By Joe Rector
My brother Jim is a good man. He teases with folks, and sometimes he almost sounds hateful when he talks, just like our daddy did. Underneath that facade is a kind, loving and giving person. He had this experience recently, and I thought nothing I could say would be as equal to what Jim is saying in this piece. I’m proud of him for being able to open up and share this epiphany. I’ll catch up next week. -Joe
Hello Reader,
I have a story to tell, and my wonderful brother is allowing me to use his column to share it with you. So, here we go!
I’ve been mowing the greens at a local golf course for many years. I begin each day well before dawn, and I find that it is time for thinking and reflecting on life. One particular morning, things started out as usual but were immediately transformed into something quite disturbing. I suddenly heard what sounded like the cries of a baby, but the sound of this crying did not match any I had ever heard before. The sound of this crying was filled with pain and despair, with nothing to console the child. I looked around to search for the direction of the child. Then, I suddenly realized that my mind was the home of this sound.
Almost immediately, I envisioned the child being held by its mother. The child’s eyes were filled with tears, and its body trembled. Its stomach was distended, and there was little flesh around its exposed limbs. As I watched and listened, the poor child’s crying slowly turned into a whimper as its eyes closed. However, this child was not asleep. Mercifully, the baby died.
I say mercifully because the child’s life had been one of constant hunger. No amount of crying would provide food. Day after day, this sweet baby faced misery and starvation. Each night, the child cried itself to sleep, only to face another day of want and need. Only hopelessness and despair were assured. In God’ care, this child would finally be nourished and restored.
The sudden awareness of that had crushed me. I sat on my mower in the darkness before dawn and cried for quite some time. I could not shake the thoughts and visions that my mind had produced. Knowing that there was no escape for this child and that each day was a day of suffering haunted me. Then, out of the blue, came the words, “DO SOMETHING!” I tried to ignore the words, but they kept echoing in my head. I have a theory on where these all came from, but I’ll keep that to myself.
I finally made an attempt to address those words. I had been saving money to buy a new set of golf clubs. I decided that donating the money would appease the voice in my head. Wrong! “DO MORE” was the next message that came to me. I weighed various grand schemes to raise money for starving children everywhere, but none seemed to be within my power. Then, I thought of Joe’s column and things clicked. It is the perfect forum to share my story.
Now I’ve completed my story. After you read this, I want you to do one thing, please. Find a quiet place and sit down. Stay very still and listen for the cries of that starving child. Try to imagine the suffering that this small child is enduring. Then, ask yourself if there is anything you can do to improve the situation. What you decide is between you and your conscience. No one will sit in judgement on your decision. Just listen … and follow your heart. Thank you for reading my story.
