Bringing Christmas Joy to Kids in the Philippines

Christmas is getting an early mention today on my blog - which is something I usually try to avoid, but in this case I'll make an exception.
This year I am excited to be partnering with the amazing team at Children's Garden in Manila to help bring Christmas to kids who usually wouldn't get one.
My part in this venture started back when we were in Manila in August, and I was chatting to the wonderful Sharon (CG director) about ways I could help. Because the kids in Manila got under my skin, bigtime.

Seeing as I do love Christmas (in theory) I asked her how it is celebrated in the Philippines and she told me that each child has a Ninang (godmother) and Ninong (godfather) who gives them gifts on Christmas. I asked, do the kids at CG have a Ninang/Ninong?

No. They have never had one.

[ CONTINUE READING.......]

Children's Garden in My Heart (Philippines Odyssey)

The first thing you notice about Manila is the heat. You walk out of the air-conditioned airport and wham, there you are in a sauna. Never mind that it's night time - the tropical air has sweat dripping off the end of your nose in minutes.

The next thing you notice is the traffic. There is no other traffic anywhere in the world like Manila traffic. Trust me on this. You think you have traffic where you live? Nope, you don't.

In Manila, you sit in traffic for an hour and lean across to your hubby and ask, are we nearly there? And he points to the Terminal Three building out your window, and says, haha, nope, we haven't left the airport yet.

[ CONTINUE READING.......]

He Rode all the Way

Riding 180km on a bike, to raise money for an orphanage in Manila was the goal.
Saturday just gone was the appointed day.
My husband Rory was the man.

At 5am on Saturday morning, after two hours sleep, laying awake tossing and turning and worrying about Jim's weather predictions (rain... wind...) my poor hubby dragged his weary bones out of bed and and set off in the dark with a wonderful bunch of cycle nuts who were along for some moral support...

I can't tell you how relieved I was that he didn't have to bike all that way on his own. Especially after bugger-all sleep.

We'd made a plan that I was to meet him at just past the half way point, carrying supplies of food and water to the weary cyclists. (When the kids grumbled about spending most of their Saturday in the car, I said, "Think of the orphans and quit your whining!" and "Think of poor daddy riding all this way ON A BIKE! be glad you're in the car!")

The blokes on their bikes turned up about ten minutes after we made it to the meeting point, and I have to say I was a bit worried. Poor Rory looked like he was on his last gasp. I didn't know how he'd manage to make it the rest of the way.

A five minute sit-doon and some kai made all the difference. He looked a little perkier by the time I snapped the team's "half way" photo... (did I mention how grateful I was that Rory wasn't doing this on his own?)

Then it was back on their bikes and I drove ahead to Thames, snapping a few action shots while I was at it...

The rain was starting - just a light spit, but nothing to worry about. There was no sign of the downpour and gales that Jim had predicted. After ten minutes the drizzle let up... and that was it. No more rain fell while the guys were rising. Amazing. (meanwhile the rain never STOPPED in Auckland).

One more meetup in Thames, where a local Pastor met the lads with coffee and muffins and they topped up their water bottles. I was reassured to see Rory looking so much better, with only 55km to go (or so we thought).

Goodbye! we waved. Good luck! Ride carefully! Next time we saw them it would be all over. They were biking to Coromandel township, then catching the ferry back to Auckland. 180km up-hill-and-down-dale on a bike.

Only it wasn't 180km. It was 193km as you can see...

But in spite of no sleep, bad weather predictions and a massive puncture at the bottom of the final hill, my legendary hubby limped over the finish line, with that awesome bunch of mad cyclists out for a fun day's ride, all in a very worthy cause.

[They did it! At the other end waiting for the ferry home]

So far we have raised nearly $4000! I've been really humbled by the number of blog readers who have sponsored my hubby - THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH.

[Rory txting me to tell me he'd done it; photo snapped by our neighbour Andy, a total cycle nut]

In Rory's words, when he'd completed the ride: "Feeling pretty emotional after my biggest cycle ever, just under 200km - but hugely rewarding - touched by everyone's 'buy in'/generosity - pretty much $4k donated - awesome."

If you still want to donate, it's not too late - we've still got $1000 to go to reach our target before Rory leaves with the team to build the orphanage on November 3rd.

Donate to Rory's Orphanage Cycle Fundraiser

(Plus Rory is matching all donations dollar-for-dollar - so at the moment with $4000 raised, the orphanage will be getting $8000; if we reach our goal, the orphanage will get $10,000)

He's Riding His Bike to Build an Orphanage

My Rory husband is currently training to ride his bike 180km from Auckland to the Coromandel, to raise money to build a home for orphans in Manila.

