Trying to explain to a child why his world has suddenly been turned upside down after an event like the devastating natural disasters that took place last March in Japan is impossible. In situations such as these, parents are likely plagued with the same question weighing on their children’s minds— Why us? Why our home?

As a parent, I can only imagine what it must be like to have to tell your child that they can no longer go outside to play because of the toxic conditions, which months later still linger in the most heavily hit areas of Japan.

On July 18th, our partnership organization, With You Japan, created by IndyCar driver Takuma Sato, held an event to give some of these children the outdoor playtime they have been missing out on.

On July 18, children and their families were invited out to Mobi Park amusement park in Motegi, Japan to play and meet some of the top racecar drivers competing in the nearby Indy Japan Finals.

On arrival, the kids were given hand-painted backpacks decorated by their “brothers and sisters” here in the United States. The bags were filled with a free one-day pass to the amusement park, a lunch voucher, and other goodies. Over 2,000 children and their families from surrounding areas were able to explore and play in the park’s forest playground and Honda Fan Fun lab. A highlight for the kids? Go-karting with their favorite Indy drivers.

Sato thought long and hard about what to bring for the children and he decided on the backpacks because of the personal thought that went into them. The backpacks were decorated by children in South Central Los Angeles, who know only too well what it feels like to be a prisoner in their homes.

For the child in Watts who attended our South Central arts workshop in May, daily life consists of just hoping he will make it home from school safely and avoiding the dangers of street violence and gangs. He is hundreds of thousands of miles from Japan, but he came out to the May event to give back to another child who knows exactly what it is like to lose family members, to see his or her home destroyed, and to perhaps feel like there is no hope.

Children Mending Hearts is about children reminding other children that there is hope and that they are not alone. My wish is that when that child in Japan wears his colorfully-painted backpack, he remembers not just the fun he had at With You Japan’s event, but that somewhere far away there is another child who understands and who cares.

I must weep at least four times a day. Driving down Ventura Blvd., pondering something completely innocuous, my face streaming with tears; I can only imagine what the people who pull up beside me at stoplights must think when they look over and wonder why I’m sporting a pair of crazy pants.

Initially, I would try to contain myself during one of these seeming Broadcast News moments, but now I embrace my tears. There are many reasons that I cry: I cry when I’ve discovered that a young mother with three children has recently died of ovarian cancer, when a friend has lost a relative, their job, or their marriage. But of all the things that I weep for, it is the children I weep for the most. For the children that I have had the honor of working with, the children I would like the honor of working with, for a chance, a voice, their hopes and dreams and always, always for their sweet, honest laughter.

The reality that I simply cannot help all of them is crushing. I carry their sorrow and their pain on my shoulders. I wake in the morning and I go to sleep every night with the children of the world on my mind. I thought to myself one day, what would happen if we focused on one child at a time, one child a month, twelve children a year? What if we chose one child every month and gave the children of this country a chance to help that child. Then one of my staff members came up with a wonderful concept; a campaign entitled, “Spotlight Child Of The Month”. I knew that by implementing this concept, we could drastically and immediately change the lives of twelve children a year.

Now — every month, Children Mending Hearts (CMH) shines the light back into a child’s life through our Spotlight Program.

So many children are forgotten and left hiding in the shadows, but CMH spotlights a child every chance we get and brings them out of those shadows. Through community outreach, donations, and continued awareness, we are able to focus on the dire, physical and emotional needs of these children. By targeting their specific needs we are empowering them and building the courage and confidence they not only need but deserve to keep that precious light burning within.

In May 2011, we will be introducing Jermaine Fairweather.
Jermaine is an extraordinary, bright and hardworking young man. On a fateful night three years ago, his life was forever changed when what began as a fun night out with friends quickly turned tragic. Jermaine was mercilessly gunned down in a senseless robbery. The spray of bullets rained down hard on him; his life was spared but he was left paralyzed.

With an incredibly loving family but no money to cover medical care, Jermaine was forced into a deplorable state-run nursing facility where he has been terribly neglected and has currently fought a dangerous staph infection caused by painful bedsores. The caregivers at the nursing home ignored his pleas for help and when Jeremiah spoke up that he knew something was wrong with his body, they didn’t listen or step in.
The infection turned life threatening quickly and weakened his immune system so greatly that he was left unable to fight — sending him CODE BLUE, which required immediate resuscitation.

Representatives at the hospital have reported that Jermaine’s wounds will never heal properly in his current wheelchair, so it is our goal to bring him a new one. In fact, we want to get him a sports wheelchair where he can play basketball on his own. We also want to help provide him other essential needs, but certainly not excluding fun games and pastimes that we all have the luxury of enjoying. I hope that you will join us in helping aid this extraordinary young man who is still working tirelessly at securing a bright future with a smile on his face, despite it all.

Since implementing this program, I’m now weeping on average around three times a day. I weep because I’m so eternally grateful for every waking moment because every moment is another chance we have at changing these kids’ lives for the better.
Please visit our Spotlight Child section on our website to learn more about Jermaine’s Take Actions.

