Planting Trees is Social Justice

Note from Adrian: This is a guest post from Aly Lewis, from Plant With Purpose. Plant With Purpose is a non-profit organization based out of San Diego that finds creative, sustainable ways to eradicate poverty around the world. Today, Aly is sharing an incredible opportunity for you to partner with them. Be sure to follow Plant With Purpose's website, Facebook, and Twitter page!

(Want to write a guest post for Life Before the Bucket?)
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I once asked a friend what part of social justice interested him.

“The justice part,” he responded as his eyebrows narrowed and his chin dropped down a few centimeters, just enough to force him to look down his nose at me with all the condescension of the lawyer he would one day become. Obviously.

“Why, what part interests you?” he countered.

Had the question first been posed to me, I would have answered with illustrative stories about men and women’s lives being transformed, about reconciliation and restoration. I would have named people I knew—Godofredo, Teodora, Grey—whose testimonies made my work at a poverty-fighting organization worthwhile.

Prefaced with his dichotomous answer, I simply responded, “The social part.”

I’ve never really resonated with the smite-the-bad-guys justice mentality; for me, social justice has always been about making people’s lives better—whether through granting access to water, food, healthcare, or, yes, even criminal justice. Social justice creates systems that value human rights—not just the rights to liberty and happiness, but to basic necessities and dignity.

For me, engaging in social justice has always been about people. 

Changing legal systems to protect the vulnerable—it’s about people.

Setting up aftercare facilities for victims of sex trafficking—it’s about people.

Building wells to bring clean water—it’s about people.

Sponsoring a child—it’s about people.

Supporting the homeless in your own community—it’s about people.

Planting trees—it’s about people.

Yes, you read correctly, even planting trees is about people. You see, I am involved in really cool social justice organization that plants trees.

Let me tell you how it works.

For many of the world’s poorest people, their very survival is contingent on the health of their environment.  Of course the same applies to us, but in a much more removed way.  It’s easy to forget that our bottled water actually comes from a stream or our prepackaged food may actually have been grown in this thing called soil. 

Around the world, small farmers, desperate to feed their families, are forced to cut down large areas of forested land, clearing it for farming or to sell as fuel wood.  The resulting erosion and loss of soil fertility leaves entire hillsides desolate and barren.  This entrenches poor farmers in a vicious cycle of poverty and deforestation. 

For these desperate farmers, their “carbon footprint”—or environmental impact— is literally drying up the streams that sustain them, eroding the hillsides they farm for sustenance, and threatening their very survival.  Right now.  Not in twenty years when more ice caps melt and sea levels rise, but now.

We all know trees play an important part in reducing global warming, absorbing harmful CO2 and releasing life-giving oxygen, but the full benefits of trees go much deeper.  Trees’ root systems provide living barriers that prevent soil erosion, replenish the water table, and restore desolate, unproductive lands.  

To the suburbanites and city-dwellers, these may sound like fringe benefits, but to a rural farmer, completely dependent on the land for survival, a tree can be the difference between life and death.  The difference between hope and despair, thriving and barely squeaking by, a better future for their children and a life entrenched in a vicious cycle of extreme poverty and hunger.

When trees are planted alongside crops—a technique called agroforestry—farmers experience all the benefits of trees while also providing nutritious foods and a sustainable income for their families.  For example, Plant With Purpose works with farmers to utilize agroforestry and sustainable farming techniques, empowering them to overcome poverty, provide for their families, live in dignity, and fulfill their greatest dream of all—leaving the world a better place for their children. 

So for me, the excitement of planting trees results when I can see how caring for the environment actually improves the lives of the rural poor: it’s going green meets reducing poverty meets restoring environments meets transforming lives. 

We equip farmers to plant trees—it’s about people.

We teach sustainable agriculture techniques—it’s about people.

We care for the earth—it’s about people.

It’s about people.

This month, Plant With Purpose is the featured cause on Live58.org, an alliance of nonprofits working together to end extreme poverty. As part of the 58: Global Impact Tour, Plant With Purpose is trying to raise $40,000 to plant 90,000 trees in the Dominican Republic that will restore the fruitfulness of the land and provide food for those in need. For the entire month of April, every contribution will be doubled because of a generous matching grant.

Head to the tour page to see how you can plant a tree and transform a life. Today.

And whether you’re into the justice part or the social part, I hope we all strive to live lives that value human rights, restore dignity, and improve the lives of those around us. 

