Amanda Christmann Larson

Many years ago, I was a young, single mom struggling to raise a baby on my own. Times were really tough, and by "really," I mean the kind of tough that turns a trip to Wal-Mart into a special holiday and makes adding hamburger to Hamburger Helper a reason to break out the good china, if I'd have owned it.   I lived in a small Iowa town in an 800-square-foot house with a single wall heater stuck in the plaster between the kitchen and the living room, and a single bedroom where my son's crib covered nearly the whole floor. I worked at a veterinary clinic because I liked animals, but it was the people who made the biggest impact on me.   One morning, somewhere in between paychecks, I found myself pouring the last of our milk into my son's bottle. He was less than a year old, and a very, very picky eater, so one of his staples was toddler baby formula in milk. I watered down gallons of whole milk to save money: one gallon of milk became two, but we still went through it quickly because... More

Kids and traffic: Two things that, together, make a mom's heart skip a beat.   No matter how many times we tell our kids to be careful, there's always that youthful element of "It won't happen to me." Children just don't get it ... but then again, why should they? They don't have the life experience to understand that bad things can and do happen, and that things can go wrong in the blink of an eye.   That's what happened to my friend's son yesterday.   In case you didn't happen to be home during the daytime, the Anthem Skate Park was completely packed. School was out for a teacher work day, and word got out like lightening through the elementary school grapevine that non-motorized scooters are allowed at the skate park for a one-year trial period. Every kid who's gotten a scooter under the tree or for his birthday over the last five years was out there giving it a whirl.   Confidence can be pretty high when you're 11 and losing a tooth is the most traumatic thing that's happened... More

I've been back in my own world for almost a week now, and I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy every second of washing machine-dishwasher-hot shower-soft bed-smiling loved ones bliss. Even so, I still have dreams that I'm back in Ghana, and I still wake up a little confused about where I am on some mornings. Throughout the day, my thoughts still wander back to people and places that seem so distant from here, and secretly, my fear is not that they'll keep coming, it's that they'll go away. I don't want to forget. I can't forget. I have friends who are passionate about all kinds of things. I have watched the uncomfortable looks on others' faces when these friends start discussing their passions with an unwitting or unwilling audience. No one wants to hear about animal rights when they're buying steaks, and no one wants to hear about the environment when they're washing their SUV. Likewise, no one wants to hear about child slaves in Africa while they're busy living their... More

The best part about coming home from a long trip is ... everything. Getting off the plane at Sky Harbor after the last two or so months in Ghana, I couldn't help but think of the scene in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy stepped out of the black and white into the Technicolor world of Oz. Everything is so intense in the wake of my travels; my love and affection for my husband, love for my kids, appreciation of food, good roads and a soft bed. It's all so vivid and extraordinary. Even after a couple of days, I am still at a loss when people ask how my trip went. A mishmash of emotions gets stuck in my throat and I don't know where to start. I don't know yet what to feel. I wake up early in the morning, well before the sun, thinking about children left behind and challenges ahead. Throughout the day, I remember funny moments with volunteers. I try to share the stories, but somehow always seem to end with, "I guess you had to be there." It is very difficult, I'm finding, to have... More

Yesterday was an incredible day. It started out with a glass of wine and a shot of gin before 7am, which is something I don't recall doing even during those early college years. The whole thing is a bit surreal, but I am so excited, humbled and just plain giddy about the future that I can hardly put it all into words, even though, yes, the gin has worn off.   We traveled to Tafi Atome again on Sunday and spent Monday enjoying the area. We visited people in small roadside stores, met new friends from Germany and Holland and even played a little frisbee in the cool afternoon breeze. In the evening, we enjoyed a great meal of rice and bean stew prepared by the Queen Mother.   Tafi Atome is a scenic little village located in the jungle-covered mountains about 20 kilometers south of Hohoe, a city situated just on the other side of a mountaintop that divides Ghana from it's French-speaking neighbor, Togo. Tafi Atome is best known for its monkey sanctuary, which was... More

