They’d nurture us while they stood back and patiently watched as our bones stacked up and our heads popped up from beneath the soil. But now the word that was once so structured seems to have changed, replaced by a new set of eyes instead of the sleep covered ones I had in the early morning as I removed my shoes at the doorway and prepared myself for three hours of non-English speaking chaos. It was my first time seeing the kid’s at school in an environment outside their safety net and I didn’t know what to expect. We waited outside, a fair distance from the school,  until a man dressed in a lint brown suit, sporting a toothy smile and air of great importance waved us to come forward. He ushered us into a room packed with a swarm of mothers old and new, animal calls coming from the throats of adrenaline dosed children in bright dresses and smart high socks barely clinging to their tiny bodies, only competing in volume against the whirring from the tired fans above. We were able to squirm ourselves to a small recess way in the back and as the speeches were given I sat amongst the woman fussing to create masterpieces on the tiny heads of short, black hair, scraped into impossible twists and running sloppy lines of red lipstick to each corner of a moving mouths. Suddenly I couldn’t help but feel like I was part of secret group as I watched the kids I hugged and laughed with and cried for perform with their classmates. It was something I could only describe as pride bursting inside me while their cheeky, plump faces showed signs of concentration on the dance steps and constant distractions of flashes from cameras. For the last couple minutes of the assembly we were called to centre stage. Without looking I knew my white skin had tinged a darker shade, as all eyes looked me over as if I was a duckling thrown into a circle of swans. Though none of it mattered as our kids ran into our arms pinning each one of us with a flower, fake and cheap and LiveDifferent (formerly Absolute)ly the most wonderful thing I had ever been graced to adorn. I had beenthe mother to those children. The one normal childhood experience intheir anything but normal life. The sniffles of runny noses could be heard on either side of me and I squeezed the little tribal girl in my arms harder before she could even clip the pin into place. But while the pin kneaded me under my shirt I didn’t think of the tears stains to come from the children’s glittered cheeks. Nor did I ponder on what their life once was. No, I could just think about the kids mothers still living. The Mothers scrounging around in the filth of humanity, in search to feed their ever starving addictions more important than their own blood. The Mothers who walk out the door completely when their husbands or boyfriends seek the sound of skin meeting skin, who leave unspeakable scars that tag along with them to whatever semblance of a life they fight for. Or the Mothers who missed their children’s make-up caked faces in their school performance, the kiss they didn’t press to the cut on their knee, the sounds from their breaking and healing heart. And I feel sorry for them. That they’d chosen to miss out on something so beautiful. Their children survive on.”

