One to Another
I was in Cambodia last summer, walking through the city
streets jam-packed with people. The humidity was so high I
could hardly breath. The noise-horns honking, police
whistles screaming at cars and people, and just the rumbles
of people all going about their days was so loud my head
hurt. I looked around and asked myself, "Why exactly had I
come?" I was ready to return home.
With this thought on my mind, I looked down and noticed a
small boy at my side, trying as best as he could to keep up
with my stride. His shirt was as tattered and as dirty as
his shorts. His battered sandals were tied to his feet by
frayed chords. But it was his face that looked the most
worn: He looked to be a very weary old soul, a boy far older
than his years.
I have never known poverty, hunger or despair, but something
about this young boy told me he was no stranger to these
things. I stopped, and he quickly ran in front of me, and
began to beg for some food. He was so gaunt and frail, even
sickly. I wondered when he had eaten his last meal. With
eyes pleading, he offered up a faint smile. My heart went
out to him. I wondered if there was anyone who loved him, or
if he was homeless as so many children here were. Though
there was a small spark of hope in his eyes, I wondered how
much-if any-joy or laughter was his. Hoping akin to begging,
the small boy put his thin hands together, as if to say, "I
pray you will help me." It made me wonder if he knew of the
"peace that passes all understanding." He was such a young
boy, a little boy in desperate need of so much. Surely I
could help him. I decided to begin by talking about God's
love. After all, it was what I had come here with a group of
youth to do: help these children learn of God's love. He
walked along side of me until I reached my destination, a
large military hospital. From the appearance of this
building, one could easily mistake it for a garbage dump.
The walls were peeling and trash was piled high on all sides
of the building. I stood in disbelief as my eyes took in
more than my heart could handle. Malnourished children, some
of them very sick, struggled to keep their place in line so
as to receive a small portion of soup for the day.
The boy, his hand in mine, stood looking at this dismal
scene of poverty, loss, pain and suffering, and then looked
to me as though I would somehow make it all go away. I was
overwhelmed. I couldn't make it go away; in fact, I felt
paralyzed from just seeing it all. Worse, I wanted to go
away. But I had come here with a mission. And in that
moment, I wanted more than anything to speak their language
and to somehow show the love that compelled me to travel
across the world, to share the message of God. But then
doubt assailed me: Who was I to come to this abused and
strife-filled land with words of hope? Somehow the Gospel
takes on new meaning in such a setting. Either the Gospel is
everything, truly having the power to heal the broken
hearted, or it can seem like a luxury-which for a fleeting
moment crossed my mind as being true for this setting. Here
food and water ranked first in terms of dire needs. I felt
so helpless. I wanted to talk about God, but how could I? I
was so young and there were so many hungry and sick people
who needed food and medicine. I didn't even speak their
language. Instead of praying for them, I stood in
frustration and prayed for wisdom and understanding for me
-- which came in the squeeze on my hand. I looked down into
the big brown eyes of the little boy whom I had befriended.
He pointed to the soup line in the far corner of the
hospital where sick children stood patiently waiting for
their daily meal. The boy was famished, possibly even
starving to death, but the food was for the children who
were sick, and not just hungry. I watched as the little boy
looked on, longing for a bowl of soup.
I pulled from my bag a sandwich I had brought for my lunch,
and gave it to him. Then, I sat down and placed him in my
lap so he could feel secure. The boy rested his head on my
shoulder and began to eat. Then, we noticed a tiny
malnourished girl watching us, a little soul too frail to
get up and join in the soup line. Instantly, the boy got up
out of my lap and went to her, and then, sitting
cross-legged in front of her, he fed her the remaining
sandwich he had.
One starving child feeding another.
It was a life-changing moment.
My intention had been to teach of God's love. Instead, I was
shown it. I was student that day; not the teacher. It was on
that day that two little children showed me the essence of
God's love: serving each other. It wasn't about good deeds,
but rather, serving and caring for each other. I was taught
this not by an eloquent sermon, but by two little hungry
children turned out in the streets of Cambodia, children who
knew how to be God's love for each other. It was an action
I'll never ever forget, one that filled me with humility,
serenity and strength, too. Watching the little boy's
instinctual sharing gave me a newfound love and respect for
all people, and gave me greater courage to have empathy for
all people.
I am forever grateful for that trip-for the little boy who
tugged at my hand and heart that day showed me a deeper
meaning of love than I had ever experienced. For sure, that
day changed my concept of love -- and how we can best
witness to others God's love for all his children.
Kate Harmon, 18
(From the Taste Berries for Teens book series co-authored by
Bettie B. Youngs and Jennifer Leigh Youngs)
Bettie B. Youngs
bettie@tasteberriesforteens.com
_______________________
Bettie B. Youngs, Ph.D., Ed.D. is a former teacher of the
year, former university professor and the author of 21
books. With her daughter Jennifer Leigh Youngs she has
co-authored the best-selling Taste Berries for Teens series.
Bettie has appeared frequently on CNN, NBC Nightly News, and
Oprah. Jennifer is a speaker and workshop presenter for
teens nationwide.
Be sure to visit their website at:
http://www.tasteberriesforteens.com