On my recent trip to China, Cambodia, Thailand and Burma, I was overcome by the tremendous issues facing the peoples of South East Asia; particularly the children. The plight of many boys and girls who are being sold into the sex trade along with the all too common challenges of poverty, HIV/AIDS, and hunger. And,in addition to these daily challenges they are living in countries and communities where Christians are less than 1% of the population. In short, this was probably the most difficult trip that I have experienced in my travels and ministry with World Orphans. I was very, very, thankful when the Lord brought me back home safely to be with my wife and kids. One of the hardest parts of my ministry is being away from my family.
Today my 6th grade daughter Veronica handed me a poem that she had entered in her school poetry contest. After reading it I was given a sense of peace in knowing that my daughters heart is being shaped by the life God has me living. I'd like to share her poem and the explanation she submitted for writing it.
Today my 6th grade daughter Veronica handed me a poem that she had entered in her school poetry contest. After reading it I was given a sense of peace in knowing that my daughters heart is being shaped by the life God has me living. I'd like to share her poem and the explanation she submitted for writing it.
Red Sun Rising:
the Orphan's way of life in Kenya
Beneath the blood read sun I can see tears fall like a small blue gem as it makes it's way across his face, leaving small streaks on his mud creased cheeks.
Hope, like the fiery orange sun, is setting on his chances to find a cure. Even in his ragged clothes he understands as much as we do. His mother and brother are slowly fading away and will soon be just a memory.
Soon they will die, and he will have to scavenge on his own. When that time comes he will not remember how to hug or what it feels like to be wanted.
And not long after he will be an outcast. He will sniff the glue offered by drug dealers to keep sorrow and neglect far from his mind. He thinks his life is all for survival and he regrets that he was born into such a terrible world.
As he shuffles around the trash heap trying to find food, the blood red sun starts to rise and so does his hope.
the Orphan's way of life in Kenya
Beneath the blood read sun I can see tears fall like a small blue gem as it makes it's way across his face, leaving small streaks on his mud creased cheeks.
Hope, like the fiery orange sun, is setting on his chances to find a cure. Even in his ragged clothes he understands as much as we do. His mother and brother are slowly fading away and will soon be just a memory.
Soon they will die, and he will have to scavenge on his own. When that time comes he will not remember how to hug or what it feels like to be wanted.
And not long after he will be an outcast. He will sniff the glue offered by drug dealers to keep sorrow and neglect far from his mind. He thinks his life is all for survival and he regrets that he was born into such a terrible world.
As he shuffles around the trash heap trying to find food, the blood red sun starts to rise and so does his hope.
'The reason for writing this poem is to shed some light on the people of the world. I want everyone to know of the rugged way of life for the kids of Kenya who grow up as orphans. I personally know a lot about Kenya because I've been on two mission trips to Nairobi. I will be going back another time in June.
In 2006, I helped fund a well that pumps fresh water to the boys at an orphanage called the Fountain of Life. I helped out at a clinic where Kenyans could just walk in and if they wanted, they could be tested for HIV/AIDS. I'm very fond of the people of Kenya and I have many vivid memories of what I did in Africa.
In 2006, I helped fund a well that pumps fresh water to the boys at an orphanage called the Fountain of Life. I helped out at a clinic where Kenyans could just walk in and if they wanted, they could be tested for HIV/AIDS. I'm very fond of the people of Kenya and I have many vivid memories of what I did in Africa.
This poem is a memory of when my dad interviewed one of the boys at the Fountain of Life children' home. This is the boy's life story about his mother and brother who both died of HIV/AIDS and malaria. This boy was abandoned at a young age. He had to sort through the trash and only eat enough to barely cling to life. As he grew older, drug dealers gave him a bottle of glue to sniff. When he sniffed it he wouldn't feel bad about begging for food. He was just barely surviving when one morning he was rescued and taken in by the Fountain of Life church. There he was given food, shelter, education, and most importantly, love.
He has lived at Fountain of Life for many years and will soon be old enough to live on his own and make a way for himself. As you can see, this isn't just another poem from my imagination. This is a true story of hope, strength, and the way of an orphaned boy who now has a future.' Veronica Vinson
He has lived at Fountain of Life for many years and will soon be old enough to live on his own and make a way for himself. As you can see, this isn't just another poem from my imagination. This is a true story of hope, strength, and the way of an orphaned boy who now has a future.' Veronica Vinson
2 comments:
Wonderful post, brother. I was moved by your description of your Asia trip. Tell your daughter she is a fantastic poet. Blessings! Tim
Well said... you've got a lovely daughter there Michael. You must be doing something right. : )
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