Dear friends,
I hesitate to share the story below, but the message in it for you, dear lovers of Refuge, is clear: Even the most “bare minimum” giving can do something more maximum than you can imagine. Read on…
Years ago, Bill and I were invited to a fundraiser for a friend’s organization that worked with children in Rwanda. That night, we decided to sign up to sponsor a child. At that time in our lives, this decision stretched us financially. So, not wanting to forget or let the commitment slide because of circumstances, we automated it. And promptly forgot about it. I looked it up, that first gift was $39/month.
Every so often, we got handwritten letters from the young man we sponsored, Izabayo. And then, as the world got more digital, we’d get email updates and, less often, we’d send personal notes. To be perfectly honest, life was very full, and we were doing well to simply give every month.
We were bare-minimum sponsors.
After years of this, we were notified that Izabayo had been accepted into college and needed our support even more, three times more! Again, we thought and prayed about it, said yes to the increased rate, and forgot about it. And again we did the bare minimum.
I don’t confess this because I think it’s shameful. No one in the organization guilt-tripped us, especially not Izabayo! I just want you to know the truth. We simply made a decision to give monthly and stuck with it. When a card expired, they let us know, and we fixed things in a—I hope!—timely manner.
Last summer, Izabayo graduated, and our monthly commitment ended. In December, I noticed that a young man from Rwanda commented on a few of my social media posts. As many of you may know, I’m not the most attentive on the socials, so I noticed but assumed it was someone I knew second-hand. One day it hit me. This was “our” Izabayo (or maybe we were “his” Bill and Kitti!).
After apologizing for not knowing who he was, we began an ongoing WhatsApp conversation. He got an IT job out of college and pursued a side hobby as a comedian. He told me he’s interested in starting his own business and is connecting with mentors. He asks wise questions. I’m not sure if we’ll ever meet, but I hope so.
Last month, Izabayo wrote a poem in response to a photo I posted of Bill with my own poem. With his permission, I share it here:
He stood like dusk behind my days.
A quiet light that shaped my ways.
Through books and tests, he stayed so near,
A silent strength, a steady cheer.
Yet now he’s gone—I search the air
For all the words we didn’t share.
I knew his help, his constant care.
But not the soul who placed him there.
Forgive me, friend, I never knew
The man whose love so deeply grew.
I carry now, with gentle pain,
A debt of thanks, a trace of rain.
~ Izabayo Janvier
I imagine you’re as awed as I am by this articulate, caring message. It feels as if Izabayo knew Bill’s heart, and maybe he did.
I had not planned on making a pitch for our Cortado Club until next year, but I just couldn’t pass up the obvious connection between this story and how important monthly givers are to our mission at Refuge, even if many would describe their gifts as “the bare minimum.” And I wanted you to know that regular gifts of any size can achieve more than you’d think!
With maximum thanks,
Kitti