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Questions: What are some of the ways you work to live a life that lends itself toward social justice? Had you ever considered the value of planting a tree as part of social justice? Which part of social justice appeals to you more?

Interested in writing a guest post for Life Before the Bucket? I'm always open to submissions! Just write up a post, or even just an idea, and e-mail it my way!

image, video credits - Plant With Purpose

How I Became God's Basking Case

Note from Adrian: This is the second part of a two-part guest post from Aly Lewis in our Living to the Fullest guest post series. Check out part one, "The Unwelcome Elephant," if you missed it yesterday. And don't forget to leave some love for Aly and follow her on her blog and on Twitter!

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And that was the beginning of the basking. The beginning of a life lived to the full.

This basking is just my way of saying that I learned to accept God’s love for me.

The basking started imperceptibly. A few encouraging words here. A short reprieve from guilt there. Cheeseball alert: then I began writing love letters to a skeptic: myself. Things like,

Aly,

I love you if you work out.
I love you if you don't work out.
I love you if you sweat sweat sweat it out.
I love you if you don't eat enough.
I love you if you eat too much.
I love you if you call mom back.
I love you if you isolate yourself.
I love you if have a productive day at work.
I love you if you sit on Facebook the whole time.
I love you if you're feeling hot.
I love you if you're feeling bored.
I love you if you give to the poor.
I love you if you splurge on a fancy dinner.
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.

It sounds cheesy. It sounds silly. But something REAL began to happen in my heart and my mind as I began to bask in these words of love.

In fits and starts, this Love began to come alive not only in my thoughts and reasonings, but in heart and in my life. “I love you” began to come alive.

And as “I love you” came alive, the elephant began to die. I began to tell myself a better story that allowed me to live like I was loved, like I was forgiven. I became vigilant in my basking, leaving no room for the elephant to trumpet his tauntings in my life.

And only after months of keeping the elephant at bay, did I finally begin to believe that maybe there is a loving God. That maybe it was the God of love who made me free, who was there loving me all along.

That maybe He’s the better story.

You may be thinking, “That’s all well and good for you, Aly, but what about your initial prayer asking to love and serve others better?”

Turns out my church friends who told me to bask knew something I didn’t: I can’t love others if I don’t love myself.

If I had followed God’s greatest commandment “To love others as yourself,” what a disaster that would have been (and believe me, it was.) How could I expect to love others if I went around accusing, attacking, and belittling them like I did myself?

In Margaret Feinberg's book, The Sacred Echo, she explains this transforming power of self-love better than I ever could. She says,

"When God echoes I love you, it’s not a slice of information but a feast of transformation. I am invited to experience the fullness of God’s love in my life, heart, and spirit. The holy metamorphosis is designed to ring so genuine and true that others can’t help but notice. When I love you is alive in my heart, I become freer to love others. When I love you is alive in my mind, I become better at expressing that love. When I love you is alive in my life, I become a smidgen closer to being who God has called and created me to be."

Love for myself made me freer to love others, to serve others, to defend the poor, and be a voice for the voiceless.

One of my friends once said “Self-hatred is a social justice issue,” and I couldn’t agree more. How can I believe the poor are worth anything if I don’t believe I am worth anything?

I really do believe this basking, this experience I've had with God's unconditional, unconventional, unfathomable love, has shaped and formed me to love others better.

It turns out the only antidote to the fear, self-doubt, and condemnation that sneaks in to poison our lives like unwelcome elephants is LOVE. Compassion for ourselves. Grace for ourselves. Which bleeds into grace for others, for a hurting world.

This is the backbone of a life lived to the full. A life lived without an unwelcome elephant.

I’m sure it sounds cliché. I mean, it’s the basis of our faith. You were probably looking for the advanced version, not the Life-to-the-fullest-for-dummies. But I’m a dummy when it comes to getting this spiritual life right. And perhaps this is more for me than for you, but sometimes I just need the reminder that I AM LOVED. That the elephant doesn’t win.

Psalm 34:8 says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

If you want to live a life to the full, taste and see that you are loved. Then slam the door on that greedy little monster’s face, and go (or rather skip) on your merry way, bidding farewell to this unwelcome elephant, unencumbered and free.

Let the basking begin.

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Questions: Were you surprised at how Aly decided to turn into a basking case? What does this look like in your own life? How can loving yourself better (and letting God love you) be a form of social justice?

This guest post was part of a guest post series called "Living to the Fullest." Interested in joining in? I'm still looking for submissions! Just write up a post, or even just an idea, and e-mail it my way!

