"Elephant in the room" (as described by Wikipedia) is an English metaphorical idiom for an obvious truth that is being ignored or goes unaddressed. It is based on the idea that an elephant in a room would be impossible to overlook; thus, those who pretend the elephant is not there have chosen to avoid dealing with the looming big issue.
One of those issues is the Orphan Epidemic. You've probably seen the pictures and heard the stories of their plight. The bad news is that it’s often easy for us to turn away from dirty, snotty, malnourished kids. The good news is that my middle son is addressing this particular “elephant in the room” through a non-profit organization called Patch Our Planet. He saw a problem that is largely underserved and felt compelled to do something about it.
According to most estimates, there are in excess of 140 million orphans worldwide. The population of Russia is slightly under 142 million people, to provide some context. Enormous numbers of children are in the streets of our countries each year, with no direction and no hope. Is it any wonder that sex trafficking, drugs, and homelessness enter into and profoundly affect these young lives?
My son founded Patch Our Planet with the belief that there is only one lasting solution, or patch, to the Orphan Epidemic, and that is through churches. There was a time when churches took the lead in this crisis. But at some point that church leadership diminished, while at the same time the orphan problem was growing exponentially larger. That is what Patch Our Planet has been chartered to do: to provide sustaining leadership. It exists to equip and educate churches to care for orphans here and around the world. It sees a world where every church in every community is caring for every orphan. That’s leadership! And that’s working toward a sensible solution to a large and seemingly intractable problem.
How exactly does it work? Patch Our Planet has developed two strategies for the local church. There is a Local Orphan Strategy (foster care) and a Global Orphan Strategy (world orphans). It works in collaboration with the leaders of churches to fit the strategy into the church's overall vision.
How can you help? You can imagine trying to start a non-profit organization in this economic environment. Launching any type of venture at any given time is a daunting task, so there must be a passion that underlies the organization. I see that passion in my son's organization. There is an elephant in the room and my son has chosen to step forward and do something about it. He can use your help, along with the millions of orphans’ lives he has been inspired to improve. Here are some ways you can learn more:
Website: www.patchourplanet.org
Donate: http://patchourplanet.blogspot.com/p/our-inspiration_25.html
Follow on Facebook: Patch Our Planet
Monday, September 26, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A Marine Hero
Today former Marine Corps Corporal Dakota Meyer was presented the nation’s highest military award for combat valor, the Medal of Honor, by President Obama in a White House ceremony. Corporal Meyer’s Medal of Honor award is the first to a living Marine since the Vietnam War.
Disobeying an order to remain clear of a deadly ambush zone, Corporal Meyer moved forward in a Humvee driven by a fellow Marine to provide covering fire and to also evacuate several wounded against what was right on the verge of being an overpowering enemy force. Corporal Meyer entered the lethal space four separate times in the process of rescuing 36 Afghan and American troops, several of whom he personally carried to the Humvee for evacuation to the rear. After already performing well above the normal call of duty, Corporal Meyer learned that four of his mates were still in the ambush area. Making a fifth trip, Corporal Meyer again braved withering fire only to find that his three fellow Marines and a Navy corpsmen had been killed in the vicious firefight. “It’s what Marines do,” he replied when asked why he moved forward when others stayed back.
At the time, Corporal Meyer was 21 years old.
Like other Medal of Honor awardees, Corporal Meyer insists he is hardly a hero. He says he will accept and wear the medal to honor the Marines he served with, especially his four buddies who died. “The worst day of my life,” he says of his profound sense of loss. “I feel like I failed them and failed their families.”
My gosh. A failure?
This young man made five trips into what was a hot combat hell, with 36 men alive today based directly upon what he did. He drove out under the threat of likely violent death five different times. He tore into the enemy with the ferocity of an enraged United States Marine, the flashing of his weapon the last sight many of his Taliban ambushers probably ever saw. He left his position several times to bring wounded to his vehicle. He himself was wounded. He left no one on the field. All of this after having been ordered to stay put.
A failure?
No. A warrior.
One hears the term “warrior” these days to describe athletes and others who play games. The word’s use is widespread and gratuitous, much like the young use “amazing” to describe anyone or anything only slightly above ordinariness. To see an NFL wide receiver thumping his chest after a routinely “amazing” play and hear him characterized as a “warrior” is ludicrous when compared to a real warrior like Corporal Dakota Meyer.
That our nation produces such courageous, selfless people as Dakota Meyer should make us ALL better. You have the gratitude of this former Marine for what you did and who you are.
Semper Fi, my young brother.
Disobeying an order to remain clear of a deadly ambush zone, Corporal Meyer moved forward in a Humvee driven by a fellow Marine to provide covering fire and to also evacuate several wounded against what was right on the verge of being an overpowering enemy force. Corporal Meyer entered the lethal space four separate times in the process of rescuing 36 Afghan and American troops, several of whom he personally carried to the Humvee for evacuation to the rear. After already performing well above the normal call of duty, Corporal Meyer learned that four of his mates were still in the ambush area. Making a fifth trip, Corporal Meyer again braved withering fire only to find that his three fellow Marines and a Navy corpsmen had been killed in the vicious firefight. “It’s what Marines do,” he replied when asked why he moved forward when others stayed back.
At the time, Corporal Meyer was 21 years old.
Like other Medal of Honor awardees, Corporal Meyer insists he is hardly a hero. He says he will accept and wear the medal to honor the Marines he served with, especially his four buddies who died. “The worst day of my life,” he says of his profound sense of loss. “I feel like I failed them and failed their families.”
My gosh. A failure?
This young man made five trips into what was a hot combat hell, with 36 men alive today based directly upon what he did. He drove out under the threat of likely violent death five different times. He tore into the enemy with the ferocity of an enraged United States Marine, the flashing of his weapon the last sight many of his Taliban ambushers probably ever saw. He left his position several times to bring wounded to his vehicle. He himself was wounded. He left no one on the field. All of this after having been ordered to stay put.
A failure?
No. A warrior.
One hears the term “warrior” these days to describe athletes and others who play games. The word’s use is widespread and gratuitous, much like the young use “amazing” to describe anyone or anything only slightly above ordinariness. To see an NFL wide receiver thumping his chest after a routinely “amazing” play and hear him characterized as a “warrior” is ludicrous when compared to a real warrior like Corporal Dakota Meyer.
That our nation produces such courageous, selfless people as Dakota Meyer should make us ALL better. You have the gratitude of this former Marine for what you did and who you are.
Semper Fi, my young brother.
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