Suzu-Chu’s Song

The bridge to get there was made of long strips of thin bamboo, loosely wired together. It was precariously laid across a rushing, muddy stream full of garbage and whatever else you can imagine, and I felt torn between taking in my surroundings and trying to focus on not falling through the bamboo to the river below.We were there because our Hero Holiday Thailand team was taking a day with a drop-in centre to do some visitation to the families across the Burmese border. We had arrived there on a tuk-tuk, had walked through thick, red muddy fields, and were covered in mud up to our ankles as we inched our way across the tiny bridge. On the other side were small bamboo houses, covered with thatched, patchy roofs and clinging to the small hill along the river’s edge – each of them worse off than the last. The smell of charcoal smoke and grime filled the air. It was the familiar smell of desperate poverty: simultaneously drawing and repulsing you by what it represented.Stopping at the first house, we dropped off rice for widowed mother of 8 children. Three of her kids were ensnared in the sex industry in the border town we had just come through, one was safe in the children’s home, and the rest were too young or too stoned on weird opiates to be of any use. As she explained how her husband had died in an accident five months earlier, her youngest child sat on her hip, barely a year old. She was dying of cancer and not sure what was going to happen to her family, but the team we were with were working with her to try to find solutions for their situation, and she was confident they would be ok. And now she wanted to show us a family that she felt needed more help in a different way. As we clung to the riverbanks to get to the other house, I was trying to wrap my mind around what she could think was worse than her situation.Stopping at the entrance to another similar bamboo hut, we entered the back room and were beckoned to sit on the small, straw mat in the centre. A young mother sat there, protectively laying her hand on a small child who was writhing on the floor, her back and body grotesquely bending backwards and forwards as her eyes rolled back and forth. She was incredibly frail, and as she writhed around, she softly hummed to herself, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. Her name was Suzuchu.Her mother held out pictures to me of a chubby, smiling baby: one of her sitting in a park, one of her perched on a table, laughing. Following those photos, she handed me x-ray images of a brain that was clearly not healthy. Through the translator, she explained that her child had water on her brain and spine and that she was dying. She was six years old, but she was clearly not going to grow past where she was when she contracted the disease – whether from a water parasite or some othe viral infection. But she was the centre of her mother’s world, and the look of tenderness on that mother’s face was unsurpassed in beauty. This child was beautiful and this woman’s world was in her arms at that moment. I looked past her to the other mother and saw her holding her own baby close, realizing that to that woman – and many women around the world – a far worse fate than dying herself was to helplessly watch her own children suffer.”Is there anything we can bring you to help your child?” I asked, choking on my own words.After a brief pause, she smiled shyly and said, “Yes, maybe one thing.”Turning to the tin on the rickety shelf behind her, she pulled out a small foil packet. “This is special milk for my daughter. Could I have a few more?” As I stared at it, the packet looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place where I had seen it before. She handed it to our translator.Smiling, he said to us quietly, “This is Coffee Mate. I think we can find this and something better for her child.” She smiled in thanks, not understanding the implications.Earlier that morning, in my hotel dining room, as I quickly grabbed a cup of coffee, I had used the same package of Coffee Mate as I had lamented to myself that there was no fresh milk. Now I sat on this mat with a mother who believed that this same package could help sustain her daughter. We sat inches apart, but we lived in worlds that were miles apart.I don’t know who originally gave this mother Coffee Mate for her child, but we went out and got her more – as well as nutritional supplements and formula. Will Coffee Mate change her world? Not really. But consistent love, compassion and support can help ease the pain and point to a future, and that is what the staff from the outreach centre do every day in that community. It was the least we could do for a mother who taught us about love on that bamboo mat, as her dying daugher sang to her.We are in Thailand right now with our Hero Holiday team. As we are out on our adventures and working in the hot sun, we are each learning about how incredible compassion can be and realizing that we all play a part to end the cycle of poverty. You can join us on our next trip here! Check out www.livedifferent.com for more details.”Do all things with love.” ~ Og Mandino

Mexico August 1 – 10

August 4, 2010We hit the job site earlier than yesterday and possibly with more energy, or maybe it was just confidence.  After greeting the family with the usual “Buenos dias,” we started swinging hammers. The morning consisted of finishing walls and playing with the always energetic children of the household and neighborhood. If anything, Hero Holiday participants should learn one word and one word only – capuchi (ka-poo-chee).  It means piggyback, and believe me – los ninos (the children) NEVER get tired of those, and do not think we should either!  Playing with the children and hearing their genuine laughter and seeing their smiles, makes for many precious moments that will stay in our memories for a very long time. The mother and her sister made us lunch again, and once again, it was incredible.  We know it isn’t easy for her to supply eighteen hungry workers with lunch. The Coca Cola and feast most likely cost the mother a few days’ salary.  Feeding us is her way of giving back, and it truly demonstrates how much our work is appreciated and how thankful they are for our presence. After our tummies were overly filled, we came to the moment of building we were all waiting for. After one and a half days of work, we stood the house up.  Each wall fit into place, and on the concrete pad where two days ago there was nothing, now stands a blue house.  It is more than a house to the family.  It is a weight lifted from their shoulders and a dream transforming into reality.  I’ll never forget the mother’s smiling face when her life changed, wall by wall.  

The Hero Holiday experience is incredible.  One minute we are in the midst of a construction site, hammering nails and cutting lumber, but then during a water break, not twenty meters away you find yourself surrounded by muchos ninos (many kids). They all are so eager to laugh, smile, hug, and play. It’s incredible that people with so little are so happy.

August 5, 2010

Today we drove up to the job site and pride and happiness swelled within all of us as we laid eyes on the structure that we built. The family officially acquired a roof over their heads today.  Sweat, dust, and tar mixed together equals many dirty volunteers but one fantastic roof. Finishing the roof wasn’t the only thing accomplished, as the inside of the house was developing nicely. The Mexican children, whether from the family or from nearby houses, loved to get hands on experience when it came to painting.  They probably got more paint in their hair and on their face than on the walls!  But they loved every minute of it, and we loved working alongside them.  Lunch was once again graciously provided by our family, and it appeared this would be a continuing trend during our working week.  No complaints here!  Today ended a little bit early; the volunteers were taken to a beautiful beach where we splashed in the waves, took photo upon photo, and managed to get sand everywhere!

