When I decided to “give up the good life” for a life of giving, I was painfully aware of the effects that it might have on my children. We thought long and hard about how much our children might have to do without.

I know I’ve been called selfish by people who believe that a parent’s highest priority should be to ensure that their children have the best of everything. The generation that needs their children to “never have to go without like they did”. I know I’ve also been called selfish for going to Indonesia for 3 weeks and leaving my children at home and that I shouldn’t be gallivanting around the globe with my children at such a tender age. 

For the most part, I’m not overly interested in other people’s judgments of me in this regard. They don’t know me, they don’t know my family. People who know me well know that I am my children. Without my children I am an empty shell and my children have always been, and will always be, the most important thing in my world. 

I pondered over the last week that the intention of this blog was to document the process of starting an orphanage and show everything that happened in my life from the actual initial first thought – right through to project realisation. By my own definition this blog is now defunct. I have proved that ordinary people can do extraordinary things. The process wasn’t as smooth or as pretty as I had hoped and given the benefit of hindsight I wonder whether I would have been quite so eager to invite you all in. 

I have publically humiliated and embarrassed myself on these pages a number of times over the last year. I’ve bared my soul for all to see at some of the worst times of my life. I have been aware that in doing so my children may have become “victims” – subject to bullying at school because their mother was publically homeless and ranting about injustice like a mad woman. 

It’s fair to say that I thought A LOT about all the bad that could come from what I was doing. Anyone that assumes otherwise doesn’t know me at all. 

What I didn’t consider so much, was what good could come.

When my 14 year old son commented on my blog and told me he was proud and then invited all his friends to do the same – and they did – was one of the most fabulous moments of my life. Last night was another. 

My 13 year old son, Bailey, is special. He came into this world with a hell of a beginning and there have been times in my life where I didn’t think I could continue to raise him. We never imagined that Bailey would be able stay in a mainstream school. And, in fact, there were times where Bailey’s behaviour was so disturbing that I feared for my own life and those of his siblings. 

One of the many reasons that we fought so hard to stay near our children’s chosen schools were the specialist programs they offered our children, and while we have moved our younger children to a closer school we still make the 1 hour commute each day to take our high school kids to this fantastic school. Bailey is in an academic excellence group. His group specialises in performing arts. 

Last night his group presented a special performance and we made the hour long trip to watch him perform. It was an artistic and creative performance full of interpretive dance & movement and each child in the group delivered a monologue. They were challenged to present what made them who they are – what made them creative. 

One after the next the children came forth and congratulated their parents on sharing their love of cooking, fashion, music and art with them, some had travelled foreign places, another struggled with arthritis.  

This is the only photo I have, taken in the dark on my phone. It kinda adds to the artsy-ness of the evening though

With Bailey’s permission, here is his monologue which he delivered to an auditorium of guests and all of his peers: 

I have Asperger’s Syndrome. I was kidnapped when I was a year old. I have little money and was recently homeless. At my first primary school no one accepted me as a normal person. These events have contributed to who I am today. These events have also made me more aware of the important things in the world like people without food, clothes and shelter. I am now involved with collecting money with my mum to help build an orphanage. All this making me a more loving and wise person with a big imagination. 

People have told me I’m inspirational. There is no way at 13 years of age that I would have ever had the courage to stand up in front of my peers and say these things without a sense of shame or embarrassment. I wouldn’t have been able to say them at all. 

So much thought was put into what our children might go without, and so much has been argued about what they have lost. No one really ever spent time focusing on what they might gain. 

I have never been more proud of my children and I am, just this once, allowing myself to be proud of me. I wish someone had given me that confidence when I was a child.

When I posted yesterday about all the things I’m “not” – one thing I didn’t mention is “well educated”. And in Australia my generation didn’t really need a good education perhaps as much as you do now. In Indonesia though, it’s a completely different story.

 First, thanks to everyone who made comments on the blog or via Twitter yesterday to support me through yesterday’s blog post. As I said, it wasn’t something that I wanted to share, but my frustration when I started this was the unknowns, and the purpose of this blog was to demystify the whole process, so I needed to get that out to be true to the intent of the blog. So… cheers.

I want to talk about the importance of education in Indonesia. Education is probably something we take for granted here in Australia. We tend to talk about our “right” to a good education, and to some extent to a “free” education – which I’m yet to actually find but I’ve heard this term used quite often.

