Jamaican me think. A lot.

So I just got off the phone with Penie in Jamaica. 15 years ago, she and her husband Jim left their lives as foster parents in the states to start a home in Whitehouse, Jamaica called "My Father's House."

Dozens of kids later they find themselves wondering how to keep the lights on. How to keep the water running. How to minister to families that call them and say "Papa Jim, we need food. We need clothes. Can you help?"

I've been to Jamaica. I've seen the poverty right outside of the Sandals resorts. I've seen the loneliness and the broken families and the need. And I had the chance (twice now, and soon to be three times) to walk alongside Mama Penie and Papa Jim and see their impact on the community there. They are not the big bad Americans that come in for an experience and give out material things and leave. They are the Jamaican citizens that work alongside families to build houses, to give out food, to hug kids, to carry water. And I got to do that too. For a week.

Soon, when God says so, we are going to start a campaign to help keep My Father's House open and keep those communities cared for. Soon, I hope you will take five minutes out of your day and contribute financially. It's awful that, when I say that, most of us think...I can't afford it. But think again. $5 in Jamaica goes so much farther than it does where we live. We can afford to give. Let's skip Starbucks. Skip the movies. Skip the fast food run. And give.

I'll be hollering at you soon. And I hope you holler back.


-Liz