August 6, 2010

Today was a day of many jobs, as there was much to finish before dedication tomorrow.   As Andrew listed off everything that needed to be completed, we all cringed as it seemed we would be there until dark.  However, everyone put in extra effort and we accomplished our tasks not only before sundown, but with smiles on our faces.  We all put in some time digging the bano, and it appeared that we would dig right through Earth’s core to the other side. One of the most strenuous jobs was putting up the 6 foot tall wind fence, which involved digging two foot holes, hand mixing cement, and lining up the posts and siding properly. To say the least, it wasn’t easy. At the end of the day, it stood tall and mostly straight and did a fine job of blocking the relentless dust for the family. This was an extra project that our entire team donated money toward. Because of the open area this family lives in, dust is constantly getting blown in their yard, and consequently, coating everything including them.

August 7, 2010

It is amazing that a house can be built in four days.  It is equally amazing that a family we knew for such a short time could steal our hearts and change our perspective on the way we live. This family will be in our hearts and memories for the rest of our lives, and we will never be the same because of them. Each participant grew extraordinary amounts this week; we expanded our hearts and reached out to families in desperate need. We gained so much awareness of the reality that is life for the majority of people living in the world.  Not everyone has access to health care, clean water, and three meals a day. Most people struggle to meet even the most basic needs, and this is the reality we acknowledged this week. Today was house dedication day. The furniture, food, clothes, bedding, and toys were brought to both sites and organized in each house. For the first time in their lives, these two families had a sturdy roof and four walls to protect them. I cannot imagine how it felt for them to climb into their new beds and fall asleep with next to no worries, knowing the next day, and the days after that would feel like Christmas morning, every morning. At dedication, we stood in a half circle of heroes.  We got to express our feelings and gratitude with the help of Tony, our interpreter. Despite the language barrier, it was obvious that our true feelings and intentions were understood by the family, as happy tears were shed by everyone. The atmosphere was thick with emotion as the keys were given to the family and they walked into their new house for the first time, greeted by their new belongings.

Shortly, the build team followed the family into the house. We all received many thanks and a loving embrace from the mother and her sister, accompanied by words many of us did not understand. However, the message of love and gratitude can be understood in every language.  After things settled down, the family served everyone a heaping bowl of (pasole?).  She made us a delicious meal that is customarily served at Christmas; it is a meal of celebration.  We gave our thanks and said our sad goodbyes, but not before a group picture and exchange of many loving words.  Saying goodbye was by far the hardest part, and we will never forget the family waving to us and blowing kisses as we drove away.

~ Kolby and Kyle

How to Get your Heart Stolen

I never thought building a house would change my life; I thought my team and I would change the life of a deserving family and feel great about it. I was so wrong, the family did more for me then I could’ve ever done for them. When we first pulled up to the house I couldn’t believe the conditions they lived in, I was so anxious to start hammering some nails, little did I know the family would steal my heart. On the first day I kept to my work, hammering and measuring away, I talked to my team mates a lot and had a ton of fun. I became very close with them over the course of the trip; I’m going to miss them so much when they leave.I didn’t talk to the family too much on the first day. Coming back to next day I spent some time with the kids and in the first 5 minutes I was in love with the family but David, one of the sons, stole my heart. I love that little boy so much, I couldn’t wait to go back and be able to play with him. He is the cutest and happiest little boy! I cannot describe how beautiful his smile is, and even with his two front teeth barely there it’s still amazingly beautiful. Every day I spent more and more time with him, whether it was just holding his hand while our team leader Kent was talking or chasing him around with the truck. It was always the time of my life! I still helped a lot with the house build of course.We showed up one day and he was playing with a beetle tied to a string, he was so happy and it amazed me that something so simple could make a kid grin from ear to ear. It makes me appreciate all that I have back home (although I now consider Mexico my home as well). Continuing on through the week we kept working hard and playing with the kids, I know we all fell more and more in love with the family, the saddest part of the day was always going home. I could not get over my excitement when all the walls were built and it was time for them to go up, I was like a kid in a candy store the way my heart was pounding. I had never been so excited in my whole life, at least not for a couple more days. After getting the final touches done on the house we went shopping for food and furniture for the house, we also sorted the clothes we had brought down as donations and divided them up for the houses the two teams working on.We headed over to the house on August 7, 2010, dedication day. We brought all the clothes and food, the furniture was delivered. We took an hour or so to set up everything and lock the house before the family showed up. After we were done, we all stood outside the house and said our good-byes and told the family how much they meant to all of us. Everyone was in tears, but the good tears. I couldn’t stop looking at David, the look on his face, he was so happy. At least what I could see through the tears streaming down my face. Their faces filled with more excited and tears as they were presented the keys and walked into their house, we let them go in by themselves but peered in the windows, I will never forget all their smiles. We went into the house to play with the kids and their new toys. I gave David a hug and never wanted to let him go, I wanted to stay with him forever. I will never forget him or his family, they made me realize how lucky I am to be so privileged to have been born in Canada, it’s that simple I was born in a country with wealth and they weren’t. They love each other so much and appreciate what they have; it made me think and re-evaluate my life.I hope I’m able to come back and see them on my next Hero Holiday or visit when I’m in Mexico some day. Trust me no matter how tough you think you are, a little kid or a whole family will change your life in ways you can’t imagine.~ Shelby, a summer intern in Mexico