At the start of this year my family was doing it very tough. We had been homeless, we had moved away from our children’s new school and we were on the end of living for an entire year without any income. Being homeless is, despite what you might imagine, incredibly expensive – especially when you have children and you’re trying to maintain a quality of life that they deserve.

We had faith in the “system” for some unknown reason, given it had already let us down, that when we were told our housing was “temporary” that it actually meant we would move again soon. Seven months later, we’ve accepted that we may live in this house indefinitely. Begrudgingly, for the sake of our younger children we’ve made the decision to move them from their school (again) and enroll them at the local public school. This means they will not have to spend 2.5 hours every day traveling to school, and that they can attend their school functions and socialise with children locally. Things that they’ve been missing out on while we lived in hope that more appropriate housing might become available.

At the start of this year we had to rely on the assistance of St Vinnies to help us with the cost of sending our children to school. As a proud family that has been financially independent and secure for over a decade, that was a very humbling experience which came soon after our first ever “welfare Christmas”. It’s soul-crushing to be unable to provide the very basics of human needs for your children. I can empathise with this absolutely first hand, because I’ve needed to accept assistance.

Rick and I are both exceptionally grateful both for the assistance that we received from Vinnies and for the fact that we are now both working and earning enough to support our family independently again. I think it’s important for me to point these things out to explain that I truly connect on an emotional level with those who cannot afford to send their children to school. We are incredibly fortunate in Australia to have these sorts of community organisations who can pick up where the government fails and assure that our kids get what they need.

Just as a side note, I really have an issue with the phrase “we have a birth right to education” – yes, we are born into or accepted as citizens of an incredibly abundant and fortunate country which prides itself in providing services such as education to our children. I think however, we spend too much time, as citizens of this country, focusing on what our “rights” are as opposed to what our “responsibilities” are. And I think the same can be said of humanity in general.

So, 3 of my children will start at a new school tomorrow. The cost to us by the time we buy uniforms and booklists will probably reach in excess of $1,000 but the local school is beautiful and they can catch a 5 minute bus, rather than spend all that time commuting.

When we think of Indonesia, we generally assume that most things are cheaper there than they are in Australia – and that’s completely true. Education, however, is comparatively more expensive than what you might assume.

The Indonesian system is broken down to 4 levels of schooling – Kindergarten, Elementary, Junior High, Senior High. The vast majority of kids in Bali, depending on their family’s status, might make it to Elementary school, some will go to Junior High, and very few will make it to Senior High.

The reason for this is that If you enroll at Elementary school you might pay, for example 1,200,000 ($150AU) rupiah to enroll – this covers your admin charges, building contribution, books, uniforms to get you started. Then you might on average be invoiced at a rate of 100,000 ($13) rupiah a month.  Many families find the initial enrolment fee – somehow! Anyway they can. But the ongoing monthly fees they can’t afford to pay.

For the most part the government school allows them to stay whether their fees are paid or not, up until it’s time to move to the next level of schooling. If their fees are not fully paid, they get no report from the school – no certificate which says they are eligible for the next school level. The only way to receive that certificate is to pay the outstanding fees. So if a family has had a child in school for 3 years, they haven’t kept up their monthly payments of 100,000 rupiah – they’re now looking at 3.5 million rupiah to finalise their debt, PLUS another 1.5 million rupiah to enroll in the next level of school.

Just to put this into context, the average monthly income for many of these families is around 1.5 million rupiah. We’ve met families of 4 living on 700,000 per month, and families of 4 living on less than 50,000 per month. A basic room to rent might cost 400,000 per month, food (healthy standards) would cost 10,000 per person per day. So you can see, there’s just no leeway for education. These parents desperately want their children to go to school. They know that the only way that their children will be able to make a better life for themselves is to get that education – but they need to survive.

The vast majority of these children will not get past elementary school because their education system will not allow it.

And this has caused a problem for Project 18 as well. We know now, that if we take these children in – in order for us to continue to provide them with the education they need – we will need to pay off their education debts.

This is also the reason many children end up in orphanages. It’s not because they don’t have parents, it’s just that their parents cannot afford to provide them with the basics. These parents know that if they give up their children to an orphanage they will get an education.

Can you imagine? What would I have done at the beginning of this year if the only way that MY children could go to school was for me to give them up?