Just this morning he rode 103km, a practise ride before breakfast. I don't know how he does it, out in all weathers. Wind and rain. Biking for hours.

[Rory is training hard - just today he rode 103km on a training ride]

I'm doing my bit to get behind him, by helping spread the word - hence this blog post, and the fundraising page on Give-a-little I have set up for him.

He has a goal of $5000, of which he currently has raised around $1300.
But wait there's more.

He has decided to put his own money where his mouth is as well, and is pledging to match every donation dollar-for-dollar up to his goal amount. Meaning that if we can get the $5000, we'll actually be handing over $10,000.
Meaning that if you give $20 from your pocket, the orphanage build will receive $40.

Rory is doing his cycle in less than two weeks, setting out on his bike, risking his rear end, to ride all the way to the Coromandel from our home. 180km. Can you imagine riding a bike that far? (Can you imagine how much your butt would hurt afterwards?)

[The furthest Rory has ever ridden is 160km, around Lake Taupo]

Then on the 3rd of November Rory is heading off to Manila with a team of builders to actually physically help build the orphanage. We'll miss our wedding anniversary, he'll miss Miss Fab's national cheerleading comps.

But these are teensy sacrifices to make.
As our daughter said when her daddy told her he'd miss her competition, "Dad, it's fine. I mean, if you were missing it just because you were working or busy I'd be mad, but you're going to help little kids who don't have a family so, nup, don't say another word. I don't mind."

[Photos by Meg Cowan]

One day we want to take the kids on one of those trips. Show them how the rest of the world lives; kids don't have what they (we) take so for granted. Help their hearts crack wide open.



In the meantime their dad is setting them a great example, pushing himself physically and mentally to help make a difference.

Here's a video of the work that is already being done by The Children's Garden in Manila, the group that Rory is helping fundraise for. They will be able to do so much more when they have a real home for the children they are helping. This is the video Rory watched which moved him to tears, and motivated him to get involved personally....

 

It would be so awesome, after reading this and watching the video, if you could give a little. Help spur Rory on his epic ride. Help get the little orphan kids a home.

Thanks, my dear readers. You rock.

Support Rory's Orphanage Cycle

Three Cheers for My Girl

I finally figured it out the other day: Life, parenting the whole shebang.

For years I’ve been frantically trying to get my ducks all in a row, hoping to arrive at the place where I know what I’m doing and everyone/everything is on track.

Duh. It’s taken me this long to realise that will never happen.

This side of heaven, we never “arrive”. There is no plateau where all is right and we can finally relax.

There’s just this neverending journey. A marathon run, where we are always learning and figuring stuff out. There’s always something you’re dealing with so you just have to relax into it, stop fighting it and savour the little moments, the small victories.

Which is a very deep way to say, "Yay, we finally made it to Cheerleading!"

No more broken arms or crutches to stop us, and this girl who has been waiting all term to be unleashed has finally made it to training.

She’s been practising, dreaming and cartwheeling everywhere. She’s been finding other girls who love to whirl and tumble, meeting up at lunchtime, constructing routines.

Which is all very well, but there’s nothing quite like the real thing.

Where you have a Coach, a team and a competition goal.

Miss Fab and her pal Yaz have been let loose in the Galaxy Shooting Stars, so Watch Out World.

Actually it’s not just Cheerleading I wanted to say “Yay Miss Fab” for.

I want this post to be a three cheers for my Girl in lots of ways.

Parenting is hard, but being a kid is hard too.

I have been admiring my girl and the way she perseveres.

She is gritty and gutsy; she has a work ethic that is all her own.

My girl is the middle child and the only daughter; sometimes she really feels it. Many are the times when she wishes she had a sister, as she drips wounded tears over her rough insensitive brothers.

She is quick to compare and keeps a mental tally of time spent (by me) with them vs time spent with her.

She is deeply affectionate, tactile and huggy.

My daughter has boundless energy… until she doesn’t. (She whirls and tumbles through life, collecting casts and crutches, until she collapses in a heap.)

My girl has a huge heart. HUGE.

I’ve never seen the like. Her kindness and fierceness are awe inspiring. Bullies and meanies better watch it around her.

At school she has a flock of little admirers, younger girls who adore her; I've seen them swoop down on her, calling her name and hugging her. (Probably because she is so kind, so loving and so much FUN.)