Vantage Point

Here in Thailand, our team is experiencing life in a whole new perspective. As our eyes are opened to what is going on in the world that we are currently immersed in, our hearts are being broken by the obvious exploitation and pain of poverty that is stealing so many futures, hopes, and dreams. This is what Vicky saw when we were at the Burmese border, working with the VCDF street team:“When you see a tourist, you would normally think that they were there to look at the city and its surroundings. As I watched dozens of people traveling through the border into Burma I wondered where their travels might take them. Only letting my imagination think pleasant thoughts, I wondered whether they might be going to shop in the fabulous night markets or perhaps experience an exciting tuk-tuk ride. When I heard a group of people talking, I looked over my shoulder and saw  about 15 Caucasian males , some in early thirties others in their forties taking photos in front of the Mekong River, which seemed perfectly normal to me.  There was one female in the group so I assumed they were not there for exploitation. A little while later a few hero holiday participants and I were walking along the streets preparing to leave when we saw it. One of the Caucasian males, who I had seen earlier taking photos in front of the river, was holding a girl about seventeen by her thigh.  My pleasant thoughts turned to nightmares and I knew that tourist was not there to browse the night markets or ride tuk-tuks. That night that teenager, who was my age, had been sold to man old enough to be her father.”Vicky and the rest of the team are a part of something exciting – something that is bringing hope to hundreds of stateless orphans, young mothers, and their children. It is called safety and it comes in the form of a group of people who are committed to seeing them get off the streets and out of sexual exploitation and into a life of freedom, education and knowing they belong. We are honored to work alongside of them on this Hero Holiday.

I Loved You Before I Knew Your Name

Tons of smiling faces ran towards the van as we hopped out. Friendly smiles, giggles and laughs, and hugs were given to me by children I had never met in my entire life. I instantly fell in love with them –  before knowing their names, their stories, or anything about them, I knew I loved them and would never forget them.No one could ever guess these beautiful kids had grown up in anything close to a harsh environment. They have so much to cope with and to deal with and they take it all with grace. Nothing in the world could wipe the smiles off their faces. A seventeen year old girl living at the home said something to me that is now etched in to my memory and will never be forgotten. As I left, she looked at me and said “I see your eyes, I see you, I see you are good heart.”To be quite honest, I don’t know how this makes me feel; I feel honoured that such an amazingly strong young woman would have something so incredibly complimenting to say to me, but at the same time I feel unworthy. I see her, I see she is strong and very brave. She LiveDifferent (formerly Absolute)ly amazes me: her eyes tell such an incredible tale, and she seems to have a wise soul.Although we don’t speak the same language, these children have taught me so much. They have taught me that hope is there – no matter how unreachable it may seem. They have taught me what strength really looks like, and – most importantly –  the people here have taught me compassion. I am so excited to keep learning from these amazing people, and to play with them, seeing the world through their eyes.~Brittany, Hero Holiday Thailand Participant

A Laugh Sounds the Same in Every Language.