What I want to do – what I’m PASSIONATE about doing – is making it possible for these children to go to school, without leaving their families. And that’s why I’ve set up the Facebook page – Project 18 Auctions for Education.

Our mission is to secure funds to sponsor children to attend school while remaining in their family home. This means we can provide an education and hope for a brighter future, without compromising their family, cultural and religious commitments.

I can’t save everyone. In fact, I can’t save anyone, on my own. We can however, focus on saving children ONE AT A TIME. On average, elementary school cost $200/year per child. Junior High school, on average will cost $300/year per child. Senior high school, $360/year per child.

I’m not asking anyone to donate $200 to educate a child. However, if you want to – I won’t say no either. What I’m asking is for people to join the Facebook group and participate in our monthly auctions. Indulge your shopping gene with us instead of elsewhere and know that every cent will go to educating these children.

If you’re a business, donate an item. A $50 retail value item may only cost you $25 to donate but it will convert to so much more when auctioned for a worthwhile cause. I’m trying to keep a theme to each auction. The July 20^th auction is all about babies, children, pregnancy. The August auction is all handmade stuff – and the handmade community is AWESOME!

Please join and invite all your friends, fans, followers and relatives to do the same. I’m hoping to crack 1,000 “likers” before the first auction so we have a chance to really raise some funds.

Oooh, and I almost forgot. Since we’re talking about education. Check out the promo video for Project 18’s youth initiative Planet You. Planet You is all about educating and empowering kids on environmental and social issues. Their range of videos is currently in production.

This is a post that I don’t really want to write. I don’t really want you to read. I write it only because I want the record to show the truth. I’m not really who you think I am…

I started writing this post yesterday, got 500 words in and then deleted it because it wasn’t positive and upbeat. It didn’t have a message, a call to action and it probably wouldn’t have spurred any need to support what it is that I do. What it fundamentally was was a whinge…and I don’t think I’m a whinger.

After yet another night of insomnia, resulting in a more tired and more grumpy Cate today, it would seem that attempting to post the same thing again would probably have the same result. I spent the morning thinking about this and decided that I would indeed write it again for the soul purpose of keeping it real. If people think less of me because of it, then so be it.

I would love to say that I have returned from Indonesia triumphant having achieved everything I set out to do, but that wouldn’t be the case. For the most part I am happy with the progress so far, but there are a lot of things that I’m not happy about. I can’t change anything that I’ve done or didn’t do, or go back and work harder, and I question whether that would have realistically even been possible.

I promised when I started this blog that this would be an open and honest account and at no time more than now have I ever wanted to put on a brave face and act like everything is rosy. And I should be happy. And that’s why it hurts so much that I’m not. I can’t pretend that everything is rosy, that I’m satisfied with my efforts and that I’m full of hope for the future. I can’t do it because it’s just not true.

People tell me regularly that I’m inspirational. I’ve had some huge compliments from people who think that what I’ve done is exceptional. I’ve had people make comparisons of me to iconic humanitarians whose shoes I wouldn’t even dare to attempt to fill.

I’ve read a lot about people who do this work and what drives them and I don’t know if I’m different to them, or if they just aren’t telling the truth but the only thing that drives me now is an overburdening weight of responsibility and fear.

Almost every waking moment of my life since returning from Indonesia has been filled with a longing to put my life back to where it was before I left. I don’t even know what happened or where it went wrong, all I know is that I’m not the same person and everyone seems to treat me differently now. People who used to speak to me daily before I left barely speak to me at all and while my already meager tolerance for first world problems has reduced even further. It hasn’t reduced my ability to make menial small talk and I’m more than willing to engage with anyone who speaks to me, but perhaps their perception of me now is that I have no time for small talk.

Maybe there’s a sense of completion in people’s minds. Like the work has been done and their contribution is no longer needed but the ability to sell raffle tickets, sponsorship… or anything else for that matter has dropped off. For me the urgency is more real than ever, the need is more personal than ever. I have sat with the tiny faces and talked. I know these children on a personal level. Before I went to Indonesia this was a story, now for me its reality. I can’t share my experiences with people any more than through the written word. It’s not enough for people to feel like they truly need to invest in these children. We’re complacent and uncaring. We accept that poverty is a fact of life and that third world countries will always be third world. There’s nothing we can do.

