A Word of Hope

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A Word of Hope

On the plane back from Zimbabwe to the States, I felt a welling-up of emotion not helped by my choice to watch La La Land (but three straight hours of crying is healthy, right?). How to square the beauty and color and fierce kindness of this country with all the things I cannot fix (political strife, widespread hunger, unpredictable rains)?

I think most people in the nonprofit world sometimes feel this existential despair when they zoom out. What are we doing, really, in the end? Does it make a difference? Does it make a dent? Like Theoden King as multitudes of Orcs converge upon the ill-defended Helm’s Deep, we wonder whether, in the face of such hugeness, we should even bother trying. We’re still working to fund the borehole at Munyawiri, a month behind schedule. We had to postpone our August trip until winter due to a dearth of volunteers. Plans don’t always reach fruition in the way we suppose they will. Sometimes, they don’t reach fruition at all.

But then we’re reminded of the volunteers who walk daily to our project sites to care for their nutrition gardens. We see photos of schoolchildren picking peppers and onions and greens to eat with their sadza at lunch. We receive all kinds of support from our partner organizations and churches—and from people like you—and we’re sustained. This inevitably causes us to zoom in from our existential dread, knowing that while we cannot fix every problem that plagues this country we love, we can help Tawanashe, Takunda, Christine, Memory, the girl in the red sweater, and hundreds more.

Our efforts are worthwhile through their witness.


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