Mary Is A Little Lamb...

I sponsor a little girl in Kenya named Mary Paranai through the Compassion International organization. I've written letters to her, and yesterday, I got a letter from her! I was so excited!

It's a little activity sheet that she filled out, with the help of a translator. She talks about what she wants to be when she grows up (a Provincial Commissioner), she talks about her friends, her family, how she likes to jump rope, and more.

It is so sweet to actually be able to look at these pencil lines, feel the paper, and be reminded of how real she is, and not just some distant face across the continents. She has real needs, real dreams, and real struggles.

The only difference between Mary and the children you and I encounter here in our little bubble-town of Wilmington is geography. Location, location, location. Had Mary been born here, she would have had the proper nutrition, food, health care, schooling, and endless fun that every child should have. But instead she was born in a country where nutritious meals are a luxury, schooling is a privilege reserved for few, and where children---instead of running free on playgrounds---must obtain some kind of occupation to help support their family, must constantly be on guard for their safety, and are lucky if there is a cot somewhere for them to rest at night.

America is so blessed, and yet we continue to whine on and on. Nothing is enough for us. We are a nation stoked by greed, and an attitude of entitlement. Myself included. I want the American dream. I whine about my salary. When I get up in the morning, I look at a closet full of clothes and "hate" them all. I not only have enough food to feed myself, but two dogs also. I am blessed. We are blessed. But it's not enough for us.

But all it takes is one letter from Mary, and I am snapped back into the global reality. One sheet full of pencil marks and connect-the-dots, and suddenly, everything I own seems a luxury. A blessing. Everything seems too much, too good for me when I know there is this sweet child, covered by God's grace and love, who has nothing. How can I not help her? How can we not help them all?