And that big heart I mentioned? It bleeds for those who are hurting.

So when the lady from World Vision came to school and spoke about the kids in Malawi who are starving, my daughter came home and begged me to sign her up for the 40 Hour Famine next week.

“Mum, I just have to do something to help them,” she said.

So next weekend, my girl will go without food for twenty hours (half the usual 40 since she’s only nine) in an effort to raise money for kids who have nothing.

Will you sponsor her?

It’s all online. You can sponsor her from anywhere in the world, and every little bit helps.

I want to encourage her that her big-heartedness can make a difference – will you help me?

Go here to sponsor her

Go here to sign up and join her in doing the Famine

Thanks my friends!

Introducing My Talented & Beautiful Niece, Jasmine

It would seem that we only produce geniuses in our family. Remember my dancer nephew Joel? He's now off in San Francisco at the Lines Ballet School, thanks in part to the support of you, my blog readers.

Now I want to introduce you to my gorgeous and clever niece, Jasmine and ask for your support again.
I hope you'll be suitably impressed with her talent, and place your vote for her at the AMP People's Choice Awards.

Jasmine is hoping to make it into University to study and be trained in design. Obviously study doesn't come cheap, and being the eldest of eight kids Jazz is going to need some outside help with tuition fees.

Sharing her genius here on my blog is one of the best ways I can offer this lovely girl my support.





Here's what Jazz has to say:

The reason I not only want, but need this scholarship, is because I am from a small town and the eldest child of eight children hoping to go off to Massey University in Wellington next year to pursue my dreams of becoming a world class internationally recognised designer.  

I'm hoping to use this scholarship to help me pay for my course at the College of Creative Arts. I am someone who hasn't had the money to buy expensive equipment and resources, so I have made the most of what I've had, and I know that if I was awarded a scholarship such as this, it would not go to waste.  

It would absolutely change my life forever and allow me to not only continue with my art, but to develop my skills further, have greater accessibility to resources I could not otherwise afford and  to step out into a bigger and better world.  

This is the link to my profile :)  

I do digital art, pencil drawings, oil paintings, water colour and acrylic paintings. I have done a few commissions involving digital portraits of people's children to help me set myself up for next year too. 

P.S . The AMP Peoples Choice Scholarship is a $10,000 scholarship awarded to the person who gets the most votes. The applicant writes up a profile to show off what their "thing" is and then everyone votes for the person they support or the person whose profile they like :)

Today I have crawled off my sick bed to switch on my computer and put this request out there: If you haven't already voted in the AMP People's Choice Awards, would you please click the link and vote for Jazz?
THANKYOU, in advance, kind sir, kind madam, for helping a young artist fulfill her potential and realise her dream.

VOTE FOR JASMINE

Here's just *some* of her work...

if you haven't already...

VOTE FOR JASMINE

(thankyou!)

♥

Billy Elliot, Eat Your Heart Out

This is my fabulous nephew, Joel Walsham.
Remember that name.
Joel. Walsham.

Talented dancer. Gorgeous nephew. Fantastic human being.
I feel privileged to say that I have known him from the beginning. Eighteen years ago I caught an overnight train to meet him when he was just a newborn. It was Joel who made me an aunty; my first nephew.

And now he's on his way.
Like, really ON HIS WAY.
As I said, Joel is a dancer. He started lessons when he was a tot, at the age when lots of kids both boys and girls go to preschool dance, urged on by their mummies.
But Joel was different. He might have only been three years old but he knew he wanted to be a dancer. To be in shows, to travel around the world performing, and then one day bring home the skills he learned on the world's stage and set up a dance school, here in NZ.
(I remember having this conversation with him when he was about 11 years old.)
For years Joel has worked his butt off, doing nothing but dance, dance, dance.
He had a plan, he had a dream.
And now he's living it. Nearly.

Joel won a scholarship to the United States to try out for three prestigious dance schools in New York and San Francisco.
While he was there he met up with Michael Jackson's ballet teacher, Irina Brecher Hamilton. She spotted his talent, gave him personal tuition and introduced him to upcoming ballet star Christina Ricucci. They danced together, became friends.

Within a week of returning to NZ, Joel heard back from Lines Ballet school in San Francisco. They wanted him. he was IN. Then he heard back from the other schools too - they all wanted him.
And why not? He's fantastic. And as Irina said, the last time she got this excited about a dancer, his name was Mikhail Baryshnikov.

So watch out world, here comes Joel.

As we know tuition at prestigious American dance schools doesn't come cheap.

