In the summer of 2008 I was given an amazing opportunity. I, along with 8 others, headed overseas to a small country called Moldova to do missions work. Our main goal while we were there was to run a camp for children in the small village of Petrovca, but more importantly we wanted to create relationships with these children to let them know that they were cared about.
Many people do not know much about the country of Moldova, in fact when I speak of it most people don’t even know it exists. Moldova is a very small country smack dab in the middle of the Ukraine and Romania. The people there speak mainly Romanian, and have a culture that is very unique to them. It is a wonderful country but is sadly very poor. It was once part of the USSR, and did not become an independent country until 1991. As a result of the former USSR rule they are still developing as a nation and still suffer from a lack of money, jobs, and resourses. As a result many parents leave their children to live with grandparents, or sometimes alone, to go to Russia to find work. They tell their children that they will send money, and that they will return eventually. Unfortunately a lot of the time the children don’t see any money, or their parents.
While we were in Moldova we ran camps for the children that included songs, crafts, and lessons. We taught the children basic english words, and played a lot of soccer. As a result we got very close with the children and created relationships with them.
On my final night in the village we were out in the field playing soccer, and I had taken it upon myself to entertain some of the younger ones who were a little shy to play with the bigger children. We were all a little sad to be leaving and the children and villagers were sad to see us leave. One little girl in particular pulled at my heart strings. As I was sitting on a well she came over, sat on my lap, took my big hands into her little hands and said in the best english she could muster “Thank you very much!”. And I melted. It was at that moment that I realized that even though I didn’t think that running and organizing the camps was a big deal, I had made a big impact on the lives of these children and they were very grateful.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Making a Difference
Through my travel with the group called Katimavik I have learned an awful lot and had a lot of experiences that I would have never had if I had not joined the group.
It’s amazing how much people actually appreciate the little bit of help that you can do for them, people may not always show you gratitude or anything but deep down it means an awful lot to them. A recent experience I had on my travels occurred while I was working at the food bank in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.
I was handing out food to the needy not really realizing that what I was doing was helping people live there lives just a bit better than they normally would be with out my help. Then one day I was handing food out and I came across an elderly blind man who was by himself, realizing this I offered my assistance in helping him pack his food and get it to the taxi waiting for him, never in my life have I ever seen someone so thankful in their life, the elderly gentleman broke down in tears and thanked me repeatedly and saying god bless me over and over, at that point I realized that with a bit of help people are forever thankful.
It’s amazing how much people actually appreciate the little bit of help that you can do for them, people may not always show you gratitude or anything but deep down it means an awful lot to them. A recent experience I had on my travels occurred while I was working at the food bank in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.
I was handing out food to the needy not really realizing that what I was doing was helping people live there lives just a bit better than they normally would be with out my help. Then one day I was handing food out and I came across an elderly blind man who was by himself, realizing this I offered my assistance in helping him pack his food and get it to the taxi waiting for him, never in my life have I ever seen someone so thankful in their life, the elderly gentleman broke down in tears and thanked me repeatedly and saying god bless me over and over, at that point I realized that with a bit of help people are forever thankful.
An Unforgettable Christmas
There was this family where the mother was a single young mother, for those of you who know what it’s like, it’s not easy to raise a child by yourself. Unfortunately there was very little income coming into the mothers hands at this time because of the fact that she was a single mother.
At Christmas they were very short on money, there was barely enough for the two of them to have food on the table let alone think about gifts and such, then something happened that surprised the mother, it was Christmas eve and she heard a knock on the door. She went to the door and there were about a dozen people from the same apartment building standing there baring many kinds of foods and gifts for her and her new born child.
The people in the apartment building had known about the financial income of this mother and her child they had all put together some money and had made them have a Christmas that the mother would never forget.
At Christmas they were very short on money, there was barely enough for the two of them to have food on the table let alone think about gifts and such, then something happened that surprised the mother, it was Christmas eve and she heard a knock on the door. She went to the door and there were about a dozen people from the same apartment building standing there baring many kinds of foods and gifts for her and her new born child.
The people in the apartment building had known about the financial income of this mother and her child they had all put together some money and had made them have a Christmas that the mother would never forget.
A Little Kindness can go a long way….
Recently I was listening to a CBC radio broadcast about cancer, listening to this broadcast sparked a memory from when I was in elementary school and junior high.
Back when I was my grade 6 year in a small town in Nova Scotia there was a young boy who had moved from Germany with his mother and sister. Unfortunately when they moved here about a month later the mother was diagnosed with cancer. For a long while the family kept it secret except from close friends and family, but eventually the mother wound up very sick and in a hospital.
Word had spread out about the mother being in the hospital, Most kids in the young boys class felt very bad for him and tried to comfort him about it. However the boy did not like to talk about it with anyone except his Close friends and family.