After a very hyped trip from San Diego to the Baja, all participants started work today at their building sites. Split into two groups, the 32 heroes began to build accommodations for the much deserving families. The houses are beginning to look less like forgotten lumber and more like homes.Some highlights from today included: interesting rest room stops, amazing authentic tacos, the candy store, ice cream, laughs upon laughs, a dance party, and most recently an outdoor sing along to “Don’t Stop Believing.”Tonight consisted of a daily debriefing where everyone had a chance to talk about their observations, first impressions and plans for the week. Debriefing is a good chance for our individual build groups to become closer. Sharing about the feelings you’ve experienced with people who understand is comforting, and evening activities are also a great way to turn your new acquaintances into life long friends.Everyone is extremely outgoing which makes for an amazing trip. When participants feel accepted and at home, it creates a memorable experience. The dance party for example shows how everyone is relaxing in the Mexican environment and letting loose. And not only is everyone having a good holiday but they are also working hard too and getting lots accomplished.The locals are extremely impacting, from the mother at the one building site who made us lunch (despite the fact that she has six sons to support as well as herself on an income of under forty dollars a week!). Also, we met a boy from the community who has found himself in a wheelchair but still went throughout today with a gigantic smile on his face. He helped build and did all that he could and I think all of us could take something from that. Everyone we meet along the way will leave something in our hearts and we will most likely leave something in the hearts of others. So, as the earth cools, and the stars shine bright it is apparent we have all had time to realize the real impact of what Hero Holiday promotes.~ Greer and Hailee

Poverty Shows No Mercy.

       This past month in the Dominican Republic, I met a little boy who has made an indelible mark on my life. We as Canadians are often swamped with statistics and numbers that are impossible to understand. How do we begin to process that there are 400 million children worldwide who do not have enough access clean drinking water to live? Can a person really ever grasp what is means for 25,000 lives to be lost daily because of hunger related causes? What does it mean that at least 15 million stateless people exist in our world today?  Whenever I hear these statistics, they are no longer numbers to me. These statistics represent Steven. I have looked into his eyes, and held his hand, I know that his pain and struggle is real.I first met Steven on the day of our community party. We had packed up our trucks with all of the Hero Holiday participants, sound gear and speakers, countless donations, and a supply of clean drinking water for the day. We drove to the slum area where we had planned to throw the party. The people in this particular community are surviving on sometimes less than a dollar a day. As we pulled up and started to unload the trucks, we were swarmed by ecstatic children. Despite their desperate situations they were eager to spend the day together. The kids were ready for a full afternoon of celebrating and enjoying each others company, dancing, unlimited shoulder rides and the promise of a delicious meal. In the face of this excitement and laughter I found Steven standing off on his own. I went over to him expecting hugs, and giggles like I had heard from all of the other children. As I knelt down to ask him his name, he looked up at me with an utterly blank stare. There was no look of expectation or sparkle in his eyes, only sadness. He seemed so distant, so separated from the happiness surrounding him. I spent the rest of the afternoon with him, trying to get him to open up. I asked him as many questions as I could, the only response I got was a quietly whispered “Steven”.The more time I spent with him the more I hoped he was just simply shy. I hoped I would get the chance to hear his laughter, but that was never the case. Hunger, struggle and grief had stripped him of his innocence and of his smile. In that moment it became clear; poverty knows no mercy. As the party came to a close, our trucks drove away, leaving the community with new clothes, full bellies and a sense of value and new friendship. The only thing on my mind was Steven. I continued to wonder what he had witnessed in his few years of life to leave him so detached and unresponsive to everyone around him. How is it possible for someone so young to be entirely immersed hopelessness?A few days later a smaller group of us returned to his slum neighborhood to spend time with the children. We decided to set up a projector and a white sheet to play the movie, Finding Nemo, an experience most of these children would never otherwise be exposed to.  Immediately I looked for Steven and once again I found him off on his own. He seemed to recognize me, but not even a hint of a smile flickered across his face. I lifted him into my arms and held onto him for the rest of the night. That evening I found out that he was an orphan, he did not know his own age and was stateless in the Dominican Republic. Steven has no legal documents and no birth certificate, so according to the government he does not exist. He will not have access to health care or the opportunity to be enrolled in school.  Holding onto his tiny body I could feel the air rattle in and out of his lungs with each breath, I could feel his empty, bloated stomach rumble and groan with hunger. The grip of poverty had never felt more real to me. I will the never understand the twinge in his stomach or the ache in his heart, I will never understand which pain is more crippling, but I do understand that no child should face this reality. That night I left feeling angry that our world has betrayed this little boy, I went home wondering how this is a reality for someone who could not be older than the age of four. How has Steven been left to his own defenses, alone and forgotten by the rest of the world?Throughout the month spent in the DR, I had the opportunity to go back and see Steven a few more times and learn more about his life.  With the help translators and other people in community, I discovered that he had lost both of his parents in the earthquake in Haiti this past January. He had been relocated to the Dominican Republic, by the community leader, along with his ten year old brother Asdejay. It difficult to imagine that the way he is living now is a safer and more fulfilling than his alternative. Asdejay works in the garbage dump, collecting plastic bottles, alongside other refugees. Sifting through hospital needles, rotting meat, human waste and any kind of garbage imaginable to help provide for Steven and himself. The garbage dump is no place for a child. He makes $0.07 CD for each bag of plastic bottles he collects.In the process of understanding Steven’s story I felt moved to do something, I wanted him to know that he is of loved. I want him to know that he has value and that I will carry him in my heart and mind always. Growing to understand his struggle has rekindled the fire in me to be a part of the solution to the vicious cycle of poverty. There is no reason that he should be forced to face these struggles when we have every convenience resting comfortably at our fingertips. We have unlimited access to information and infinite possibilities to fulfill our dreams and yet he is abandoned, out of sight and out of mind. Despite the deep sadness of Steven’s reality I am choosing not to feel defeated or become cynical. I am choosing instead to become a voice for the voiceless. I will be a voice for Steven.  Steven has touched my heart, and after meeting him I will never be the same.~ Nikki, a School of Leadership alumni and volunteer staff on our Dominican Hero Holiday 2010

