Next in Line, Please....!!

I find myself asking, “What will You do with me?”
“…What will I do with You?”

It took five years, a wedding, three jobs and a lot of frustration for my thick little head to realize it. I’ve always loved the Over the Rhine line… “This ain’t no dress rehearsal, I’m a very lucky girl.” I’ve quoted that very line a number of times in relation to a number of situations, and yet, it’s now, at 25, that I’m finally realizing the good fortune that’s been granted me. I could go on about all the ways it plays out, but there’s one in particular I’m thinking about today. That day in 2007 when I first walked across the bridge over the Massacre River. It was July, and hot as hell. Literally. I actually think hell might be that temperature. I was melting, and as a result, somewhat miserable and unable to concentrate. And yet, that midsummer day easily numbers among the best days of my life. It changed me forever.

If you’ve spent any time with me, you’ve probably heard me tell the story. I was in college, and had started a social awareness group at my school. I was particularly interested in children’s rights issues, and a friend’s family generously and serendipitously offered to pay for me to go to Haiti, to see a friend of theirs who ran a children’s center just across the Dominican border. I was as naïve as could be, but eager, and when I walked across the bridge from the DR to Haiti, it was not just the heat burning in me. I cannot begin to explain what I felt, but I knew that this was my life. For now and forever, this was me. This place, these kids, these babies with no one to wipe the sweat off their brow. A child ran up to me saying, “Mami! Mami!” I found out later that “Mami” is the customary word used by children to refer to any older woman in Haiti, like we might say “Ma’am” in the States. But at the moment, I thought, “Yes, Mami. Perfect. That’s me. Your mommy.”

For five years since that day, I’ve fought with what to do, and how to get to the place of fully being Mami Amy. I worked with the children’s center for most of two years, but was unable to stay longer. I tried to make myself into an aid worker who would live full time with the kids, but that didn’t work either. You can’t force it. I have spent the years since then working in other non-profits, learning the art of fundraising. It’s a skill certainly needed in NGOs of all kinds, and I’m happy to have it in my toolkit! In my view, being “Mami” doesn’t just mean being a nurturer and changing diapers. It means using all my skills to benefit and make possible a full life for those with no one to call their own. There is nurture, but there is also strong, virtue-driven education, ethical business practices, a well-run system of funding that takes advantage of no one and allocates funds responsibly. I saw a drawing recently of a woman from the waist down, standing with one foot on a rocking chair and the other on a board room chair. I relate. That’s Mami Amy.
But alas. For years, I’ve been trying to find a place to put all of this. A place where I can use my skills to benefit the kids. But where is it? I’ve worked in Catholic education, something I strongly support. It was good, and I learned a lot. But I missed my babies. Now I work in Public Health fundraising. Again, close…but no cigar. Am I really that impatient? Or am I lucky… because I know what I want? Maybe some of both? Sometimes I envy those who have the ability to just go to a job, do it, go home, do it again. Duty. I lack that skill. I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had, but certainly long for one that joins my heart and head.

I’m not giving up on this. I’ve had my fair share of advisors of the “oh, the dreams will ware off when you grow up” persuasion over the past few years. But I still wake up and go to sleep every day thinking of these children -- sometimes nameless and faceless, but always there. I can’t quite explain that, but I also can’t ignore it. I’ve written and published articles on the topic, I’ve spoken at various small events, I’m currently sitting on a board. But I want my hands dirty. I hope and pray the time comes soon.