Since coming home from Liberia and my visit to The Hope Project, I’ve had contradictory feelings living in me—sadness for a world that leaves people behind (our own country is a prime example of this right now) and a deep conviction that we must continue to imagine a better future. (Loved this Trevor Noah interview with Cleo Abram about what could go right.) 

Meeting 23-year-old Eliza, a graduate of Hope, is definitely reminding me of all the things that can go right. 

Eliza has dreams of attending college and studying computer science, but the tuition of $650 USD per semester is absolutely unattainable for her. There is almost no formal job market in Liberia, and only 17% of the Liberian population has finished any level of schooling, secondary or college. Eliza is the first in her family to graduate from high school, and she would certainly be the first to go to college. Hope International School last year had a 100% success rate in the standard West African test for a high school diploma, so Eliza’s education at Hope (and her distinction as valedictorian) is setting her up for success in a way most students never come close to.  

The Liberian staff at Hope feel so saddened and helpless when they see such a gifted student come through their doors, have an amazing experience at the school, and then graduate to continued poverty and desperation. As I said to Zumana the school CFO, “I want Hope to be an extraordinary experience for every student, but I don’t want it to be the BEST part of their lives.” As a mother, I would be extremely saddened if my children’s school-age experience was the pinnacle of their lives. I want them to make money. I want them to be free from illness and disease. I want them to be choosing between many good options for their futures, and to have professional success–a job that maximizes their strengths and brings purpose and meaning to their lives. 

I got to meet Eliza and tell her that I’d like to put her through college. She began wailing loudly, kneeling next to me in the dirt and burying her head on my knees. Of course, I’m bawling too, and so is everyone else. I told her I didn’t need to be thanked, that she was giving to me by receiving. She asked if she could hug me like a mother. That was one of the best 20 seconds of my life, and I’ve had a lot of good things happen to me. 

There is so much more meaning for me to make out of this experience, and it’s a gift that will unfold for me over time.  

  • It’s a lie that we can’t make a difference. Every primordial wisdom tradition and every person I’ve ever admired, alive or dead, says some version of this. Being alive means responding, whether it’s mutual aid in your own community, protests in the street, or supporting a young person. As Jackie reminded me, “We do for one what we want to do for all.”  
  • Perfect is the enemy of the good. I am against White Savior-ism and painfully aware of the power difference between Eliza and I. I have stayed away from any kind of service trip in the last few decades because of this and mostly given money instead of time. I am allergic to proselytizing of any sort and anyone feeling they owe me anything. So, I have hidden out a little bit for fear of giving imperfectly. No more! 
  • There’s a place for anonymous giving but looking one another in the eye is powerful. I could easily have arranged to give a scholarship anonymously, and certainly that’s a wise choice sometimes. But I think Westerners do that too often because of our own hangups with money and the value judgement we make about being on the receiving end. Had I chosen that route, I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I come back again and again to the power of relationship. 
  • I had people believe in me, and it’s my turn to pass that on. It’s a myth that any of us become who we are alone. I have been blessed with parents, teachers, bosses, mentors, friends, and colleagues who have seen my potential and invested in it.  People rise to the level of expectations we have for them. I did, and Eliza will. (Though I will love and cherish her no matter what grades she gets and no matter what path her life takes.) 
  • It’s all about love. Some of my favorite lines in the world, from the poet Blake, “We are put on this earth for a little while to learn to bear the beams of love.” I felt those beams of love shining on Eliza and I and I will never forget it. 

Thank you for reading this story. It gives me great joy to share it. Like my time with Eliza, it’s an exchange. A precious one.