The Unwelcome Elephant

Note from Adrian: This is a guest post from Aly Lewis, a fellow blogger. Aly is a twenty-something writer from San Diego, CA. When she’s not writing ridiculously witty and yet still thoughtful and inspiring copy for the international non-profit Plant With Purpose, you can find her roller blading, showing off her dope hip hop moves, or overanalyzing her quarter life crisis. 

Aly has a passion for social and ecological justice, anyone who speaks Spanish, and experiencing the God of the unexpected. You can check out her mismatched musings on her blog, Memoirs of Algeisha, or on Twitter!

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The feeling only comes in two sizes: regular - can’t shake this vexing sensation but still able to function, and extra large - paralyzing, life-stopping, all-consuming.

If you allow this unwanted guest to sneak past the bouncer of extra large you can pretty much say hello to an eternity of bumping and grinding with this guy in the nightclub of hell. When he comes looking for you in your modest skirt and smoothed hair, assuming invincibility because you don’t flaunt yourself around like a floozy, you need to stop, drop, and roll off the bus leading you down the one-way highway to the danger zone.

Trust me, you do not want to let this guy anywhere near you, your hopes, your future, your children, even your dog. He will squash your dreams and eat your confidence for breakfast. He will steal your identity and transform you into a small, frightened child. His presence prickles your hair and dries your mouth. With your heart beating like a conga drum, he wraps his icy fingers around your tender throat, daring you to call out his name. But you can’t reveal his identity. You don’t even know who he is.

But I do. He is the unwelcome elephant of fear and self-hatred.

You give him an inch and he’ll take a foot, your leg, your whole body and mind, and your little dog too.

This is not a life to the full.

I used to let this elephant rule my life. I used to tell myself awful stories. Depressing, really. I told myself stories of how dumb I was. How ugly. How boring. How awful. I was never good enough. Even in my relationship with God I wasn’t good enough.

So I left the church. I left it all. What was the point? How was I supposed to love God or love my neighbors if I didn’t love myself?

And I stayed there, angry and encumbered.

Until I became God’s basking case.

No, not basket case, (although I’m sure there’s a hint of that, too). Basking case.

This part of the story starts with a rebuttal.

When I first came back to church, people started asking me if they could pray for me. Most of the time, I said no.

But after awhile, after racking my brain to come up with anything I might like the almighty creator of the universe to help me out with, I finally decided on the one prayer request I felt comfortable asking.

“I’d like to be able to love and serve others better,” I mumbled more to my feet than to anyone in particular.

And the response?

“No, that is not what you should pray for.”

Excuse me?

Since when does a prayer request have to pass quality control? When I was a junior high youth leader we'd pray for students' sick fish, cats, and Nano babies. No prayer was too big or too small.

But the congregation had spoken: I was not to pray to serve others better.

“I have an image for you instead,” they said--they all said, different people on different occasions. All with the same image, the same concept. The same Instead...

Instead they all had an image of me basking in God's love.

One couple told me, "Aly, you are beautiful. I see you lying in a meadow. Soaking in God's love."

Another woman (on a separate occasion) told me: "I see a picture of you in a field of flowers, basking in God's love."

Another person straight up told me, "No, I don't think you should pray to love others. I believe you need to bask in God's love."

The first time I heard this, I scoffed.

The second time I heard this, I scoffed.

The third time I heard this, I started to get nervous.

Basking, really? That’s about the sissiest verb I’ve ever heard and somehow everyone in this church is obsessed with it.

I didn't want images of soaking and basking and laying lazily in a field of wild flowers. I wanted to help people. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted my god to care about injustice and oppression. I wanted my god to help me love others better, to quiet the guilt in my heart for being born to a well-off family in the wealthiest country in the world.

If you're going to give me an image, I thought, let it be of selling all I have and giving it to the poor. An image of writing award winning exposés that shut down sweat shops and bring justice to the marginalized around the world. An image of revolution. Of anger. Of action.

That's not what my church friends had for me. And it's not what God had for me either.

Check back tomorrow for Part Two of Aly's story!

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Questions: Does being God's basking case sound "sissy" to you? How would you react if someone told you that you should focus on basking in his love? Do you struggle with the unwanted elephant that Aly describes?

This guest post was part of a guest post series called "Living to the Fullest." Interested in joining in? I'm still looking for submissions! Just write up a post, or even just an idea, and e-mail it my way.