There are moments of knowing.  Tonight I had one – that tingly sensation when it’s as if the universe is shouting wordlessly to tell you some massive secret.

I cry in these moments.  I am now.

I don’t know how to describe this feeling, but it is bliss.

I am not sure exactly what the universe is trying to say.  I take that back.  I do know. Precisely.

It’s saying it knows I’m weary.
It’s saying it knows this is hard.
It’s saying, knowing it doesn’t have to, “don’t give up.” (I couldn’t if I tried.)
It’s promising help is on the horizon.

It’s saying, “what more do you want, little girl?
What more do you need?
What more do you hope for?
It’s yours.”

It’s saying “You’re going the right way.
Don’t turn back.
Keep going.
I know you’re scared.
I know some may doubt you.
I know you doubt yourself more than they possibly could.”

The universe is whispering, in it’s most comforting, reassuring possible voice:

“Good will come.  I promise.
Stop pushing so hard.  Let it be.”

And tonight I believe.  Profoundly.

Because the universe has proven time and time again – every time I look into the face of another human and see love or yearning or light or trust or faith or hope – that good is the only possible outcome when a human heart loves so deeply, hopes so audaciously and works so hard.

I recently found out my friend Jen Lemen won $50,000 in the Name Your Dream Assignment contest to cross the globe and photograph hope.

She’s proof that good wins.

In case you had any doubt.

Photo above by Franco Folini – a similar photo is referenced in the video describing Jen’s original contest entry.

Posted: April 30th, 2009 under The Foundry.
Comments: 2

At the invitation of Campaign Consultation, I had the honor this week of collaborating with DonorsChoose to present an e-seminar on small gifts & micro-loans for an audience of national service volunteers (e.g., Americorps VISTA, etc.)  DonorsChoose is one of my favorite philanthropic models, and it’s been very successful, so to say I was excited to have been offered this opportunity would be an understatement. Slides from the presentation are below; Epic Change content begins on slide 16.

h/t to Beth Kanter as her brilliant presentation “Giving Good Poke” provided so many of the insights incorporated into this deck.

As we moved through the materials, I couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that the vast majority of micro-funded initiatives (i.e., projects funded through small donations) seem to focus on micro-investment as well (i.e., small grants or small loans, usually under $1K); normally, too, implementation (and repayment, as applicable) are short-term.  Obviously, this type of investment at scale can offer substantive results; DonorsChoose & Kiva are great examples. The approach also appeals to donors who can feel as though they’ve made a substantive impact, and can have nearly instant feedback about that impact.

I read this quote in an article in TIME magazine about 2 years ago:

Unfortunately with so much money flowing into microfinance, many donors have lost patience with investing in long-term development infrastructure. [Northeastern University law professor & microfinance expert Rashmi] Dyal-Chand estimates that at least half of development aid has been diverted to microlending over the past two decades. “There’s nothing sexy about hospitals, schools, roads, sanitation projects,” she says. “But those are all the things the truly poor desperately need.”

At Epic Change, we believe micro-giving can fund to these important types of projects.  Instead of using small gifts to make small investments, we’re aggregating small contributions (over 80% of our nearly 1,000 donors have given $40 or less) to make larger investments we call “mezzo-loans”; to date, we’ve loaned over $65,000 to a single borrower over a period of about 18 months.  For many like Mama Lucy, a micro-loan (normally under $1,000) is simply insufficient to make substantive progress toward her vision…and building a school, and raising necessary funds, takes time. So, to sustain donor patience, we’re experimenting with lessons learned from very successful micro-philanthropic initiatives. In particular:

• Discrete Milestones: While the entire school may cost $150K – $200K to build, and may take 3 years to complete, we’ve divided the project into smaller, shorter-term initiatives, like land, classrooms, solar power, technology lab, library, etc. – and we celebrate the accomplishment of each rather than postponing success until the end.
• Donor Engagement: Like KIVA, which provides updates from borrowers, and DonorsChoose, which provides thank-you notes from classrooms, we give consistent updates from the project site, engage donors with creative expressions of gratitude (like these Flickr photos, and the YouTube video and photo of Twitter handles painted on walls below), and offer opportunities for our donor community to engage directly with the school in Tanzania (e.g., Mama Lucy’s blog entries, song dedications, YouTube videos, etc.)

