There’s something hard about volunteering for a group of people on the other side of the ocean- you don’t get to hold their hands and you don’t get to look into their eyes. You don’t learn their names or hear them laugh. But you still you made a difference in their lives and they in yours.
For me, this all turns around when I receive a package in the mail a few weeks after each distribution. I hold the pictures in my hand of the children whose lives we impacted.
They have distended stomachs and dirty clothing. Often there are stains and tares on their prized school uniforms. Many of them look into the camera with wide frightened eyes. In their rural village they have never seen a camera before. Some look back into the camera with pride. They walk themselves to school. They striving towards education, so why shouldn’t they be proud? Others look into the lens with gratitude; they realize the importance and gravity of the nets. They look into the camera, but, as is customary in their culture, they show pressed lips, no smile. Then there are those who cannot contain themselves. They forget their fear of the foreign machine. They forget their customs. They cannot help it. They seem to realize how much hard work has culminated in this moment. They seem to know these nets will protect them from a terrible disease. They seem to realize how these nets are concrete proof of how love exists between people who have never met, how love transcends distance. They beam at the camera.
Holding each picture in my hands shows me that there are no boundaries and although it sometimes takes a leap of faith, helping those children is worthwhile.
Not only worthwhile, but extremely rewarding.
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