My clever sister Kristen (who took these beautiful photos) has helped Joel put together a fundraising campaign, to help get Joel all the way to his dream.
She's an artist (among other cleverness), and has applied her skills to creating some amazing pieces of art and images for t-shirts and suchlike, as a *thankyou* to those who donate towards Joel's education.

As Joel's aunty I figure I can help by putting the word out there on my little blog.
So if you love the arts, and respect clever people; if you want to help a kiwi kid who has worked for his dream and now has a chance to put Kiwi Talent in the world's spotlight... well every little bit helps.
Ten bucks, twenty... whatever you can spare.

I'd love you to check out Joel's fundraising website and share it with your friends.

Then one day when Joel Walsham's name is up in lights, when you see him on TV being interviewed on 60 Minutes, you will be able to say: "I knew him before he was famous. I donated towards his education..." and your kids will go, "Joel Walsham? Really? WOW! that's so cool mum! You're awesome...!"
Or something like that.

And Joel will go, "Wow, you're so generous. You don't even know me but you helped me put New Zealand on the the Map for Ballet. Without people like you I never would have gotten there..."

(Joel is such a great person. I'm not just saying that cos I'm his proud aunty. Like, he is really really NICE. If you met him you would be SO impressed with him. He's going to be such a great role model and inspiration for young dancers all around New Zealand, if not the world. Cos he's gonna be famous, I just know it.)

Seriously. 
Billy Elliot has got nothing on Joel.

[Please help Joel fulfil his dream and take on the world]

[All photos taken by Kristen Walsham at Karekare Beach]

My Part in the Story (the Miracle of CLS)

This is the Story of how I was part of something Bigger Than Me. How I was part of the answer, how I took part in a Miracle. It's the story of a scaredy cat who pushed past her fears, took some risks and DID something. It cost me. But it was worth it.

Hold onto your hats, it's a long story but I hope you'll read it through... this is how a miracle came from nothing but a dream and a scared shy girl who dared to try...

Scene One: A darkened movie theatre, 1994. The movie is Once were Warriors, a New Zealand story about alcohol, brutality, abuse and tragic loss.

I watch it with tears streaming down my face. After it has finished I stand in the foyer, tears still streaming, oblivious to the crowds. Back at home, the tears keep coming. I am broken by this movie. It is real. I know it's real. Right now, tonight in my town, there are kids suffering this story. What can I do???

I get down on my knees and pray next to my couch, as the tears fall. "God I don't know how you could use me to help kids like that. I'm just a pakeha girl from a nice christian family; I have no training, no experience. Nothing that would make me the obvious choice - but if you can use me to reach kids like those, then please do it!"

With this fateful prayer the wheels for a miracle are set in motion...

 

Scene Two: The Mercury Theatre, 1995.
I am now the youth pastor. Sitting on the carpeted steps after a youth event, a young girl is pouring her heart out to me. Her story is one of brokenness and abuse. She is 12 years old. Then comes those words: "You know that movie, Once Were Warriors? That movie is my life."

Something inside me clicks. I know that my prayer has been heard, and this girl is part of the answer to it. I still don't know how I can help, but it seems God is bringing broken kids across my path, just like I prayed.

Scene Three: The Youth Van, late 1996.

Our youth group is now filled with kids from broken backgrounds. So many times I have heard the identifying phrase "My life is Once Were Warriors"...

I still don't really know how to help them. I go to conferences, read books, ask other youth pastors... but mostly I just try to be there. Occasionally I have kids turn up on my doorstep, needing a safe place to stay. Often I cry at night and pray for answers: how can I help them??

It seems that midweek home groups, Saturday activities, Sunday church and the occasional camp is just not enough. They keep coming anyway. Nothing seems to change in their lives but they are always there, hanging out the front smoking and sometimes I wonder why??? Why do they come???

"Because its a safe place," one girl tells me.
In the van dropping some kids off home after youth group, I ask her, "How was school this week?"

"Dunno," she says, "I didn't go." Alarm bells go off. This kid has had the same answer for weeks... does she ever go to school???

"Why should I?" is her reply. "I already know I'm dumb. My mum tells me, my grandma tells me, my uncles tell me... why bother going to school just to prove what I already know?"

How do you reply to that??? She is 14 years old and never goes to school. What's more, she's not the only one.

She and her friends stay up late every night til the wee small hours. Tagging, clothes-lining (an alternative to shopping), drinking, sniffing paint. Where are their parents, you may well ask?