People don’t want to hear me complain, they don’t want to see my failings, they want to believe I’m something that I’m not. I see everything now that I’m not. I’m not a salesperson, a marketing or a PR specialist. I’m not confident, outgoing. I’m not a people person. I’m not comfortable asking for help. I don’t even really enjoy socialising. And more than anything, as was almost my greatest fear, I’m not tough enough to do this work. I am weak. I am vulnerable. I care too much.

I don’t see Indonesia any more – I see Kadek, Wayan, Raya, Nyoman and a dozen other children – my friends that need my help. Children and families that I’ve personally guaranteed assistance to, because I can’t walk away having seen their needs and do nothing. I just can’t.

I feel isolated. As isolated as I felt when I was homeless. I don’t feel like anyone really understands what I’m going through and as much as I can tell people there’s no way I can make anyone really “feel” it. And I am responsible for my own misery because this is what I chose to do.

I cry. I cry a lot. I cry because I left a 9 month old baby who I knew was severely malnourished on the streets with her mother and I came home to my house which I complain is not big enough. I snap at my children because they complain that it’s not their turn on the DS or that they can’t watch the DVD that they want to watch because they have to share. And my skin crawls the moment I hear them say “I’m starving”. I don’t know if that baby will still be alive when I return. If she’s not, then that’s my fault.

The smell of the horrible laundry powder on my clothes which still remains instantly takes me back to the endless mind games and con-artists, the corruption and the relentless attempts by everyone to extrapolate money.

I hate Indonesia, I hate their roads, their food, their weather and the only thing that outweighs my desire to make this entire thing go away is the desperate need to continue for the sake of the children.

And over everything else is the constant thought that this is the rest of my life. Every day, until the day I die I will be begging. “Shaking my bracelets” for the sake of these children. And for the most part, I will be ignored.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. So check out this picture of ten-year-old Nyoman.

Nyoman is one of my new friends from Munti. At the ripe age of 10 he is the family bread-winner and he wears the burden with a smile. He also recognises, however, the importance of what he’s expected to do.

In the picture you can see that his chosen customer has NO interest in him whatsoever, but he will hound her until she gets fed up and either gives him money or yells at him. On this occasion she was fortunate, Nyoman noticed me and let her be.

Seven nights a week these children can be found, often barefoot, walking the streets of Kuta selling leather plaited bracelets to tourists. The government has banned begging so they sell. Some of the children make their own bracelets, others buy them for 1,000 rupiah each.

If you ask the children how much the bracelets are, they will tell you 5,000 (60c) but in all reality they will take whatever you’re prepared to give. I watched many tourists throw 1,000 rupiah at them just to make them go away.

I spent almost every night that I was in Bali talking to these children. I fell in love with them. They are a painful example of child labour that is simply accepted as part of life in Bali. They are fully aware of the responsibility that they shoulder and support each other in the endeavors to make money, but the sheer numbers of them means that they also need to compete.

I wanted to see for myself where these children came from and find out why their parents would send them away. I paid a driver/interpreter to take me to the Munti Gunung region, so I could speak to the head of the village and find out exactly what’s going on out there.

A four hour drive through some of the most beautiful country-side I’ve ever seen we reached our destination and asked what could possibly be loosely translated as “take me to your leader”. And the funniest part was – they did.

We spent hours in conversations with a surprisingly young man, who we are told would have achieved his position as head of the village because of his superior intelligence. He explained the poverty in the region which was populated with 5,000 people. The lack of water meant that most traditional industries were impossible. I surveyed their archaic water collection system and marveled at the fact that someone had built them a well, but it broke within a week – no one had tried to fix it.

They were hospitable people who fed us up on Balinese coconuts and something that I tasted out of courtesy and nearly vomited. Our Balinese guide thought it was fantastic. I asked them what seems like an obvious question – for a Westerner. “Why don’t you move somewhere where there is more water?” They laughed at me. Apparently that was a ridiculous idea – it’s just not the done thing.

So I asked the next most obvious question “Why do you send these children away?” more laughter. “No one will feel sorry for the adults. The children can make more money”

And that’s just the way it is. The complexities of this region, their struggles, their traditional values, their religion, their systemic inability to “look outside the box” in any way are all far too much for me to try to fit into this blog post so I won’t pretend that there is nothing more to this than sheer ignorance and pigheadedness.

The fact of the matter is that these children will never go to school. They will sell bracelets to tourists until their cuteness wears off, the boys will probably return to the village or be promoted to selling something else, the girls will progress to working in massage parlours and/or eventually prostitution. That’s if they aren’t sold off to the child sex trade before they reach that age.

