In 2009, CARITAS For Children’s founder, Christopher Hoar, sat down to a meeting with a man named Maury whom he had met through a mutual friend. At the front of his mind was a young girl by the name of Wiola. She was about to age out of an orphanage in Chotomow, Poland which had been her home since she was thirteen years old. Without a family to support her and teach her how to make it on her own in the world, Wiola was on the brink of a life changing moment that most of us are prepared for by our parents from the moment we are born. But Wiola didn’t have the luxury of gradually easing into adulthood as many of us do. So it was during that meeting that Chris planted a seed with Maury about sponsoring Wiola and lending some hope to her dreams of New York City.

Imagine you’re standing on the doorstep of an orphanage in Chotomow, Poland, not too far from the city of Warsaw. The ‘dom dziecka’ which means “children’s home,” is the only option you have left.

It smells of moist earth, fresh air, and lush green leaves. It feels like the grass beneath my feet, the cool patter of raindrops falling on my skin, and the warmth of small hands in mine. It tastes of fresh fruit, brightly colored curry powders from the market, and warm matooke that is fresh from the charcoal oven. It sounds like rain, wind, and children laughing. Africa is beautiful, but if you look too closely you can see what some might deem to be the ugly side of paradise.

This past week CARITAS For Children has been celebrating National Catholic Schools Week. Every year in the United States a whole week is dedicated to Catholic schools and the importance of a Catholic education for our children. The theme for this year’s Catholic Schools Week is: “Catholic Schools: Communities of Faith, Knowledge and Service.”1

An education generally represents a key with which to open the doors of success. The possibility of being sponsored through CARITAS For Children facilitates access to school for many children.

In Haiti as anywhere education has importance in shaping the future of everyone.

Three weeks ago, we all made promises to ourselves. We said we’d eat healthier, we’d lose weight, we’d read the bible every day, or we’d smile more: In 2015 I resolve to (fill in the blank). How’s it going? Several people I’ve spoken to about New Year’s resolutions in the past few weeks have quoted a popular statistic to me – only 50 percent of us are going to accomplish our goal.

The hot African sun beats down on the lush landscape of western Kenya. Even amidst bountiful rain that nourishes the greenery, drinkable water can be scarce. The people are forced to dig deeper into the ground until their buckets can reach the cool water from overused wells that have not yet gone completely dry. Water is life, as the saying goes, and in this part of Kenya, finding it is a daily struggle.

Ugandans have a saying that “Water is Life.” Children draw water from dirty streams and wells, canary yellow jerry cans stained with dirt balanced precariously on their heads or clutched in thin fingers. It gushes from pipes, or rain barrels, coveted by the masses. But it’s not clean. It’s not safe. Sometimes it’s like drinking poison.

The moment the door closes the small room is cast into shadow. Acrid smoke from the cooking fire just outside the doors seeps through the cracks in the crumbling brick walls and rotting wooden door. I blink, trying to make out Sr. Carolyne’s light-colored habit as she sits directly in front of me, but for a moment I can see nothing but darkness.

One weekend I decided to go to Kampala, The Ugandan capital. Everyone goes to Kampala, mostly because if you want to buy anything besides a few articles of clothing or basic food supplies it is the only place you can find goods at a reasonable price. As it happens, there is only one main road in and out of the city (which is small for its massive population), so the roads are always clogged. Sometimes you can sit in traffic for hours. It’s not unlike Chicago traffic, with only a portion of the drivers following the rules of the road, and motorcycles weaving in and out of the stopped cars along with people who dart across the streets, heedless of the danger they are in.