Sunday, May 3, 2009


The Compassion Bloggers have been in India this week. Just as with their trips to Uganda and the Dominican Republic, I've followed their blogs closely, learned much, and been overwhelmed by what I've seen through their eyes.

The other day, I was working at a family's house and happened to glance out at the backyard, where the children themselves had built a playhouse. It's a sight... uneven boards nailed up wherever a child happened to place them, and nothing but holes for a door and windows. But it's serviceable. It's just a playhouse, after all.

But the thought crossed my mind as I saw it: This little kid-built shack looks very similar to the homes in these impoverished communities where Compassion kids live. What, in my eyes, is a shoddy playhouse, would be in their eyes, a home.

And then I read about a little girl in India named Kiran, and saw pictures of and read descriptions of the home she shares with her family of five. It's 4' x 6'.

Stop for a moment and really think about those dimensions. Picture it. Their entire house is smaller than my BED.

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around that one. Try to imagine five people even sitting in the house at one time, let alone sleeping there. (The girl explained that some of them sleep out on the street since there's not room for them all to lie down.) The girl's mother makes $15 a month cleaning homes. $15 a MONTH.

And I thought it was bad that the family of my little Rebecca in Uganda makes about $1 a day. That's twice the amount that this other little girl's family makes.

Just last week, I complained that my two "kid bedrooms" are so small. They may be small by my standards, but to these girls, just one of these bedrooms that looks SO tiny to me is bigger than their entire home.

And while I sit in my enormous-to-them home and complain about my "tiny" rooms while sleeping in a bed that is bigger than some people's entire house, do you know what my little 6-year-old Rebecca is doing? Based on what she wrote me in her last letter, she sits in her Ugandan hut and prays for God to triple my income so that I can come to see her.

A child whose family makes $1 a day is praying for God to triple MY income.

There are no words to describe the thoughts and feelings this knowledge brings.

I read the following quotation on a couple of different blogs this weekend:

“Sometimes I would like to ask God why He allows poverty, suffering, and injustice when He could do something about it.”

“Well, why don’t you ask Him?”

“Because I’m afraid He would ask me the same question.”

I'm doing something about it for Staurin, Angie, Milton, Marsabi, and Rebecca, my five wonderful Compassion children. But it still just doesn't seem enough. I can't sponsor any more right now myself, but maybe I can find others who can.

So... want to sponsor a child?

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