The few we have

3:35 PM

She is six and a half and for a year now she'd be living on the streets.

I look around me as I run around town, stopping to catch my breath at the thought. How would she survive? What would she do all day long? How would she eat? Where would she sleep? Would she cry to herself every night? How would she fend off evil people trying to take advantage of her? Would anyone care?

I know the answers. She would spend the days hungry and the nights being cold. When she is sick there would be no one to caress her head. There is little chance she would survive life without becoming a drug addict or exploited for sex. There is little chance she would survive at all.

Sometimes I think about it and tears fill my eyes.

When Principe showed me the video from youtube he raised his eyebrows at my tears. I am not a cryer. Never have been.

But five years old and homeless? Somehow he survived, but you can tell from his demeanor that he is a bit of a shell. I wonder how he did it. I think of what he must have gone through and seen during his ten years as a child on the street. I want to write his story and then read the lines over and over again in order to remember. I want to give him a hug and adopt him even though he is now an adult.

"You will always have the poor" Jesus said. It always sounded a bit...cheeky to me, honestly. But I think he must have said it with a shake of his head as he watched this selfish human race dash about their daily lives. It is a shame that in this day and age we certainly still do have the poor. And that is because Christians sit around and talk about how much they would give to the poor "if they won the lottery" or "if they get that big pay raise". What is worse is when they talk about how much someone else should be giving to the poor.

All of this talk, talk, talk instead of giving the few dollars they could set aside now. I wonder how many dollars it would have taken for that boy to eat every day. Probably not many.

I look at Queenie now and then I image her as a scared little six year old hunched over on a dirty, cold city street crying with fear at the big world around her. And I wonder how many are actually out there. Too many. More than the number of tears that swell our motherly eyes as we hear such stories. Too many for this age of technology. Just think if we would find a charity we liked and gave the few dollars we could put aside. Just those few, but consistently. Couldn't we make the world a better place?


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