A year and a half ago, I crossed the placid waters of Lake Volta in eastern Ghana, West Africa to see child slavery up close and personal for the first time. My friend Tony took me to a tiny fishing village to discuss the problem, as well as the poverty and lack of education and opportunity that continue to fuel the flames of child trafficking.   On our hour-long journey across the lake in a rickety fishing boat, complete with a hacked-off jug to scoop water as the leaky floor filled up, I saw several young boys working on fishing boats. These boys have been sold by their parents (mostly single mothers who cannot support them). Many mothers are promised the children will attend school and be well cared-for. This is not the case. They are beaten. They go hungry for days at a time. They sleep outside in the mud. They don't go to school. They fear for their lives.   On that first journey. I snapped a photo of two little boys in a boat that haunts me to this day. They were so small, and... More

Thanksgiving in Rural Ghana, Africa (continued)   The next day, Wednesday, was no less emotional. We traveled with the chief to visit a village where several slave masters want to release their child slaves. Currently, there is nowhere for them to release the children to. Their parents (mostly single mothers) do not want the children back because they can't afford to feed them.The next day, Wednesday, was no less emotional. We traveled with the chief to visit a village where several slave masters want to release their child slaves. Currently, there is nowhere for them to release the children to. Their parents (mostly single mothers) do not want the children back because they can't afford to feed them. The chiefs of both villages have enlisted our help in building an orphanage for many of these kids, and they wanted to show us just what we're getting into.   We left our village by canoe early in the morning. Evans, our friend in the village who owns an outboard... More

This week, many of my thoughts have been with my friends and family who have, no doubt, been enjoying a short work week and a bountiful amount of food and football. Each of us has been so blessed to have so much love, opportunity and comfort in our lives. I have never been one for guilt or gloom, so I have never been the kind of person to try to make others feel badly for what they have because others do without. Sometimes, though, a reminder of just how much we Americans have to be appreciative of is a helpful thing. We just finished Week 4 in Ghana. I'm half a week from being halfway home, but I have been humbly grateful for every day I've had here, and the opportunity the three of us (Jake from Chicago, Deb from Alabama and myself) have had to make an impact on lives here, including our own. Our week started off with a tough morning. Tuesday, Godson, a boy who is about 19 years old (the same age as my oldest son) was rushed to the clinic. He was convulsing and rigid when... More

In the early morning hours of October 26, a flash flood warning came over the radio in Kasoa, Ghana, where about 130 students attend school at Christ Outreach Orphanage and School. About 20 children were asleep in the dorms and all was quiet when the alarm rang out. No one heard the broadcast at the school, but nearby, a teacher named Stephen was listening to the radio. Even though it was 1 o'clock in the morning, he rushed out to notify the caretakers at the orphanage and evacuate the children.   Others came, too. Several older boys who attend school at the orphanage and live nearby also heard the warning. They, too, ran to the school to help. Every one of the children and caretakers was rescued to higher ground before a tremendous wall of water overtook the compound. Bedding, shoes, desks, clothing, kitchen supplies and school supplies were carried out into the street and through the neighborhood, along with what little many other nearby residents owned. Wooden storefronts that... More

Can you imagine being in labor and struggling, perhaps having life-threatening bleeding or complications and not being in a hospital? How about having to walk during that time to get help? Many of us in the West can't fathom what that would be like, but for women in villages along Ghana's Lake Volta, it gets even worse. Can you imagine what it would be like to be in labor and in great pain, and have to balance yourself in a tiny fishing boat for at least two hours while someone rowed you to the hospital?When women go into labor in the village of Bakpakope, Mekporwovor, a stout man with a warm smile and quick laugh, goes into action. He is certified to deliver babies, and he has a certificate hanging on the mud wall of his hut to prove it. He has delivered children for nearly all of the families in his village and in several miles surrounding it.Sometimes things go wrong. Like any birth situation, things happen that can endanger the life of the mother or the child.... More

