My middle son has recently become very fascinated with building and setting live traps. Since he was very young Logan has been catching and categorizing creepy crawlies of all shapes and sizes. (It’s no surprise that the lizard pillow is Logan’s design. To know him it would make perfect sense why he picked bright yet soft green fabric, tassels, and a shimmery gecko with the tooth pocket cleverly tucked underneath the lizard tummy. Totally Logan).
So most recently Logan designed and made 2 sizes of traps that have been strategically placed on our property with the help of his supportive younger brother, Spencer. Every day has been an adventure as the two check and often find Logan’s engineering has paid off with something else that has taken the bait.
Meanwhile, I (very much a girl) try to carry on the responsibilities of wife, mom, house manager, and entrepreneur. Sometimes the balancing act goes quite smoothly, some days it’s a complete disaster.
This particular day I had received an anticipated business call of a serious nature. As I answered the phone with a professional tone, I was thinking, “Perfect, the boys are outside engrossed in some boy activity and the house is quiet. No problem.” No longer had I finished the thought, then the door burst open, 2 boys come loudly running toward me and a trap is shoved in my face with a live rat peering out at me. Unbelievably, I didn’t scream. Instead, I began frantically yet silently waving them outside with their newfound treasure.
The next 30 minutes is a bit of a traumatic haze. As I was desperately trying to formulate coherent thoughts and be an effective communicator, the door would fly open with an update. My youngest, Spencer, had deduced that he was not to make any noise – so a ridiculous series of charades would ensue filling me in visually on all the ratty activity.
My phone conversation/business meeting was coming to a close as literally, a drowned rat in a Ziploc bag, was once again shoved in my face and presented as some sort of sick trophy. Apparently Logan and Spencer had won the battle.
Which brings me to the realization once again that multi-tasking has taken on a very different reality than it did in my tidy office. Crazy? Absolutely. Would I trade it? Some days I might consider it, but no. This crazy is what I signed up for and I will embrace it, drowned rat and all.

I was introduced to Ramatu through Jan Haynes of Point Hope. Jan has made frequent trips to the Buduburam Camp and has come to know Ramatu well. “She is just an incredible person,” said Jan, “She radiates contentment. She is such a delight.”

Ramatu not only pursued training – and gathered women to be trained with her -but she then developed this community of women into a business. They secured a place to work, and with the support of Point Hope, were able to secure water for their batiking, and more recently, an electric sewing machine that allows them to do a more varied stitch pattern than there hand-crank sewing machine.

With income they just received from an order, the group of women chose to keep their money in a pool and purchase an embroidery machine that would allow them to produce a higher quality product. Considering the many necessities (food, for example) the women could have secured, the choice to purchase an embroidery machine shows an incomprehensible vision and determination to create a sustainable, long-term income.

This is where Sorrisi and Ramatu intersect. Ramatu and friends are now producing the soon-to-be-released Buduburam Tooth Fairy Pillow – from dying the fabric that is used in the pillow, to the embroidery and seamstress work required in the production. Sorrisi is their first “official” business order, and one that I’m hoping will sustain them for quite some time.

As you can imagine, there are many challenges in being the “first” anything – challenges I’ll address in later blogs. But back to the focal point. Ramatu. She overcame the shame and stigma to pursue getting much-needed medical treatment. She overcame insurmountable odds and received training in a trade. She surrounded herself with a community of women, became an entrepreneur, and is providing for herself and her family.

Ramatu is an amazing woman who’s God DOES accomplish amazing things.

(P.S. Ramatu’s husband came back around and decided it wasn’t so bad being her husband after all. Hmmm.)

Have you ever been in a season of life where you couldn’t make heads from tails? Where obstacles seemed insurmountable and inspiration was non-existent?
In those days, weeks, or months, I want to encourage you to remember a woman named Ramatu. She has certainly come to my mind on a number of occasions when challenges seemed to be the norm.

Ramatu has lived at the Buduburam Refugee Camp in Ghana since 1999, fleeing there from her home country of Sierra Leone. Not only had her country been ravaged, but Ramatu was as well. As a result of the violence, Ramatu sustained long-term and disabling injury. To further the loss, Ramatu’s husband was ashamed of her, and chose to leave her – taking with him any income and earning potential she and her children had. Loss of country, home, health, marriage, and income. For many of us, this would be more than we could bear.
Ramatu, however, is a woman of amazing character, who believes in a big God who can accomplish amazing things.

Ramatu knew she needed to learn a trade so she could have a sustainable income. She desperately wanted to provide food, shelter, and medicine for herself and her children, and so she began asking the camp manager for assistance. Ramatu was persistent, and eventually she was sent to the social worker, who in 2008 finally connected her with Chris from Point Hope.
Chris took this request seriously, and not long after their meeting Ramatu was told to meet a red bus at 6:30 a.m. the next morning to take her to the nearest market area for training. Ramatu gathered a group of women to join her, and the next morning they eagerly waited to see if their dreams might become reality.  “I didn’t know if it was true,” said Ramatu, “but when the red bus came I was jumping, and crying, and praising God.”

Not even sure where she was going, Ramatu and her friends were taken to a “school” for hand crafted items where they were taught how to batik fabrics (a special dying process), how to embroider, and do seamstress work.  Ramatu completed the training, and she and her friends have been selling items at the market for the past couple years.

But this is just the beginning for Ramatu. In my next blog, see how Ramatu’s determination continues as her story becomes a part of the next chapter in Sorrisi’s story!