W hat an enjoyable morning I’ve spent! Unsure of the path to take to reach the home of a disabled boy — whose address I had lost both on paper and in memory — I lucked out at just the right time, encountering folks along the way to guide me for almost seven miles. A friendly villager led me the last steps to the family’s tin shed.
Alameen, now a big 11-year-old with disabilities, was sitting in a beat-up wheelchair. I recalled how his mother used to struggle to lift and carry him from place to place.
His father was home; we had our first ever conversation. I pledged to seek a new wheelchair for Alameen. I snapped a number of photos, and Alameen was glad to be made much of. As I biked home, I remembered the kindness of the folks who guided me well.
H ere in Mwanza, Tanzania, where I serve as a Maryknoll brother, every Monday afternoon I go to a rescue center for children who were living on the streets. Called Upendo Daima (in Swahili, Love Always), it offers free room and board, clothing, medication, counseling, loving care and basic education. My ministry there is to teach guitar.
The problem is that every of couple of weeks, I have to start all over again with the basics. Upendo Daima’s aim is to reunite the children with relatives, so when a child is ready to return to their family, they go home.
You might wonder, why spend time teaching these children to play a musical instrument if they are there only a short time? However, teaching guitar is not the main issue. The children are seeking love and attention. When I arrive, 12 to 15 eager students quickly bring out the guitars and chairs. They argue a bit to see who is going to be first, or next, to learn. When I have finished the lesson, each student comes to me with a big smile and a high five.
When I pray, I remember that God’s love is revealed to me through these children.
Loren Beaudry, M.M.
I n Macau, where I used to serve, I started a workshop for disabled people to learn skills that would enable them to find work. A-Mui came to our center as a shy, physically disabled young lady with a low self-image. Like most of our students, she had been considered “useless” by the outside world.
A-Mui gave herself fully to the program, and in time became a skilled seamstress. With us, she learned about Jesus and experienced his love for her just as she was. As she grew in her faith, she discovered that God, who transformed water into wine, had transformed her into a lovely, self-confident woman, a dedicated worker and someone who radiates a joy she never thought possible.
When she decided to be baptized, she chose “Fatima” as her baptismal name. Like Jesuit Father Greg Boyle says, A-Mui chose “to be the tender glance of God’s Love in the world.”
Arlene Trant, M.M.
I met the Venerable Thích Tinh Nguyêt, a Buddhist monastic, at an interfaith gathering in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, where I serve as a Maryknoll lay missioner.
As a young novice about 20 years ago, Nguyêt took on the responsibility of fostering a newborn baby girl. Although the child was raised at the pagoda in the Buddhist tradition, she was attracted to the nearby Catholic church, where she was allowed to attend Mass. Today, the nun told me, her foster child is a third-year university student and a newly baptized Catholic.
“How understanding of you! How did you cope with all that?” I asked.
“I loved my foster daughter since her infancy,” Nguyêt responded. “Raising her helped me to cultivate compassion for others, rather than being occupied by my own problems. I had to grow up with her. Prohibiting her to join the Catholic faith would have only caused suffering.”
Both foster parent and child were courageous in navigating on the raft of faith. Is there a better example than this of Buddhists and Christians working together for peace?
Featured image: Paul Jeffrey/Bangladesh