A few questions:

1. Are there other ways to sustain donor patience so that capital projects like schools, clinics, hospice facilities, orphanages and other larger-scale initiatives can be funded through “micro-collaborative” efforts?
2. Of course, extending donor patience is only half the equation; we’re also investigating ways to “speed up” the influx of small gifts so that we can deliver results more quickly – with crowdsourced events like TweetsGiving.  Do you have any ideas for inspiring small gifts?  How do you decide where to invest your microphilanthropic contributions?
3. At Epic Change, we admittedly originally adopted a P2P, micro-philanthropic approach out of necessity, but, in retrospect, I believe there may be significant benefits to funding projects in this way – what do you see as the benefits, challenges and, if relevant, potential pitfalls, of funding larger projects (say, $25K – $250K) by aggregating small gifts/loans from microphilanthropists & micro-lenders?

Posted: April 24th, 2009 under The Foundry.
Comments: 2

This week – April 7th to be precise – marked the sixth anniversary of my brother’s death.  In some moments, it’s a painful wound that still feels seconds old.  In others, and especially in the most beautiful moments of all, I still feel him everywhere – like yesterday when I spent the day at the beach with his daughter, Zoe, who’s now unbelievably 10 years old, and this morning, as I hunted Easter eggs with my 3-year-old nephew, Elliot.  I wrote these words about Josh last year, and I’m posting them again both in recognition of this sixth sad anniversary, and because I thought someone out there just might need to hear his story…

My little brother Josh had called me at work. I’d told him I’d call back and didn’t which, in retrospect, makes me the worst big sister of all time.

Joshua died a few days later and, as I cleaned out his apartment, I found a thank-you card that would have been sent to me, if I’d bothered to call back with my address. I know his drug overdose was not my fault, but I still wonder if I could have made a difference.

Yesterday, April 7th, marked the fifth anniversary of Joshua’s death, and the unwitting genesis of the hopeful seed that would become Epic Change.

If I let myself, which I rarely do, I can remember the morning of his death with vivid precision. I remember taking photographs in my brain, a vain effort to preserve my life as it was, knowing that it would never be the same. One of those photos was taken as we flew over the the Rocky mountains in Colorado. As we did, I realized my brother had probably never seen them.

I thought how tragic it was that he was looking for happiness from a substance when there’s so much beauty to be found in this world. It probably sounds all Pollyanna now, but I actually was so furious at the time that I used the f-word from the altar during my eulogy at his funeral, much to my own shock and the chagrin of the priest who was saying his funeral mass. I was just so mad at him for missing out on all the incredible beauty that life has to offer.

I think I travel so much now because I want to take him to all those amazing places that he missed. People often ask me why I went to Africa. I think I went to take Josh.

Or, perhaps, he was taking me.

In either case, Joshua somehow led me to Mama Lucy. I am eternally grateful, and I’m hoping that my work with Epic Change can pay some small tribute his memory. I wish I could tell you more about him, but the grief regulator in my head kicks in after a few minutes, and I can only go so far. If I did, I would tell you he was 6′7, a giant with an even bigger heart. He made me feel safe, protected and more beautiful than anyone else ever has. He was an incredible Daddy his little girl, Zoe, who’s now 9 years old and whose name, surely not coincidentally, means “life.” He loved music, and imparted his love to her; they share a favorite song that he used to play for her as she fell asleep, Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s version of Somewhere over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World.

At Josh’s wake, my family saw two rainbows in the sky and, while I don’t remember ever having encountered that phenomenon before, I now notice it all the time, and almost wherever I travel. This photo is from my visit to Victoria Falls.

These rainbows serve as constant reminders of the promise that lies behind even the darkest corners, and of the beginnings that lie at every end – if we just keep going.

---

PS: The random song generator in my brain continues. I’m pretty sure it’s the symptom of an illness I’m fighting. As I wrote that last line, I was reminded of a performance by Up with People that I saw when I was probably in elementary school. We lived in a VERY small town at the time called Waynesboro in Pennsylvania, and we hosted a few of the performers at my house; I remember a photo of me and my brother with them. He was probably a kindergartner at the time, the year he sang We are the World in our school’s talent show. Anyway, at the Up With People performance in Waynesboro, they sang a song called a Let the River Flow and, despite it’s total cheesliciousness, it’s a really pretty song. The lyrics go something like:

It’s the power to keep going, the power to to turn around;
It’s the power to keep growing, to see the light in the darkest night;
Let the river flow.

Unbelievably, I found the song on YouTube here, and even a performance from Waynesboro here. Note the incredible sound and video quality, and check out the dramatic crescendo at the end :)

The universe is a very strange and wonderful place.

Posted: April 12th, 2009 under The Foundry.
Comments: 1