This girl's dad has never been around. Her mum had her young and has passed her on to various aunties and finally her invalid grandmother. Nobody cares what time she gets in. She has been to so many schools that the system has lost track of her. She never had a chance to learn to read and write properly so she truly believes she is dumb. She has been sexually abused by the boyfriends of various relatives during drunken parties. How do you help a kid like that????

Scene Four: The Church Offices, the following week.

I am sitting at Reception pouring my heart out to my good friend Val, who is this girl's homegroup leader.

We have phoned up every place we can think of to try and find an alternative for this girl to get back into education. She's too young for all the options we found. She will not return to regular high school because she just can't cope there - she's reading at a six-year-old level.

What do we do??? we wonder.
Then those fateful words...

"Wouldn't it be great if we could start something?" 

Something for kids who can't cope in school, who need extra help in a place where they know they are loved? We could have really great tutors, who they can relate to; they could learn in small groups so they wouldn't get lost in the crowd... we could pick them up and drop them off each day to make sure they get there... we could give them breakfast and lunch to make sure they aren't hungry and can learn... it could be creative! We could help them discover what they are good at, to build their confidence because they aren't dumb at all, they just got left behind...!

We are excited now, our words and ideas tumbling out... and it could have stayed just that. Words and ideas. A pleasant dream for the future... one day...

Except that we take our idea right then to one of our pastors. We knock on his door and spill out our dream. And he says: "Go for it!"

He says, "Write down your ideas and come back to me tomorrow!"
He says, "What will you call it???"

And I blurt out the first name that pops into my head: "Creative Learning Scheme... CLS!" It just seemed to fit.

Scene Five: My flat, late at night.

The ideas just keep coming. I am writing down everything I can think of that we already have: People who could tutor subjects, drive vans, cook lunches... Resources we already have... a youth group van, an amazing theatre, a whole church family.

I figure we can cope with two days a week to begin with. We will get the kids writing a play. They will use maths skills to build sets and work out budgets. They will do lifeskills units about alcohol and drugs and sex (all the usual teenage stuff); some will get to act, some will learn lighting and sound... they will gain confidence, and at the end we will perform our play at church and it will all be wonderful...

No budget. No professionals. No full-time staff. Just use what we have...



Scene Six: Church Offices, late 1997.

Our first CLS course is over. Was it a success? I felt, no. We'd had lots of interest, plenty of kids turning up. We'd had some good moments. And the kids had mostly stuck it out and attended regularly. The outdoor education camp was great, getting these urban kids outdoors... But several "expert" youth workers I have co-opted in to help have told me CLS "is set up to fail." Oooh that stings. One of them even told me these kids are beyond help...!!

Did we perform the play? No. The kids balked at the final hurdle, lacking confidence to actually succeed at something, even though all it needed was a final push. Did the kids enjoy CLS? Oh yes, and they want to come back next year. And bring their cousins and their neighbours and their friends who are also hanging around the streets doing nothing, going nowhere, getting up to mischief.

But not me. I don't want another year of this. I'm done. I feel like it failed. It didn't go like I'd planned. I want out. I even told our senior pastor that morning, "I don't think I'll run CLS next year. I don't think it's for me..."

I go back to my desk... and the phone starts to ring. Off the hook. Totally random people I had approached about CLS but hadn't heard from in months...

"Hi, I was just wondering how that programme for the kids is going....CLS? I wanted to encourage you what a great project it is! We really need things like that in our community!" After about the fourth phone call I knew this was no coincidence. Somebody wanted CLS to carry on.

So I made Him a deal. "OK, God, I'll keep it going. But I want you to know that I feel like this is way beyond my expertise. I don't think I'm the right person for the job. But I'll set it up and keep it going until the right person comes along...OK?"

Later that week I am sitting in a youth meeting. The guy preaching turns to me and says, "I feel like God is wanting me to tell you, Who told you you weren't the right person? Who said you're not good enough? Not Him. Keep going!"

Eek. OK, God, You win.

Scene Seven: The Pavement Outside the Mercury, at the end of The Day from Hell, Mid 1998.

I am wrestling with one of my students - the girl who inspired me to start it all. She has a bag of paint for sniffing that I am trying to get off her... "Don't Simone, leave me! I don't want to hurt you!" she cries.

"Don't do this, Missy, give me the bag!" I sob. Silver paint splatters all over me. I am beyond caring.

The day started with a fight between students after we discovered drugs on one of them.

