Another brown bag.

Hello again guys.  Hope you've had a great week so far, and that you're learning new things and growing every day.

I have another story to share with you, and it's about one of those moments when I stopped and said, "I am living in South Africa."

Diana and I go out to a primary school (preschool through Grade 07) on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  We work with kids in Grades 06 and 07 - the kids are ages 12-14, some are 15.  Their teacher gave them a spelling test in English - their first language is Afrikaans - and if they got less than half right on the test, they come to us to be tutored.  So basically, we're teaching the worst kids.  Because they are having trouble in school, they act up and get in trouble with the teacher, which makes them not want to learn.  You throw that in with the type of environment they are in, and it is a dangerous combination.  

The school is so broken down.  Most of the windows have been shattered by people breaking in.  Those people take everything that is worth anything - some of the classrooms don't have light bulbs, the bathrooms don't have pipes in them, the metal in the ceiling that holds the tiles in place is gone.  It is so sad that people are desperate enough to break into a school - a place that is purely beneficial for the community and its future - and destroy it.  The school is in such bad shape that it has an effect on the students.  When they do poorly on exams, the government won't give the school money to fix what is broken, which keeps it broken, which keeps the kids doing badly.  It's illogical, it's frustrating, it's real.  And some days, it's hard to be there.

The kids are so interested in Diana and I.  They want to hear us talk, they want to touch our hair and skin, they want us to take their pictures.  They are starving for attention, because they don't get it at home.  We're trying to form bonds and make relationships with these kids - especially the young girls - and I think we're making a lot of progress.

One girl, Allison, had a birthday not too long ago.  So I made her a birthday card and we bought her a little bar of chocolate (it cost less than one American dollar).  The teacher later told us that that was the only thing that Allison got for her birthday.  But here's the cool thing - her grandma's birthday was the next day, and she gave the chocolate to her grandma.  The grandma then shared it with her, and they both got a little chocolate for their birthday.

It meant something so much to both of them, and it cost us less than a dollar.

How often do we share what we have?  How often do we give, even when it means sacrifice?  How often do we see that when we give, God finds a way to return the gift?  Do we remember these things?  Do we do these things instead of just talking about them?  Do we see opportunities to give?

I know that every time I see a cheap piece of candy, I'll remember Allison and how she gave what she had.  I'll remember how easy it is to do something so small.  I'll remember how something so small can mean a whole lot, when you least expect it to.

Hope this has caused you to think some.  Keep your eyes and ears open for opportunities to give this week.  Love you guys!  You're still being prayed for.

-Tara.