Are the adults of Munti Gunung lazy? Yes, I think some of them probably are. Do they know any better? No, I don’t think they do. Do they see anything wrong with sending their children away? No, they can’t – they don’t know any other way. Does that make it right? No… no freaking way.

Back on the streets of Kuta one night I came across a new girl, she called herself Sarah (but this is unlikely to be her name). She was 8. She was new to this game, her shoes had broken so she discarded them, her feet were bloodied and sore. She approached me limping with tears in her eyes and shook her hand of bracelets at me. I asked her name, age and where she was from. I sat in the gutter with her as we awkwardly exchanged details – her in poor English, me in even poorer Bahasa.

Within moments an older girl joined us, she spoke better English. She was clearly there to check this little girl was OK. I convinced them to come with me to see one of the local market stall holders I had befriended. I bought her a pretty pair of pink shoes with frangipani’s which matched the one in her hair. I told her to thank the shop keeper, who I know had given me an exceptional deal on the shoes and she bowed and said thank you.

“Have you eaten today?” I asked her, she looked at me puzzled. “Makanan?” (food) She shook her head. I took a packet of milk arrowroot biscuits from my bag which I carried everywhere and handed them to her. “You need to share them with your friends”

She smiled the widest smile and tears welled in her eyes. She again jut out her handful of bracelets at me “For you – my gift – which one you like?” I told her to keep the bracelets, she would need them to make money. She thanked me again and they disappeared into the darkness.

There’s a favourite song of mine that you will often see me quote. “I see the kids in the street with not enough to eat, who am I to be blind pretending not to see their need?”

Like Nyoman I have no choice now but to constantly shake my “bracelets” in the faces of everyone I meet. I know that 95% of the people I meet will ignore me, 3% will give me money just to shut me up and the other 2% will give because they genuinely care.

Honestly, I don’t care why you support Project 18, I only care that you do, because without a little help from my friends, I can’t help these children…and someone needs to help them.

Here’s a list of ways you can help today, NOW:

• Buy a raffle ticket – buy 5, 10, or 20 – the profits from a single ticket can feed a child for a day.
• Sponsor a child – for less than $1/day you can sponsor a child in our care
• Buy a sponsorship pack – a one time payment, starting at just $10
• Support our Facebook page Auctions for Education – join today (and invite all your friends) – donate an item for auction, or just bid, and help us raise funds to offer education sponsorship for children while remaining in their family environment
• TELL YOUR FRIENDS! Blog about us or become an ambassador.

When you think about it…who decides to just go and start an orphanage? It’s probably a good thing I didn’t get how crazy that was until I was sitting on the floor of a Balinese house listening to chickens, emersed in a flatpacked furniture nightmare – by myself – the day before I was about to come home. As the Little Einsteins would say “Mission Completion”. Am I satisfied? Not even close.

Before I start this post let me make three things incredibly clear:

1. I understand that just by getting on the plane and going to Indonesia and taking the time to visit all the ugly places that tourists just don’t go with the view to trying to make a difference means that I’ve already done more than most people will ever do. I’ve been told that a million times, and I get it…I really do.
2. In a perfect world this last trip would have been solely a fact-finding mission so I could go over there with the luxury of knowing that all I needed to do was learn. I wouldn’t have been pressured by keeping a budget in two currencies in my head, and trying to race against the clock to get things done. I would have come back with a clear picture, planned everything out and then gone back fully armed at a later date to get things done.

And…

3. I accept that I cannot save everyone, but that will not stop me from wanting to, or even trying to.

But with that said, it’s not a perfect world and I have neither the luxury of time or finances to do things the way they would be done in a perfect world, so I’m disappointed with the results, but accept that the plan was overly ambitious to start with.

The good news is that I did achieve the basics of what I set out to do, which was set up and orphanage :) We have a very lovely building in a quiet and safe location which has plenty of room and, in time can accommodate up to 16 children which is in excess of the goal of 10 which we originally set. The building also came in within our budget, so I’m very pleased with that.

Our orphanage is also almost completely furnished with a few things still being made for us when I left. Our children will be sleeping on brand new beds, with clean sheets and bedding. Each room will have 2 sets of double bunks – these are being handcrafted by Balinese workers and we’re very happy to be putting that money back into the community.

Study Room - More computers on the way!

