It's the Little Things That Make the Difference

I'm finding that sometimes, as Americans, we have a tendancy to overlook many of the moments in our lives that can be the most fulfilling. We hustle here and there, try to cram more and more in to our work days and yet miss so much...

This time I'm spending in Afghanistan seems to have heightened my awareness level of some of those moments. Moments that I just plain do not seem to see back home. Those moments when you kinda sit back and say, "Wow, what did I just witness?!"

There are a couple of those "little things" I've witnessed recently that I'd like to share with you in this posting. I pray that perhaps in reading them, you may find yourself seeking to to be more aware of those special moments that God puts in our lives...and to be willing to be a witness to His love in return.

The first instance is one that I will not forget anytime soon. It happened one morning in our office at work. Our Afghan receptionist, Farzana, has a sweet tooth (much like the rest of us in the engineering office I might add!). She loves it when we bring in pastries or cookies from one of the local bakeries, or better yet - when we get homemade goodies from home. It just so happens that the counter where we place them is right next to my desk. When she comes in for here tea, I always make sure to offer her some pastries.

I'm guessing that Farzana is in her early twenties, the same age as my daughters, and I know she not only works in our office, but is also taking college courses. She is a somewhat quiet and reserved, as is the custom in this culture, but recently she has started to feel comfortable enough to have short conversations with me as she chooses her morning sweets from the box next to my desk.

On this particular morning as she came in, before she poured her tea, I asked her if she liked hot cocoa or hot chocolate. She replied that she didn't know - because she had never had any before. After I got over the bit of a shock at her statement, I told her if she would like to try it, we had some that had been shipped over from America. After a moment, she said she would.

I showed her how to rip open the packet, pour in the hot water and stir it. Then I asked her if she wanted some marshmallows to put in it. She looked at me, with her head slightly tilted and asked, "What are marshmallows?". I had to think a moment because the question really caught me off guard - how do you explain to sometime what marshmallows are?!

So, I told her they were soft, very sweet like sugar and they floated and melted on the top of hot chocolate. Her eyes got big and she said, "Really? Yes, I'd like to try some please." I told her to help herself to the bag. As she put some in (they were the miniature ones), she asked "How many?", to which I replied, "As many of you wish." She once again gave me a look of astonishment and replied, "Really?" and I just shook my head 'yes' with a huge grin on my face.

When she finished preparing it, she lifted it and took just a small sip. As she tasted it, she started to smile, then broke into a broader smile and then she looked right at me with eyes that sparkled and shined. She said, in a slow clear voice, "This is wonderful, thank you so much !!!".

Brothers and sisters, it's the little things that make the difference...

The other moment I want to share is even more meaningful to me. This moment involved Rios. Rios also works in our office. He is a cleaner and maintenance person. I don't know what his salary is, but I do know that he is not paid much nor is it even near what he is worth. He is a small young man, but works tirelessly. Rios has been learning English and has prided himself in being able to converse with us as he learned more and more.

Conversely, several of us in the office have been trying to learn some basic conversational phrases in Dari, so we can share more with many of our Afghan staff in their native tongue. As Rios shares with us some of his English skills as he goes about his chores, several of us have asked him to also give us the Dari translation so we could learn too.

Not only did he agree to, but if you looked at his face closely you could see a transformation in it. He relished the thought that we valued him enough to ask for his help. So, each morning as he comes in to prepare our coffee, sweep the floors, empty wastebaskets - he never fails to greet us first in English, and then in Dari - and immediately helps us with our pronunciation as we struggle with the appropriate reply. And all the time - with a huge wide grin on his face.

Then, a week or so ago, I had a thought come to me. (Yes, it does happen occasionally!) Since we want to learn more Dari and Rios is always helping us with it, why not ask him to teach us formally as a group? Several of us discussed it and agreed it was a great idea - and that each of us would pay him a nominal fee for his time. I volunteered to speak with him to make the proposal and the offer.

So I stopped him one day and said I'd like to speak with him about something. We set a time near the end of the work day, as he was getting ready to leave. When the appointed time arrived, we sat on a couch in the lobby and I told him of our proposal and that we wanted to pay him for his time.

The look on his face and in his eyes I will never forget. After a moment, he said he would like to help us but he was not a teacher. I told him we didn't want a teacher, we wanted him to continue to teach us just as he was doing everyday - only as a group, at a table together.

Then he said that he couldn't take our money to do it. I told him that his time was valuable and we wanted to pay him. I also told him that the group agreed if he would not take the money, then we would not go forward with the class. He protested one more time that the money was too much, but I would not back down.

Then I saw the tears well up in his eyes as he told me, "I am so honored that you have asked me to do this thing. I am forever grateful to you." As I fought back the lump in my own throat (and my own tears), I replied, "The honor is ours my friend."

Brothers and sisters, it's the little things that make the difference....

As children of God, we are all called to make a difference in this world. You don't need to come to Afghanistan to make a difference in someone's life. You can do it right in your own home, at your workplace, at your church, at the supermarket...the list could go one forever. It is just a matter of being open to God's love and being more aware of the opportunities He gives you to share it with others.

So, I'd like to challenge you. I challenge you to seek out just one opportunity to make a meaningful difference on someone's life today. And then do it again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that - until it becomes part of who you are.

Brothers and sisters, it really is the little things that make the difference...

Pastor Russ

The Children

As the time draws closer for Thanksgiving, followed by Advent and Christmas, I've been feeling just a bit of homesickness - as well as recovering from a nasty sinus infection. I've been thinking a lot more about the 'closeness' of our family, especially during the holiday times. I've been thinking about the turkey dinner and how full our table is every year. I've been thinking about the Advent season and how we used to do the morning Advent devotional readings together at the breakfast table. And all the family Christmas traditions - too many to list in this small space. I've been feeling a bit sorry for myself too, since I won't be there this year for the very first time in more than 28 years of marriage and raising a family. I suppose it's natural and at the same time just a bit painful too.

