"Why Do This" FAQs

I'll be on vacation on September 11th, when my officemates are hosting an open house for the other companies that office in our building. This presents a challenge: how do I shamelessly plug the 2009 Light the Way Climb to a new, captive audience?

Unfortunately, if you're reading this, it's not because you're a captive audience.

Fortunately, if you're reading this, it IS because you cared enough to write down the blog link and check it out.

In return for your kindness, I'd like to answer the questions I'm sure you'd ask if I was there.

What is the Light the Way Climb? On January 15th, 2009, a group of 14 climbers will depart for Nairobi, Kenya with an ultimate destination of Moshi, Tanzania where we'll be climbing Kilimanjaro. The purpose of our climb is to raise funds and awareness for the Light of Hope Girls' Home in Karati, Kenya. Specifically, we hope to raise $150,000 to build a medical clinic adjacent to the home.

Why does an orphanage need a clinic? Karati, Kenya is a very rural community, and medically underserved. This medical clinic will provide basic medical care to the girls in the home AND to the surrounding community. At the present time, residents of the Karati area must walk as far as 10 miles for basic medical care, a commute that may be prohibitive if you're already ill.

What kinds of illnesses exist in this part of Kenya? In a study of residents of the Karati area, 50% of respondents reported that either they or someone in their household was facing a terminal illness. Many illnesses that are considered life-threatening in rural Kenya are actually quite manageable with proper care: diabetes, malaria and polio all exist in this area and routinely and unnecessarily shorten life expetancy. Additionally, HIV and AIDS are pandemic in East Africa.

How much of my donation goes to the clinic? Every cent. The expense of the trip and the climb are sponsored or self-funded, and donations made to the Light the Way Climb will go to the cost of building, staffing, equipping and maintaining the clinic.

Is my donation tax-deductable? Yes. LMI is a 501c3 non-profit. Any donation you make is fully tax-deductable.

Is LMI affiliated with any other organizations? Yes and no. LMI is largely financially supported by churches and religious organizations throughout the Twin Cities. However, LMI's mission is first and foremost to run the Light of Hope Girls' Home and to serve its surrounding community as well. You money is not funding a church, although the organization is motivated by the faith of its founders.

How do I donate? You can write a check right now! Make it out to Lighthouse Ministries International, and write Light the Way Climb in the memo line to ensure that funds will go to the clinic. If you'd like to do more research, visit the LMI Web Site at http://www.lmiafrica.com/. If you have further questions, email me at summitsisterhood@gmail.com and I'll put you in contact with the people who are best equipped to answer them.

What happens if you don't reach the summit of Kilimanjaro? Well, I'd be disappointed. But please understand that your sponsorship is for the clinic, and not for me personally. This climb is merely a stunt that allows me to solicit donations for LMI! After all, the idea got your attention, didn't it?

Can my business or corporation sponsor this climb? Sure! And we've got incentives for you to do so! Provide $500 in monetary or equipment sponsorship, and we'll print your company's name and logo on all print materials related to the climb. Plus, we'll add a link on this blog, and on LMI's Web site and blog. Provide $1000 worth of equipment or funds in sponsorship, and you'll receive all of the previously mentioned benefits, plus we'll provide you with a photograph of your company logo on a banner we're bringing on the climb. Donors of any amount will receive an invitation to our after-climb party.

What else can I do to help? Is there anything that doesn't cost money? Absolutely! Refer your friends to this blog and tell them to click on the ads! We're paid per click, so that's free money for us! Also, talk to friends in the media, friends who own businesses, neighborhood groups, etc. and find out what they'd be willing to do. Be creative! Can you loan a high-quality sleeping bag to a climber so that they don't need to purchase one? That would allow the climber to donate the cost of a bag to the clinic project. We're open to any support you can give, in any way you can give it. Email me with your ideas at summitsisterhood@gmail.com.

I'd really like to hear you babble about why this is so important. Can you help? Sure! I'd be happy to: I've seen pictures of the beautiful residents of Light of Hope, and was immediately overcome with the knowledge that the only difference between these girls and my own daughter is the continent on which they were born. Many of these girls are very young, and some have HIV. Can you imagine being 8 years old and sick enough to need treatment, and having to walk 10 miles to receive help? In the end, it's so easy to provide these children with the care they need to thrive. All it takes is for you to decide that YOU CAN be part of a solution.

What will you do for me in return? I'm open to negotiation, but I'm happy to EARN your donation. Need me to clean your desk on my lunch break? Sure! Is it worth ten bucks to me if you want me to wear a leiderhosen to work? Absolutely. I will accomodate any legal, ethical and minimally disruptive request that I can. Think about it. This could be really fun for you.

Thanks so much for taking the time to visit, and God bless.

Kate (aka Summit Sister 1)

Training Log: Push Ups

I am a spaghetti-armed, pencil-necked geek, genetically hardwired to store everything on my stomach and thighs, but nothing on my arms. They're like alien arms. They do nothing but hang there weakly. When I think about Kilimanjaro, I look at my arms disdainfully.

This won't work. I want strong arms so that I can drag my sorry hide up the mountain by my poles when my legs fail. I need muscular shoulders so that I can carry my pack with my head held high. I dream of having forearms cast from iron, so that I can walk up Kilimanjaro on my hands or swing through the rainforest portion of the hike like a monkey in the trees.

I want to make it look easy, which is the most precise explanation for why I'm virtually guaranteed to be the one who spends the whole trek barfing from altitude sickness. I know pride is one of the seven deadly sins, but that's no reason to not train.

Last night, I did push-ups.

Seventy-five of them, which might seem to be no big deal to you, if you weren't born with spaghetti arms. To me, it was seventy-five quivering descents into the bowels of hell.

