Reason #162

I got a letter in the mail today. Hand written, my favorite kind. On April 14 my mom and I went to a concert. I had been having a tough weekend. The Lord knew how much I needed to be at that concert, and not only for myself either. During intermission, one of the artists shared with us about World Vision. They showed a video and I cried my eyes out. I knew the Lord was asking me to do this. I knew He was laying on my heart to sponsor a child. Sometimes, I forget that I'm an adult and can do these things. Sometimes, I forget that I have a job and an income. Sometimes, I am just plain selfish and oblivious. But He reminded me of those things that evening and so I found myself standing in front of the World Vision table scanning over hundreds of cards with children's faces on the front of them. See, that weekend, I was being controlled by a fear. A fear that my desires might not be met. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a mother. I figured by this point in life I'd have a child, a little being of my own. Preferably a girl, too. And the enemy had been using that against me all weekend. Finding that sore spot and poking at it, irritating it. But I don't have a child. I may not have one anytime soon if ever, but that night, the Lord reminded me that I could still be used in the life of a child, even if it wasn't mine. I could still make a difference. He has blessed me with so much, and He reminded me that "to whom much is given, much is required." (Luke 12:48) And my heart broke for these little ones. Just babies. Babies who don't get to enjoy their childhood like I did. Babies who live in horrifying conditions. Babies who are hungry, dirty, maybe even unloved and unwanted. But maybe not. Maybe these little ones have great parents. Parents who love them and protect them, but parents who can't provide for them. And then there's me. I was a baby who had an ideal childhood. One who was loved for a cared for. One who didn't know what it felt like to have true hunger pains because I had parents who could provide for, protect and shelter me. And although I'm not a parent, I figure I can step in the gap and help provide and bless others because I have been abundantly blessed.

So I stood at the table not even sure of who to pick. I wanted to pick each one and would have if I could. I figured I'd choose a little girl. I'd find a sweet one with long hair that would look precious pulled back in a big bow. A little girl whose life might be changed because of my pocket change. Most little girls aren't appreciated in many countries. I wanted one to know that she was appreciated and loved and thought of by someone. But as I looked through the cards, he caught my eye. A sweet face with big brown eyes. Four years old. Just a baby! And I kept going back to his card again and again. I decided this was the one I would choose. This little guy, from Jerusalem. A little boy who grew up in the home town of my Savior. A little guy who walks the same dusty road the Messiah walked down thousand of years ago. And I wondered if he even knew. Did he realize where he lived? Did he realize that he and Jesus Christ are from the same place?

I got my first letter from him today. Little T, that's what I'll call him. I eagerly opened it, as I have been anxiously awaiting my first letter from him. And this is how Little T started his letter.

Dear sponsor,

I'm very happy because you chose me...

And I lost it. I stood in my kitchen and I wept. And even as I type, tears are still streaming down my face. "I am happy because you chose me." Well, I'm happy that I chose you too, Little T.

As those salty tears rolled down my face, I was just speechless. Overwhelmed. Because I thought about how much little T and I have in common already. 20 years age difference really doesn't matter sometimes. Sweet little T, glad he was chosen by me. My heart ached that he even felt like he had to thank me for that, to thank me for choosing him. And my heart was heavy because I realize how ungrateful I am. How self-absorbed and self-seeking I am. A simple thank you is something I so often forget to do. And sometimes, when the Lord provides, rather than thanking Him, I get mad because I wanted Him to do it differently.

Little T's words pierced my calloused heart, so I stopped and I smiply thanked the Lord for choosing me. For picking me out from the start. And I told Him I was happy that He did. And I praised Him for choosing me to be a part of Little T's life. For providing for me and then allowing me the opportunity to share with someone else. Because the truth is, God doesn't need my pocket change to make a difference in Little T's life. God doesn't need my help to provide for Little T and meet his every need.

For the Lord has chosen Jerusalem;
he has desired it for his home.
“This is my resting place forever,” he said.
“I will live here, for this is the home I desired.

 I will bless this city and make it prosperous;
I will satisfy its poor with food.

Psalm 132:13-15

But He chose me to help. To make a difference in the life of a little boy with big brown eyes. A little boy who isn't mine, but a little boy who has also been chosen from the start.

Chosen. It's easy to forget sometimes. It's easy to seek that out from others. But really, we were all chosen. Chosen for a reason, chosen to a purpose, and chosen by the One who always chooses to love us even when we forget to thank Him for it.

#162 - Little T.

"Remember me, Lord, when you show favor to your people; come near and rescue me. Let me share in the prosperity of your chosen ones. Let me rejoice in the joy of your people; let me praise you with those who are your heritage." - Psalm 106:4-5

Maybe He's choosing you to make a difference in the life of one of His chosen, too. Little T isn't the only one. http://www.worldvision.org/