We've had to get tough on drugs. We'd tried the "we love you and won't give up on you no matter what" approach, so the kids have been taking advantage of our softy-softy ways and are basically abusing our kindness. So we've drawn a line in the sand: bring drugs and you're out.

Another student filled with righteous indignation attacks the drug-bringer. We take the drug-bringer home. But then a tutor discovers the kid who had been so righteously indignant at the drug-bringer sniffing paint with his mate in the girls toilets (they thought we wouldn't look there). They happened to be Missy's boyfriend and cousin. And they thought that paint didn't count as drugs.

It hurts me to tell them, sorry you're out, but we have laid down the rule! It won't mean anything if we don't stick to it.

After they leave things seem to settle down, so I take another student off to her anger-management counselling... but in the middle of her session I receive a phone call. "You'd better come back! Missy has locked herself in the toilet with a knife and she's threatening to kill herself!"

By the time I arrive she is outside sniffing. "If you kick them out, you'll have to kick me out to!" is her logic.

Then follows the wrestling... I get the paint off her and we retreat to our corners, each of us crying. This was not what I had in mind when I started this project! Our driver takes the other students home early, while I regroup with a couple of our volunteers.

I answer a knock on my office door and come face-to-face with a policeman. Oh yes. Just to top it all off one of the naughty little sniffers has decided that since he's missed the van ride home he'll break into the neighbour's car and find his own transport. She calls the cops, they arrive within minutes and collar him... I end my hideous day down at the Station standing in for his caregiver while the cops take his statement...

This is so far from the dream...

Scene Eight: Mid-1999. At CLS.

We survived the day from hell. We regrouped, prayed hard-out, got some better ideas, changed things up and continued on.

CLS is getting a name with Govenment agencies as a good place to bring hard-cases. I have secured funding from the Ministry of Education - enough to run one full centre with 12 students. But we stretch the money and have expanded to two centres, with a total of 24 students between them, one in South Auckland, one in the City.

I now have full-time staff - amazing dedicated people, who it is a joy to work with. We have two vans. We have experience behind us. We are seeing some success. Kids are leaving us going on to jobs or training courses.




Even kids we had to "kick out" have turned up later to apologise and tell us how we'd helped them. In the mornings heads bend over books, each student working at their own level on Correspondence English and Maths books. After a home-cooked lunch, there is sports, music, dance, art, drama... different options each term. The kids like coming and attend regularly (a miracle in itself). We are seeing changes in their attitudes and confidence.

At the end of each term the kids who've worked hard are rewarded with a Trip away - whitewater rafting, a trip to the snow, ice-skating, a Ball. There's even a Marae trip for the whole group to Rotorua: hot pools, go karts, a concert...



Quiet kids, who wouldn't look you in the eye when they arrived have started to shine. Their parents come to see them get their certificates at end-of-term prizegiving and can't believe that their "naughty kid" is "being good". It opens up their eyes; helps the way they see their kids.

Of course there are still struggles and disappointments. But this is much more like what I'd dreamed.




Final Scene: January 2000, Somewhere in South Auckland.

I run crying from the building. It's my last day. A young boy comes out and pats me on the back, "Don't cry Miss, we're gonna be OK..."

I know it's time for me to leave. I'm not sad. There's other things going on. The strain of the last three years has taken its toll, but I don't know it yet.

But as I leave CLS is in good heart. We have four centres, with eight amazing full time staff and funding in place for all of them. We have a good reputation; our students are making progress, CLS is making a difference. I've done what I can do. It's up to others now. Others with different skills can take it on to where I never could.




Twelve Years On...

CLS keeps going from strength to strength. It's now the largest alternative education programme in the country, with more than 50 full-time staff. Now our church also runs Youth Training courses for older teenagers, so when students graduate CLS, these courses follow on and help place them in employment.

CLS has the government contract for providing the Education programmes in Auckland's youth prison.

The CLS director (a great guy) meets often with MPs and Ministers; he rubs shoulders with the movers and shakers in government because people are amazed at what CLS is achieving.

The outstanding thing about CLS is that it has remained right at the heart of our church. Most of the amazingly dedicated staff are part of the church. The church welcomes the kids in and embraces them. They feel right at home.

Hundreds of teenagers' lives have been turned around. Many of them have found Jesus; He is the one who has healed their hurts and brokenness. A mere programme can't do that, no matter how clever it is. Many of these kids are now living lives and succeeding in ways that they would never have dreamed. 

(Click here for the CLS website)

So watch out. If you say, "Use me, God!" He will take you at your word... 

Be careful what you pray for...