And then I had a moment of clarity: I don't really want to walk up the mountain on my hands. I'd rather use my legs. On the agenda for tonight: Stairmastering my quads into oblivion and deciding to slither up Kilimanjaro on my belly.

When all else fails...

Due to an out-of-town husband, an insurmountable laundry list of chores, a pending trip to Chicago, an insane work schedule and a deeply rooted need to take a break from any one of the aforementioned tasks, training has been sent to the backburner for a few days.

I've got it all justified: I'm training mentally.

Here's how:


I watched this.

And then I read this.

And this.

And now I feel very well informed, but the laundry list of chores and the hours of work and the pending trip remain.

I had the opportunity once to interview a very wise woman for the magazine I edit, and I asked her how she managed to balance her work life with her family life. She brilliantly stated that it's not a balancing act--it's a juggling act. Those words have stayed with me for months.

As I've added training to my already busy life, sometimes I feel like it might be too much to juggle. I'm constantly waiting to drop the next ball.

But I'm also learning that I'm capable of doing more than I thought I could do, and while it's quite an awkward dance sometimes, I haven't dropped the ball yet. And if I do, I suppose I'll just pick it up, dust it off, and begin again.

It's funny. The benevolent part of me wanted to climb that amazing mountain so that I could raise money for Light of Hope, and the more selfish parts of me wanted to prove to myself that I still hadn't lost the part of me that used to be fearless.

Bit by bit I'm learning that I'm terrified. I'm not fearless, and I never have been. And for awhile, that realization hurt just a little, because for so long I identified myself as The Bold One. My source of pride in myself was a belief that I was unafraid.

These days, I'm learning to be proud in a different way. I'm connecting to fears of failure and anger and potential, and I'm living through them, and it's delicious.

Thanks to that mountain, I'm finally learning to live honestly.

Thanks, Kilimanjaro.

And thanks, Light of Hope, for beginning to reawaken hope in me.

Joke of the Year

Well, maybe not the whole year. But since time is doing funny, funny things in the office today, we'll fudge the definition of "year" a bit.

Q: What does Kevin Bacon call a sandwich with lettuce and tomato?

A: A Me-L-T.

My coworker Heather told me if I posted that, she'd click the ads on the bottom of my page. That, in turn, earns me cash to donate to the Light of Hope Girls' Home in Kenya, where we hope to build a medical clinic that serves not only the needs of Light of Hope, but the surrounding community as well.

You should click, too.

Training Log: Labor Day Hike

In the spirit of Labor Day, we decided to go for a hike that could only have been less comfortable if we actually were in labor. So out came the boots and poles and off we went to Red Wing, Minnesota, where Barn Bluff and the beautiful hills of Frontenac State Park waited for us.

In truth, it was a perfect day. My daughters stuck to the easiest trails with my father while my Summit Sister--my mother--and I raced my husband across tougher terrain.

The scenery at Barn Bluff was amazing. Looking down from the cliff side, the river sparkled in the late summer sun as though the waters were bragging about their own ability to shine. On the rocky cliff faces, climbers slowly crept up their chosen routes. It struck me as beautiful that so many people could gather at a crag, seeking to put their faith in their friends, their ropes, and their own strength. I wondered what separates people who choose to climb, literally or otherwise, from those who stay safely grounded? How did those climbers learn that on this beautiful planet, there are no shortages of friends, or ropes, or strength? Do they carry that grace with them in the rest of their lives?

For me, training to climb Kilimanjaro has thus far been an exercise in questions and metaphors, arriving often and unannounced and testing my sense of self. I've always thought of myself as a confident, self-assured woman, but as I pushed myself through the intense heat of the early September I couldn't help wondering: Will I arrive at the mountain with a climber's spirit? Or will I succumb to the belief that life is dangerous, that my strength sill not sustain me and that there is nothing to catch me in moments of weakness?

More importantly, what will I teach the children?

Will my own daughters have the courage to slowly inch their way toward the top of life's steepest cliffs, confident that it's worth the effort to see a view that few others will ever know?

I wondered about the girls at Light of Hope, young women who've never been given the option of a safe landing. They climb because they have to. Do they know about the people who care? Do they know that we'd gladly serve as their belayers, catching them should they slip? Will I have the chance to teach them that people care?

Will people care?

As we progress to the point in our training where dreams fade into realities, I worry that our goal of raising enough to fund a medical clinic is absurd. I worry that I won't be able to carry my weight. I imagine myself at the crag, hanging by trembling fingertips. I wonder about the rope.

I guess it's the definition of faith. There is a rope of chance sustaining us on this journey, and we're going to have to trust it. Somehow it will all come together. The climbers knew this, as they contemplated each move. Somewhere they'd find their next hold, stretch forward, and gain ground. That's what gets them to the top.

And that is why I spent the holiday weekend in 90-degree heat on a seemingly endless uphill trek. Climbing a serpentine staircase up the side of the cliff wall, it occured to me that if I had to, I could climb a million stairs right now if it meant someday arriving at that summit in Tanzania, and ultimately closer to my fundraising goal for that clinic in Karati, Kenya.

Even as my muscles began to tremble, I picked up the pace, walking in my heart from a park in Southern Minnesota to an orphanage on a Kenyan hillside.

Welcome to the Summit Sisterhood

Our blog is presently under construction, but we'd love to direct you to Lighthouse Ministries International for more information on our upcoming fundraising climb on Mount Kilimanjaro.

We're two climbers on the journey to the (second) highest point in Africa, and with the help of God and our friends, families, and communities we hope to raise $20,000 for the purpose of building and sustaining a medical clinic that will serve not only the girls of the Light of Hope Girls' Home in Kenya, but also its surrounding community.

Please consider helping us. Find out how at LMI's Web site, or email us at summitsisterhood@gmail.com for more information.