IT WAS ONE OF MY I-LOVE-TO-HAVE-people-over-for-no-reason parties. Our friends inviting their friends, and so on. A woman I’d never met before pointed to my refrigerator.
“You fell for that?” she asked, with a mouth full of guacamole.
“Excuse me?”
She pointed to the photos of two Ugandan kids: a girl, Omega, and a boy, Alonis. AR212 and GR479. My husband, Brice, and I sponsored them through an organization called ARM (Africa Renewal Ministries). We thought it was important to teach our son, Blake, five, and daughter, Brooke, two, about giving. “You’re very fortunate,” we’d remind them. “Some children, like Omega and Alonis, don’t have food or clean water, so we are helping them.” It seemed like the right thing for us to do.
“How do you know that those kids…