For those who have met me in person and met my father, it is clear that I am my father’s daughter. We have the same talkative nature, the same take charge attitude (although he’s probably wrong less frequently than me), and even some of the same mannerisms. He’s my best mentor for business, for faith, for life in general. So he’s pretty great. I aspire to be more like him in many ways and one of the things I’ve always appreciated about our relationship is that I’ve never felt the need to get out of my dad’s shadow.

Which is probably a good thing because today, I received an email from a headhunter who found me on LinkedIn. But he wasn’t trying to reach me … he was trying to reach my father:

Subject Line: If you’re Rich’s daughter

I’d appreciate it if you either send me his current contact info or tell him I’d like to reconnect with him. Last time I talked to him he was at The Company, but I don’t have his current email or phones. Also tell Rich Peter [surname redacted] would like to find him.

Thanks for the help,

Tim

Funny how an innocent and well-intentioned note can make one feel so used and yet invisible at the same time!

One of my favorite high school memories is singing Crosby Stills and Nash’s Southern Cross in show choir — the wonderful Mrs. Brickman was at the helm, we’d all be wearing our Studio Singers tuxedos and red bowties (hey, don’t smirk!), and hearing our talented group harmonize over lyrics like “Cause the truth you might be runnin’ from is so small/But it’s as big as the promise, the promise of a comin’ day” was enough to make me want to cry.

Now that I live in the southern hemisphere, the actual Southern Cross constellation is a regular feature in my night sky. And I love it. This grouping of four major stars somehow connects with me on an emotional and almost spiritual level — I love finding it and feeling the ensuing wave of nostalgia, gratitude and appreciation for those singing and performing days. Today, I happened to stumble across a stargazing blog whose pictures of Crux made me gasp and nearly overwhelmed me with its beauty. Just check out how stunning this constellation is, up close and personal. This world is an amazing and breathtaking creation, no?

More at NGC4755 The Jewel Box in the Southern Cross « My Dark Sky.

This post is dedicated to all the amazing people who have so far fundraised, donated, or otherwise supported One Home Many Hopes and our Breaking Ground campaign.

So, okay, I admit, I was a bit pissy in my last post about the campaign. What can I say? There have definitely been tough moments.

But then there are these amazing moments — like when you realize that there are people scattered around the world who are working so hard for these 32 little girls who they’ve never met. We started out this campaign with 6 people in three cities and two countries, an idea, a conference call phone number, and the need to raise $70,000. Now, we have 184 people raising money to raise a new roof and 567 people who have donated. And that doesn’t even count all the people who attended and donated OHMH events in London, Boston, New York, San Francisco and other places around the world.

And wow — how these people have rallied their networks! There are crew leaders who have recruited other team members and together have raised nearly $4,000 in two weeks. I have a Google alert set up for “One Home Many Hopes” and people I’ve never contacted nor even heard of are blogging about OHMH, the girls, and how excited they are to be a part of this effort. Thanks to the passion and dedication of these people — these strangers to me and to the girls! — we are just over halfway through the campaign and raised just over half of what’s needed.

We’re still not done! Even here in Lesotho, people are getting involved — a Maseru bake sale is being organized for this Sunday, 2-4pm. Come on out and buy some of the best baked goods that you’ll find in this town – no exaggeration. Lemon bars, pineapple upside down cake, New York style bagels, chocolate chip cookies, banoffee tarts, sugar cookies, amarula chocolate truffles, banana nut bread — and that’s only a partial list of what will be available. This is no grade school bake sale, folks; you won’t want to miss it!

So, another hearty thank you to all the One Home Many Hopes supporters out there. What you’re doing matters. Not just in the big scheme of life, but in the individual lives of 32 grateful girls.

I am an ENFP.

And as much as I love Myers-Briggs types and other such personality analysis frameworks, I don’t normally use them as my lens through which to see the world and make sense of it. This morning, though, I experienced one of those moments when the abstract becomes tangible.