Sawa-dee-ka from Thailand!

Hey Everyone! We are here! After leaving Vancouver, flying to Shanghai, transferring to Bangkok, staying overnight, flying to Chiang Rai and driving an hour to Chiang Saen, we are finally here! And, we are excited to see what kind of adventures and incredible moments we are about to be a part of.This week we will be working at the VCDF children’s home (www.yourbuddies.org), helping to construct a kitchen and build a recycle centre at a home that helps to take care of over 130 orphaned and rescued kids ages 1-16. It is a place of hope and we are so honored to be able to come and work alongside of them and learn about their lives.Stay tuned for all the news on how our projects are going and all of our adventures as we work and experience this incredible area of Thailand called the “Golden Triangle”, where Thailand, Laos and Burma all converge together at one point along the Mekong River. Sawa-dee-ka!

BE THE CHANGE by Cory Brigham

This is a song that was written by a participant on our Hero Holidays named, Cory Brigham. Every time he performs it on our trips it challenges and encourage our students.To all our past Hero Holiday participants, remember the people you helped and gave so much hope to and do not forget their struggles as you continue your lives back in Canada. You can make a difference and be the change to help those in need!We came and we saw that they’d prayed for the hope that we brought them.They may be a long way from us but they’re not forgotten.We cried and we cursed ourselves for not caring enough.But I wonder if we’ve given them as much as they’ve given us.Seeing them smile and the feeling of holding their hands,The meeting of colours like the shades of an old photograph.Lost in the clouds I knew I’d left something behind.Now my heart is theirs, just as much as it’s mine.And I promise I’ll see them again, I’ll always remember their face.Forever I’ll be their friend, most of all, I’ll be the change.Sitting on top of a rock overlooking the sea.I know that I’m home but there’s somewhere I feel I should be.What gives us the right, what makes us better than them?What separates us aside from a line in the sand?Imagine that was your child behind those eyes.You know she’s so thirsty that she doesn’t have tears to cry.There’s millions of people who could save her life but insteadThey spend all their money on clothes and leave her for dead.And I promise I’ll see her again, l’ll always remember her face.Forever I’ll be her friend, most of all, I’ll be the change.Most of us think, being so small, we can’t make it stop.But every flood begins with one single drop.Everyone searches for purpose and meaning to life.And I know that I found mine, so this is goodbye.But I promise I’ll see you again, I’ll always remember your face.Forever I’ll be your friend, most of all, I’ll be the change.We came and we saw that they prayed for the hope that we brought them.They may be a long way from us but they’re not forgotten.