Then One day while I was in my 9th year his mother passed away and in my class we started a fund for him, people donated money and toys and gifts of all sorts for him, when he came back to school we presented him with it and a very large card with all of our signatures on it. Later that week we found out that him and his sister were going to have to go back to Germany to live with their father because they had no relatives in Canada to stay with, an elderly couple who lived not too far away from them decided they would foster them if it was ok with them and their father. The sister wanted to go back with her father but the boy stayed with the family they showed him much love and care as though he was always a part of their family.
Through the acts of kindness from friends and the family that took him in, he was able to finish high school with all the people that showed him much love and concern within the community.
Back when I was my grade 6 year in a small town in Nova Scotia there was a young boy who had moved from Germany with his mother and sister. Unfortunately when they moved here about a month later the mother was diagnosed with cancer. For a long while the family kept it secret except from close friends and family, but eventually the mother wound up very sick and in a hospital.
Word had spread out about the mother being in the hospital, Most kids in the young boys class felt very bad for him and tried to comfort him about it. However the boy did not like to talk about it with anyone except his Close friends and family.
Then One day while I was in my 9th year his mother passed away and in my class we started a fund for him, people donated money and toys and gifts of all sorts for him, when he came back to school we presented him with it and a very large card with all of our signatures on it. Later that week we found out that him and his sister were going to have to go back to Germany to live with their father because they had no relatives in Canada to stay with, an elderly couple who lived not too far away from them decided they would foster them if it was ok with them and their father. The sister wanted to go back with her father but the boy stayed with the family they showed him much love and care as though he was always a part of their family.
Through the acts of kindness from friends and the family that took him in, he was able to finish high school with all the people that showed him much love and concern within the community.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Not for Sale
I was serving as an infantry soldier with the 4th Infantry Division in the Central Highlands of Vietnam in 1969. My platoon had just finished searching a Montagnard village and after determining that it was secure, we settled down to eat.
Walking around the mud, I sat on the porch of one of the hooches in the village. It was a relief to have the weight of the rucksack off my back and I began to rummage through it for some C-rations. As I was eating, something caused me to turn around and peer into the darkness of the thatched hut. Huddled there was a Montagnard woman and two small children.
Sensing their fear, I took my rifle off the porch and put it by my side. I pulled some more C-rations from my pack and gently slid them toward the figures in the darkness and turned back around.
I felt the presence of the woman before I actually heard her (a trait that no doubt contributed to my survival) and turned around as she approached. As she gathered the food I had left for her, she took two bracelets off her arm and offered them to me. I smiled and nodded my thanks as I took them. We did not speak each others language, but knew exactly what we each meant. She backed away from me bowing and smiling and returned to the darkness of the hooch.
After eating, I rejoined some of the guys in my platoon. Someone asked about the bracelets on my wrist and I recounted how I got them. Two of the guys asked which hooch it was because they wanted to get some bracelets for themselves.
I led them back to the woman who gave me the braclets and by pointing to the bracelets on her arm and offering C-rations they tried to barter. I don't know what the Montagnard woman actually said, but it certainly seemed to translate as "not for sale".
The other soldiers left empty handed in frustration and as I walked away, it dawned on me just how special the bracelets really were. I turned and looked at the woman and she nodded her head toward me and smiled.
I still have those bracelets and that one sweet memory amoung so many sad ones.
About the Author:
Mike Green served two years in the US Army where he received a Bronze Star and two Army Commendation Medals. He used the GI Bill to continue his education upon returning to the United States and obtained a Masters Degree in Journalism from the University of Arizon in Tucson, Arizona.
He currently lives in Tucson and is a freelance writer, among other things.
Walking around the mud, I sat on the porch of one of the hooches in the village. It was a relief to have the weight of the rucksack off my back and I began to rummage through it for some C-rations. As I was eating, something caused me to turn around and peer into the darkness of the thatched hut. Huddled there was a Montagnard woman and two small children.
Sensing their fear, I took my rifle off the porch and put it by my side. I pulled some more C-rations from my pack and gently slid them toward the figures in the darkness and turned back around.
I felt the presence of the woman before I actually heard her (a trait that no doubt contributed to my survival) and turned around as she approached. As she gathered the food I had left for her, she took two bracelets off her arm and offered them to me. I smiled and nodded my thanks as I took them. We did not speak each others language, but knew exactly what we each meant. She backed away from me bowing and smiling and returned to the darkness of the hooch.
After eating, I rejoined some of the guys in my platoon. Someone asked about the bracelets on my wrist and I recounted how I got them. Two of the guys asked which hooch it was because they wanted to get some bracelets for themselves.
I led them back to the woman who gave me the braclets and by pointing to the bracelets on her arm and offering C-rations they tried to barter. I don't know what the Montagnard woman actually said, but it certainly seemed to translate as "not for sale".