And then, when I was kinda questioning how committed I really was to this opportunity and whether I should perhaps consider heading home...I looked directly into the eyes of an Afghan child on the streets of Kabul.

They say that there are an estimated 60,000 'street children' in Kabul. Many of them are homeless. Many of them have homes - but must beg for money and food for themselves and their families. Many of them are sick, cold and hungry. And winter is not too far away.

Each day on our way to and from the office in our secure vehicles, we see them. Many of them stand right in the streets, near the stop lights. When the traffic stops, they seek out the vehicles that may contain a sympathetic Westerner and begin to wipe the dust from the windows - in hopes for a small tip. Even when the traffic begins to move, they continue to run alongside until they can't keep up.

And when we go shopping in town, they find us and follow us. They try to sell us everything from gum to cell phone cards. They offer to be our 'bodyguards'. They know that we have money to spend on rugs and scarves and wood carvings - and they are hoping that we will spend just a little on them.

We've been instructed by our security folks not to pay attention to them nor to buy anything from them. If we do, we are only encouraging them and more will come - perhaps even putting themselves and us in danger. Many children have been hit by cars and others have reportedly been abducted for slave labor.

Then, today, as I was leaving the local shopping center after taking a significant amount of cash from the ATM to pay my monthly food and laundry bill, I encountered a little boy whom looked to be 7 or 8 years old. His clothes were tattered and he had well worn sandals on his feet, but no socks. He was carrying what looked to be an old soup can on a piece of rope, swinging it back and forth as he approached me. I noticed wisps of smoke rising from the can . As he got closer, I could smell a sweet aroma of incense as well.

As he drew near, I heard him say, "Mister, you like the smell? You give me dollar for food?" and as I looked him eye to eye, I replied "Na" (Dari for 'no') and waved my hand away from me, as our security people have taught us to do. Just then my personal security guard opened the car door and indicated for me to get in.

The little boy continued to walk beside me, no longer saying anything, but still waving the sweet incense can until I entered the vehicle. As the door shut, I looked at him again through the window - eye to eye.

What I saw in his eyes was emptiness. No feeling. No pain. He was numb in his mind and in his spirit. Then, just as quickly, the glance was gone as he turned to seek out another person on the street.

What I then felt in my chest was a heaviness of shame and a powerful conflict in my spirit. How could I be so heartless?! How could I let the current circumstances in war torn Kabul justify my actions? What harm could have come from handing him just a single dollar? or taking the time to buy a piece of grilled lamb or chicken and fresh baked bread from a nearby vendor to give to him?

The Bible, the Quran and the Torah all call for us as people of God to care for his children. And, yet, so many times we turn away from them. So many times, by our actions, we act like they don't matter. But they do matter. They matter to God. And, thus, they must matter to us as Christians, Muslims and Jews alike.

In the coming days, I am going to fervently seek out opportunities to help the children of Kabul. There are aid organizations here in Kabul who are working to provide meals and housing for these very street children. I am going to seek them out and offer to help in any way I can.

I am not going to do this as an act of guilt for my actions of today with that boy. I am going to do it because that's what Jesus Christ calls us to do. That encounter with that little boy today - a boy I may never even see again - was an opportunity. An opportunity not to continue down the path I was on.

The children, my brothers and sisters - what we are doing for the children?

Pastor Russ <'///><

Why I Am Here...

That question has crossed my mind more than once these past few days..."Why am I here?"

I'm not referring to the "big" picture of why I am alive, I already know the answer to that. I am alive to fulfill God's purposes for my life and to worship His greatness.

Instead, why am I here - in Kabul, Afghanistan, in the fall of 2008? As I explore these thoughts in my prayer and meditation time each day, I see God reveal things to me in subtle but yet very profound ways.

The elections in the US were on everybody's minds this past week. Many of our Afghan friends asked questions about who each of us supported, who we voted for, why we voted the way we did, etc. Many of them were not just interested in my personal views, but were far more interested in the process of democracy and freedom.

And they became even more interested when I shared with them that my choice for President did not win, but that I was praying for the man who did win. I told them that I was praying for God's anointing and presence on his soul, that he would be a good leader and he would seek God's guidance and strength in the days and years ahead. First, the quizzical looks on their faces, then the moment when they realized what I was saying to them - that my love for my fellow man transcended my political fervor.....that's when I knew why I am here.

Then there was the conversation with the young lady who is the office receptionist in our Kabul office. She overheard me talking about my own children, how they have all gone to college and are now starting their own families. She specifically then asked me about my three daughters: did I approve of their education? what did they each study? were they going to have full time careers? did they vote in the election?... I shared with her how Anne and I have encouraged each of our children to seek their own dreams and to become active citizens in their country. I told her how every one of them had voted in the election, but not all for the same candidate that I did - and how proud I am of them for having their own opinions and strengths. I noticed how her smile widened and her eyes glimmered with understanding....and that's when I knew why I am here.

And then there are the children. Each day as I ride to the office from our residence, we pass many children on their way to school. The boys do not look much different than the children in our own hometowns: T-shirts, jeans, sneakers and backpacks. The girls all dress in black slacks, black long sleeve blouses and white head scarves. They attend separate schools - but they are all going to school willingly, excitedly and enthusiastically. They will someday grow up and be the future leaders of this country. Much of our work here is centered around providing for that future...that's why I am here.

I know God has a purpose for my life....a purpose that has brought me to this place, at this time. I give Him all the honor, glory and praise for all that He provides. I pray daily that He will continue to provide opportunities for conversation, for service, for awareness...that's why I am here.