I Sponsored a Child

I always have grandiose dreams. No, not just slaying monsters in the dark, but legit. dreams like running an orphanage. Reading George Mueller's account of running an orphanage powered by faith can be exciting when you're pint-sized. Miracles are magical. Or becoming a missionary in the deep, dangerous jungle of Indonesia, for instance. They all promise challenge and excitement and above all--I'm saving the world.

My dreams gave way to calls of running an everyday life. Schoolwork, chores, worrying about acne and boys (adolescence can be downright nitty-gritty) and then very quickly--work with all its deadlines and schedules--become the fabric of a humdrum life. Day in, day out--clock in, clock out. The magic slips away and I don't even notice. My grandeur dreams seem a tiny flicker in the world of "do this, and now, you need to do that."

Sure, commercials about rag-clad kids sitting in mud huts appear on the silver screen. They all want financial support. I feel a flicker of compassion but still, it's too commercial for my liking. I never did lift up a phone. The problem seems to exist inside the screen, boxed in and so far away.

Last Sunday, I went to church and a representative from World Vision was there. Spread out on the tables were brochures of many children--trapped in their sorry world, deprived of basic necessities, living on trash and polluted air.

Their faces implore:

"I've nothing and you've everything."

"You're thinking of what to eat for lunch and I've not eaten in 3 days."

"You go home to air-conditioning and slouching in front of the TV, while I walk 5 miles to get water and look after 3 siblings."

It was too much, and the reality was too stark when you're staring at these beautiful kids.

A little girls entreats me--a severe look of deprivation is evident in those deep-set eyes and her mouth speaks of a life raised on the severe cold of the mountainous region of Ningxia Province, China.

My daughter asks, "Why does she look so unhappy?"

I know the answer--life has been tough and there's seem no way out, stuck in a family of poor farmers. If life consists of chores, and foraging for food each day--maybe, we'll all be looking like this.

I picked up her profile and went home and filled up to be a sponsor.

I never felt happier, knowing the little that I have to contribute will send her to school, give her food and good hygiene.

Maybe dreams can come true in small measures and who knows? Maybe, with time, I may sponsor one more and one more and come close to fulfilling my childhood dream helping kids.

Call a Plumber

I was cooking when I heard a loud stutter--like a machine choked on some major electric snag. Ch-chock-ch-ch... It was loud and dull and decidedly worrying.

I hollered to my son, "Aaron, did you make that noise?"

I imagine his head perpetually parked in front of the computer, laughing at some sillies on Youtube, as he is often caught doing.

"Not me," he hollered back, "it's coming from somewhere outside."

Somewhere outside? My mom-trained ears told me it's not quite.

Anyhow, I continued cooking, after all, there are hungry mouths waiting.

Once my task was done, I knew I needed to investigate this mysterious sound. In the meantime, my son who is nearer to the source, continued with his computer staring. Sometimes, I wonder, how do you tune out when the loud noise is choking away? A teenager can.

I followed the noise and it was coming from the stairways. As I walked up, I could feel the vibrations. The flight of stairs was convulsing with a steady rhythm. My hands bounced like Richter needles when I placed them on the stairs.

Why are my stairs shaking uncontrollably? Call 911? Rapture? The whole thing is going to explode? My mind went through a whole gamut of possibilities.

What did I do? I called my husband, of course. He had no clue!

In the meantime, there are a knock and my neighbor was standing outside.

"Do you know water is gushing out of your yard?"

Who could have thought of this correlation: Tremors on your stairs = a gash in your water pipes?

So, there, we pinpointed the problem. Our neighbor was not only saintly, he knew a thing or two about burst pipes. He shut off the water pump.

The house quiet down, like a rowdy school boy bought under control. Just like that--it's almost magical, except the magic was lost on me when I was told that there would be no water in the house.

How's one to survive without water? Call the plumber, quick. Except, it's now 8 o'clock in the night and some people could be calling it a night.

We called the plumber anyway, there are emergency plumbers, we know. One said, sorry, got to keep his family happy--he's done for the day. We called a number of them and finally one said, "yes."

We couldn't be more thankful. A plumber is on his way to save our lifestyle, to give us the gift of water, without which we would never to be able to survive the night. I can't imagine a toilet full of bodily waste, a sink full of dishes, hands full of germs, mouths not touched by night-time toothbrushes. Well, it's unthinkable.

Which got me thinking--how we have allowed life's little interruptions to throw us off. So pampered with life's conveniences, so spoiled with modern technology. We expect. We need. We want, We're entitled.

The water leak was not fixed--the plumber couldn't fix our problem. Impeded by darkness, lack of pumping parts and the unearthly hour of the night, he called it off.

There were moans that night but we survived on water bottles, used sparingly, like it's gold and we learned something--we can make do, if life demands it.