The other soldiers left empty handed in frustration and as I walked away, it dawned on me just how special the bracelets really were. I turned and looked at the woman and she nodded her head toward me and smiled.
I still have those bracelets and that one sweet memory amoung so many sad ones.
About the Author:
Mike Green served two years in the US Army where he received a Bronze Star and two Army Commendation Medals. He used the GI Bill to continue his education upon returning to the United States and obtained a Masters Degree in Journalism from the University of Arizon in Tucson, Arizona.
He currently lives in Tucson and is a freelance writer, among other things.
Friday, January 18, 2008
I Know You
One of those moments that stick’s with you happened to me when I was in High School. It was my first year in a large High School with kids bused in from many communities, lots of familiar faces and lots of new faces. For all of us in Grade 10 it was a big change to move into the Big school in town. Sometime in the first week a girl I didn’t recognize walked up to me. She said “I know you”. I looked and wondered who she was and she didn’t seem at all surprised that I didn’t recognize her. In fact she seemed totally prepared for that.
After a moments pause she reached into her pocket and handed me a wallet sized copy of my Grade one school picture. As I looked at the picture and at her I still didn’t know who she was. She explained, “I came to your school for just a short time when I was in grade one, you were so kind to me and made me feel so welcome that I have never forgotten. When I saw you here I remembered and brought the picture so you would know how much it meant to me that you gave it to me and made me feel welcome in a strange new place. Thank you”.
I do not recall anymore of that conversation. I just know that it has reminded me over and over again throughout my life in many different circumstances that even though you may never know it the kindness you have shown another today really does matter.
Name Withheld
After a moments pause she reached into her pocket and handed me a wallet sized copy of my Grade one school picture. As I looked at the picture and at her I still didn’t know who she was. She explained, “I came to your school for just a short time when I was in grade one, you were so kind to me and made me feel so welcome that I have never forgotten. When I saw you here I remembered and brought the picture so you would know how much it meant to me that you gave it to me and made me feel welcome in a strange new place. Thank you”.
I do not recall anymore of that conversation. I just know that it has reminded me over and over again throughout my life in many different circumstances that even though you may never know it the kindness you have shown another today really does matter.
Name Withheld
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Legacy
On the day of my Father’s funeral I met his legacy. I woke to the noise of an unfamiliar voice. Waking in the mornings had been a foggy experience after my arrival. I would wake with a feeling of confusion, wondering where I am, why I am here…and then the stark empty feeling as I realized my Dad was gone. I had been sleeping in my Mother’s house for a couple of days and this was the day of the funeral. I was drawn by the voice in the kitchen.
A stout, disheveled, dark haired man I did not recognize sat with my Mom & my Sister, as I observed his sunken shoulders & the tears in his eyes I spontaneously said, “You need a hug” and embraced him. I silently wondered “who is this man I am consoling on the day of my fathers funeral”.
I sat with him and after a brief introduction learned about this “stranger” in my kitchen. He had arrived in our community with nothing, his family in tow looking for a fresh start. Actually, he explained it was their vehicle breaking down that made them stop in this town. Shortly afterwards they met my family. My Dad had many fresh starts in his life, a Veteran of WWII, a survivor of polio, a father of 5, a husband of 58 years. He knew that they needed a chance and he took this man under his wing, a beautiful place to find yourself I must add.
Over a period of time he was offered odd jobs around the property & house & he and his family became welcome guest in our family home. Obviously that little bit of kindness had a very large impact. As his eyes welled up and overflowed with tears I heard how my father made the world a better place and how much that meant to this sweet man and his family.
On the day of my father’s funeral there were many kind words, hugs and tributes. To me none spoke as clearly as the legacy I hugged in the kitchen that morning. Through kindness we truly are blessed.
Name Withheld
A stout, disheveled, dark haired man I did not recognize sat with my Mom & my Sister, as I observed his sunken shoulders & the tears in his eyes I spontaneously said, “You need a hug” and embraced him. I silently wondered “who is this man I am consoling on the day of my fathers funeral”.
I sat with him and after a brief introduction learned about this “stranger” in my kitchen. He had arrived in our community with nothing, his family in tow looking for a fresh start. Actually, he explained it was their vehicle breaking down that made them stop in this town. Shortly afterwards they met my family. My Dad had many fresh starts in his life, a Veteran of WWII, a survivor of polio, a father of 5, a husband of 58 years. He knew that they needed a chance and he took this man under his wing, a beautiful place to find yourself I must add.
Over a period of time he was offered odd jobs around the property & house & he and his family became welcome guest in our family home. Obviously that little bit of kindness had a very large impact. As his eyes welled up and overflowed with tears I heard how my father made the world a better place and how much that meant to this sweet man and his family.
On the day of my father’s funeral there were many kind words, hugs and tributes. To me none spoke as clearly as the legacy I hugged in the kitchen that morning. Through kindness we truly are blessed.
Name Withheld
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