My co-worker had a run-in with the security guard company last night. Evidently, the alarm keypad in her house keeps sticking so she can’t properly disarm the alarm. And when your alarm goes off, the security company sends over a guard to check and make sure everything is ok. The poor girl has repeatedly set off the alarm due to the faulty keypad and has told the security company repeatedly to fix the keypad. Naturally, they haven’t yet.

Last night, she tripped the alarm and the security company sent over a guy, who very rudely inquired of my co-worker, “Why do you keep failing?” That question alone would have been enough to set me off. But it gets worse. After she explained that she’s repeatedly requested a repair on her keypad, this security guard shoved open her front door, pushed past her, and entered her house.

I repeat: I am an ENFP. As soon as I heard her story up to that point, I immediately reacted with shock and horror, proclaimed that he had no right to enter her house without permission, that this was a safety violation and that it should be reported. My co-worker, an INFP, looked a little skeptical and a little doubtful. So I picked up the phone, called our office administrator who deals with the security company for the office and for our homes, and had her come over to listen to the story. She said she’d talk to the security company.

After all this, the INFP tells me that our third co-worker, an ESTJ, had reacted entirely differently. The ESTJ suggested that maybe there was a cultural difference to account for the guard’s behavior, and disclaimed that she wasn’t there to really see how the events played out, so she couldn’t really say whether the INFP should report what happened.

Whoa. I mean, we were like textbook Myers-Briggs archetypes. And it made me realize how important it really is to have different people with their different personalities, thought processes, and reactions. Depending on the situation, you may want someone like me who goes with the gut intuition and makes a decisive move. Or you may want the ESTJ who wants to get the facts before leaping ahead. Or the INFP who wants to do right by everyone and keep the peace. Granted, having these personalities in one group might also mean a whole lot of conflict.

Thankfully, the three of us manage to work hard in our small, shared office, laugh a lot, commiserate and sympathize with each other, bounce ideas off each other and just all around work really well together. And we hang out socially, whether eating out at the Indian restaurant (cuz there’s only one in Maseru), or making tacos and watching a Glee marathon. They keep me sane, this INFP and ESTJ, and I’m glad for it!

Wanna know your Myers-Briggs type? Go here and answer the 72 yes/no questions. It’ll only take 2 minutes. Then, drop me a note/comment and let me know your type!

Just because I volunteer for orphaned girls in Kenya , it doesn’t make me a good person.

I mean that.

One of the most frustrating things I’ve experienced since I began co-leading a fundraising campaign a few months ago is when people are reluctant to get involved because they don’t want to appear to be saying “lookie lookie, I’m a good person!”

It’s an understandable feeling, don’t get me wrong.

But I’m gonna vent for a bit — volunteering or fundraising doesn’t make you a good person. It’s a good thing to do but it doesn’t make you a good person. In fact, you can fundraise and kinda be a jerk about it. One of our fundraisers in New York is using the tagline “Give some money. Don’t be a dick.”

And I like that.

I like it because it doesn’t try to make you gooey with sympathy. It just calls you out — no matter how bad things are in the US economy, you can still spare $20. Give up one night’s dinner out. And if you can spare it, so can many of the people you know. They just have to be asked.

Co-leading this campaign from Lesotho has really sucked sometimes. People are difficult. Collaboration takes patience. A six-hour time difference between me and the most of the team has meant long nights and conference calls in the wee hours of the morning. And I hate it sometimes. So there, I feel like saying that already makes me a not-good person. Who can hate raising money for 32 orphaned girls who desperately need a new home? Me. That’s who. I do love these girls crazy madly deeply, but I’m not doing this campaign just because of that. It’s just something that needs to get done. And I”ll probably never want to lead a campaign again. That doesn’t make me a good person (although it does make me appreciate the people who fundraise for a living).

Neither are you a holier-than-thou, do-gooder by asking for a few bucks from people who can spare them. So, hey, the next time a friend or a colleague asks you to join a fundraising team, just give it a shot — especially if the cause is something you connect with. All you have to do is send a few emails to everyone you know. And don’t gush.

Okay. Glad to have that off my chest.

And now, here’s your invitation — Give some money or Join my Team. Don’t be a dick.