The orphanage is also complete with a study room, currently with one desk and computer, thanks to TrendyKidz, and 2 more computers on the way. Our study room will also be stocked full of educational books in both English & Indonesian and will assist in ensuring the children in our care receive the best education possible.

We also have a loungeroom, which will be stocked with leisure activities. It currently has a TV, DVD and CD player, plus a few books and soft toys. I will be asking for your assistance to help me stock this better. Unfortunately I had to stick to the basics this visit for fear of over-spending, and I know that Project 18’s supporters will do their best to send soft toys etc over time.

Kitchen - Bigger table being made soon!

Our kitchen has the basics of Balinese life. It is simple but does have a fridge/freezer which is a luxury most Indonesians live without. It also has a table for meal times – most children don’t experience family meal times or learn table manners for the basic fact that there is no space in their home for a table. While this seems like a mundane thing to get excited about, I can tell you that one of our job applicants actually listed on her CV where she learned table manners – so it’s a big deal!

That actually brings me to another thing I realised about Bali. Often the things that you think will be the easiest are sometimes the hardest, and the things you assume will be the cheapest are the most expensive. It seems from my observations that the things that most people have/use in Indo are relatively cheap, but things like kitchen tables are expensive by comparison.

Similarly, in a country where there are millions of people who are struggling to feed their children and unemployment is rife you would think applications for jobs would come thick and fast. It’s not so and the reasons are far too complex to try to explain in this post, but needless to say what I thought would be one of the easiest tasks turned out to be the hardest.

So what’s the problem? We have a fully functioning and furnished orphanage. It’s a huge accomplishment given I had 2 weeks to achieve it, granted. What we also have is empty beds.

I introduced you to Kadek Ayu in a previous blog post and I’m happy to be able to tell you a bit more about her now. Kadek’s birthday is February 26^th, she’s the second of two children. Her favourite colour is pink and she loves dogs. When she can watch TV she likes to watch cartoons, Disney movies and Spongebob Squarepants. She has learnt karate at her previous school and when she grows up she would like to be a teacher. Her father died when she was 7 and her mother is remarried and, as per tradition, the children were not welcome in the new marriage. Kadek will start Junior High School sponsored by Project 18 next week. We are very proud to have been able to help her.

You can now sponsor Kadek at $30/AU per month. Payment will be made automatically by credit card each month.

This is a good opportunity for those of you who haven’t sponsored a child in the past because you were concerned about the percentage of funding that would actually reach the target. Project 18 is a small organisation which is run a volunteer management committee; we pay for our own travel costs and don’t rent expensive office space. When you sponsor a child through Project 18 you can be assured that the money will go to where it is needed the most.

We are also expecting the arrival of twin 12 year old girls from Kerangasem. This is the area where the notorious Bali street kids come from. Villages like Munti have been sending their children to Kuta to sell bracelets on the streets for years. This is a systemic problem which we might never be able to solve, but I have a place in my heart for these children that is so huge it may well explode.

I’m disappointed that these girls didn’t arrive before I left as they were supposed to, but unfortunately I’ve had to accept that it is out of my control for the time being. I will have to write a whole new post to talk about the Munti kids because I’ve taken up far too much time here already.

Possibly my greatest frustration in Indonesia was the discovery of so many people who have small scale issues (by Australian standards) which have condemned them to a life of poverty. I spent the entire time I was in Bali conflicted by the desire to use the money I had to help these people with the responsibility to do what I promised I would do.

I have barely slept since I returned from Indonesia for a number of reasons. I’d like to say that it’s not an obsession but anyone who knows me will know that’s just not true. I don’t see the challenge in Indonesia as insurmountable any more. I see hundreds of tiny little hurdles which I know are all within my ability to overcome.

I will need to work harder, smarter and reach a wider audience of people to help me, but I intend to help everyone who I have met who genuinely needs assistance and who is prepared to help themselves.
I’m going to start introducing you to these people soon so I can get over the feeling that I’ve failed in achieving all that I was capable of doing in Indonesia. I have no question that our orphanage beds will be full by the end of the year…but I fear the orphanage will have been the easy part.

So next time you have a crazy idea and someone says “You can’t do that” or “why don’t you stick to what you know” quote my old friend from Lost John Locke -

 ”Don’t tell me what I can’t do”.

Yours in insanely ridiculous and completely achievable dreams,

Cate