I recently had the honor of working with the beautiful children of Artists for Peace and Justice. I can’t say enough about this wonderful organization. They have virtually no staff (by choice) and have been able to change the lives of thousands of Haitians. They are a grassroots organization that truly walks the walk.

We enjoyed the wonderful experience of leading a workshop with over 100 children. We were informed that our first group was orphans, which I’ve learned is an extremely loosely based term in Haiti. Most of the ‘orphans’ likely have family members here in Haiti who are simply incapable of providing for their needs.

When the little ones arrived, they were not quite sure of what to expect. They politely sat at the tables and began to stare curiously at the paint and paintbrushes. It was as if they were gazing at aliens from a far away planet; they simply stared at all the art supplies laid before them and refused to touch anything.

I explained to my team that these children had most likely never seen, much less touched, a paintbrush and relayed that we would physically have to grasp their little hands, teach them to hold the brushes, then place brushes in the paint and watch magic happen. For many members of my team, this was their virgin international trip, and to see the look on their faces when the children began to beam was one of those memories that will be etched in my heart forever. To witness a child holding a paintbrush for the first time is a wonderful feeling, and at times, has literally been my saving grace.

As wonderful as our day was, we still had not received our duffel bags from customs and the ransom to collect them was growing higher by the moment. However, we didn’t let this turn of events dampen our spirits or our ability to get creative with the children. Thinking on our feet had become the norm.

Tired, dirty and thirsty, we returned to our hotel. My cameraman informed me that he had decided to go inside the IDP camp located across the street, stressing the importance to get footage inside a camp not run by an NGO. I begged him not to go since we had already let our security guard go home for the evening, but he insisted.

He came back a short time later — everyone could see he was rattled. This is a man whom I’ve seen escape from militia in the Congo and not bat an eye. He said that he had been surrounded and threatened. He nervously relayed the angry mob kept repeating over and over, “Hey you, hey you, we know what you’re trying to do, get out now or else, get out now.” They then tried in vain to take his camera.

For me, this was just a quick reminder of how angry many Haitians are, and I must admit, I can empathize with them. We have had the pleasure of working with some amazing grassroots organizations, but it appears that many of the NGOs seem to be working at cross-purposes. In my opinion, they are more interested in temporary band-aids and donor dollars than exacting change and partnerships. While I’m well aware we don’t live in a cave, strong partnerships and alliances will be the only way to exact a true measure of change.

Tomorrow is another day in Haiti. I look forward to seeing the children laugh and smile and dance until they can no longer.

We arrived in Haiti easily enough although we ended up having 37 duffel bags full of supplies for the children, an American Airlines first. It took us an hour and half to reach our hotel. A drive that normally would have taken 20 minutes without chaos, traffic, and piles of rubble. I was amazed by the thousands of people moving through the streets seemingly not to notice that their city that was literally cracked in half at its core. As we pulled up to our quaint little hotel, The Kinam, I was shocked to see an IDP camp directly across the street. The reality, irony and subsequent guilt quickly set in. I immediately realized that I would soon be tucked into my sweet little hotel, with armed guards, running water and cold beer, and less than 20 feet away, people were forced to bathe and defecate in public. The utter and complete loss of humanity is immensely prevalent.

The next morning we were driven a hour from town to visit the Artists for Peace and Justice school where we would be working. First, we toured the nearby hospital where I immediately fell in love with two babies whose heads were far bigger than the rest of their bodies. This was due to swelling on the brain. Our guide told us in most circumstances that this was a treatable condition. The fluid surrounding the brain could easily be drained if it was caught in enough time. Sadly, for these beautiful babies, they had not been treated in time and the outlook was grim.

Our next stop was to visit the J/P HRO camp, which houses close to 40,000. The camp used to be a golf course. Forty thousand people living on a nine hole golf course. The irony did not escape me. Before I was able to go on my tour, I received a call from the airport letting me know that I had to come and personally pick up the two bags of cameras and computers that we had shipped prior to our arrival. We needed those supplies for the workshop the following morning so I quickly rushed to the airport and provided my passport. I then asked for my bags and was told that they would not be released and I had to come back tomorrow. I begged and pleaded and attempted to explain to him in vain that I could not do my workshop with the children unless I had those bags. I would not be able to work with orphans, sick children, Haitian children, his children. He looked at me with dead black eyes and smiled. I can only imagine the hue of his heart, if he indeed has one. After a few fruitless hours, my security guard told me he was going to try one more thing. He said he was going to another building. I refused to leave the bags and was given an extra cell phone by my translator; to call them in case any danger arose. There I was alone in a baggage hanger with 40 Haitian men and my two black duffel bags that were probably not leaving with me. Ten minutes passed then, 30, when suddenly an alleged security guard came and sat down beside me and asked my name. I politely told him, than he grinned broadly, put his hand on his gun and told me that he needed money and I had to give it to him. I was gently slipping my hand in my purse to press the dial button to call my security when my translator briskly walked into the building. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life.

Laws, rules and regulations don’t exist in Haiti. They are created on the spot to support the need for greed and survival. Is it simply too late for the people of Haiti? I pray not. I pray for hope and peace. I pray for the two babies I kissed goodbye to today in the hospital and I pray for the man with the black eyes who still has my supplies.