Eight years ago I met Dolly and her husband. Five days after the tsunami that devastated the lives of hundreds of thousands of people they were standing in the middle of a pile of rubble that was their home and business. Over the following weeks we worked with them and the community to rebuild and restart the Hikkaduwa coir co-operation.
I came to love working with Dolly. She knew what she wanted and mostly got what she worked for. She worked hard to reclaim the business that had been destroyed and to represent her community. Her husband was a baker and her manual laborer. Together (with Chris Mulryn and others) we were able to get the men and women of the co-op back in business.
I have had the privilege of visiting Dolly three times since then and each time I have seen the development of their business and their property. So, it was wonderful to drive down a brand new concrete lane way to Dolly's place, to see Dolly open the gate and her face light up as she recognized who was driving the vehicle. It was especially good to be able to introduce Sandy and Alexis to the lady they had heard so much about.
But it was sad to hear that only a month ago Dolly's husband had died. Only 60 years old, he had battled cancer for the last 6 years during which they had worked hard to fulfill his dream of completing the building of a bakers oven. Today it remains incomplete, a sad reminder of her husband's legacy.
As we visited a number of the people I worked with and they spoke of the difference that has been made in their lives, I was reminded of the privilege I have had. I get to be part of a lasting work that transforms the lives of people and reforms their societies. I get to make a difference in a way that I would never have imagined.
Some of you reading this made that difference possible: either because of the money you gave me to spend on your behalf, or because you took a chance on deploying me, or because you released me to go. So please know, eight years after a moment of utter terror, there are people here in Sri Lanka whose lives have been transformed by your involvement with them.
I came to love working with Dolly. She knew what she wanted and mostly got what she worked for. She worked hard to reclaim the business that had been destroyed and to represent her community. Her husband was a baker and her manual laborer. Together (with Chris Mulryn and others) we were able to get the men and women of the co-op back in business.
I have had the privilege of visiting Dolly three times since then and each time I have seen the development of their business and their property. So, it was wonderful to drive down a brand new concrete lane way to Dolly's place, to see Dolly open the gate and her face light up as she recognized who was driving the vehicle. It was especially good to be able to introduce Sandy and Alexis to the lady they had heard so much about.
But it was sad to hear that only a month ago Dolly's husband had died. Only 60 years old, he had battled cancer for the last 6 years during which they had worked hard to fulfill his dream of completing the building of a bakers oven. Today it remains incomplete, a sad reminder of her husband's legacy.
As we visited a number of the people I worked with and they spoke of the difference that has been made in their lives, I was reminded of the privilege I have had. I get to be part of a lasting work that transforms the lives of people and reforms their societies. I get to make a difference in a way that I would never have imagined.
Some of you reading this made that difference possible: either because of the money you gave me to spend on your behalf, or because you took a chance on deploying me, or because you released me to go. So please know, eight years after a moment of utter terror, there are people here in Sri Lanka whose lives have been transformed by your involvement with them.