The first time I cried was about two weeks into my first trip to Ghana. I was teaching in an orphanage, and I'd arrived full of hope and confidence, with all kinds of warm, fuzzy feelings about helping others and making a difference.   After days of eagerly reporting to my job and spending long hours sweating and stumbling through lessons in a concrete classroom next to the kitchen, where an open fire on the floor heated up the building like a brick oven, I realized that what I thought I knew about life, poverty, children and human suffering really amounted to less than the tiny sliver of chalk I was sharing with two other teachers.   I grew to love my students, and in doing so, I began to learn about their lives. They became more than just faces looking back at me. They became little humans full of struggles and challenges that I couldn't imagine going through at such a young age (or even now). And, in learning about them, I also realized that I was surrounded by an entire country... More

I'm a pretty upbeat person, but every now and then I have a day when I step in the proverbial turd of life and can't seem to get it off my shoe. Today was one of those days. It was just one thing after another. It was one of those days when I just wanted to lay down in my bed on my decorative pillows with my comforter pulled up high (I'd have to turn the air way down for that). I also wanted someone to bring me endless bowls of Raisin Bran and maybe some really nice tea on the good china, with little packets of Splenda and a fancy stirring spoon.   Nobody did that, though, so I went to Fry's in my dumpy clothes and bought triple chocolate cookies, and I ate exactly two and a half of them while I sat on the couch with my best friend watching Biggest Loser. I think that's the best way to enjoy that show.   I know tomorrow will be better and blah blah blah, but some days are just stinkers. I know misery loves company, so if you're feeling like you're having a day when you just don't... More

Social media is an amazing thing. Through LinkedIn, I recently met a woman named Ber-Henda Williams who has made it her life's mission to empower girls through writing. Her organization, Poetry, Pages and Scribes, is now working in Detroit-area public libraries and schools, and her goal is to show 1,000 girls the power of their own voices by developing their writing and artistic talents.   I love what she's doing, and I recently made an appearance on her site as a guest blogger. After talking with her, I was inspired myself to write about the importance of creating one's own life story. Too many times, I think people want to wait until everything is perfect in their lives before indulging their passions. The problem, though, is that the "perfect" time never really comes. In reality, it is now.   Here's what I wrote (original link here: http://www.poetrypagescribes.org/?p=239):   The Story of You Many of us go through life doing the “right” things. We go to the right school. We... More

Well, this is cool. Medical Missions' director Steve Thiltgen asked if I'd be interested in writing a guest blog for their site. I didn't realize the reach it would have around the world. Here's the blog post I did. Click on the link to check out the amazing responses! http://www.medicalmissionsblog.org/2011/09/12/can-i-really-make-a-difference/     Here's the text:   Can I Really Make a Difference?   As director of Compassionate Journeys, a Medical Missions partner organization, one of the concerns I field most is, “Can I really make a lasting change in people’s lives?” The simple answer is: Yes, you can.   The problems in developing countries are vast. There aren’t enough resources. Education isn’t always available. Clean water can be difficult to find. Poverty is overwhelming. It can be difficult to look into the eyes of a child who is being treated and know that they very well may be injured or become sick again after returning to the same environment that... More

Selena Larson and I are on about month three of training for the big Babes Blocking Traffic ride across the United States, and I’m finding that I gain a lot of drive and determination by thinking about the faces of the children I know we will be impacting. A major part of our fundraising goal for this Compassionate Journeys project is to change the mindset of the people in the fishing communities along Lake Volta through education and the creation of economic opportunties, especially for women and girls. Child slavery is such an ingrained part of the culture there, partly because fishermen need to use the children as cheap labor to fish and support their own poverty-stricken families. Girls are used in farming fields, and also as house help to lift some of the burden off of wives, who are often doing the same work themselves. In the process, though, both boys and girls become “property” and are not valued as children. They sleep on the ground or in boats, are... More