I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
August 12, 2009
>At first, she was nothing more than a picture.
Earlier this year, I had decided to sponsor a child through Compassion International in honor of my friend and my pastor, both of whom were going to India to meet some of Compassion International’s children. I chose the only five-year-old girl from India who still needed a sponsor.
Her name was Asifa, and very little of her personality could be discerned from the picture. She stared sternly at the camera, her hair pulled back severely from her face. But I chose her over the dimple-faced smiling boys and the older, bright-eyed girls. I thought it would be good to sponsor a girl who was my own daughter’s age- Punky could learn about the importance of helping others, and maybe also learn a little something about another culture in the process.
I showed Punky Asifa’s picture and we added Asifa to our nightly prayer. But summer arrived with trips to amusement parks and swimming lessons and vacations and visits with friends. I had a form to fill out and send to Asifa, with space for a letter and a family picture, but I was having trouble getting around to it, what with everything else going on.
And then I received a letter from India.
In it, the translator told me about Asifa. She was a good girl, a smart girl, a beautiful girl, who helped her mother with chores and bought food for her at the market. Her parents were very pleased that she had found a sponsor at Compassion, International’s school. Her uniform had been bought. She wanted to know more about my family.
I felt horribly guilty that I hadn’t gotten around to writing her.
A few days later, Punky found her piggy bank in the playroom and brought it downstairs to show us.
“I’d like to give this money to someone who needs it,” she announced. My mouth dropped open. Punky had been doing odd jobs around the house for months in order to save up enough money to buy herself a toy.
“Are you sure?” I asked her.
“Yep,” she said. “But I don’t know who needs money.” She shrugged. “Maybe my sisters. They always say they need money.”
Hubs and I both laughed. “Punky, they’re teenagers. All teenagers say that. But they don’t really need money. You want to give it to someone who is poor.”
She thought for a moment. “Well, how about Asifa?” she asked.
My eyes shone with pride. “That’s a fabulous idea! If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she said. We dumped the contents of the bank onto the table and began counting.
“Your total is four dollars and eighty-one cents,” I told her. “And I’m going to match that. We’ll send Asifa ten dollars, to buy whatever she wants or needs.”
And that’s exactly what we did. I wrote Asifa a long overdue letter, tucked in a picture of our family, and sent her Punky’s allowance money.
And suddenly, the little girl in the picture became real.
Punky and I have begun talking about her regularly. We looked up where she lived on our globe. We read about children in Asifa’s region of India- what they eat, what they wear, how they live. Punky was horrified to learn that Asifa probably has no electricity or running water or toilet.
“I’m glad we sent her my money, Mommy,” she said. “Because now they can buy a lamp!”
That prompted a very interesting discussion about electricity.
This afternoon, Punky had an idea.
“I’d like to help more little girls who are poor, Mommy,” she told me. “I’d like to help lots of strange little girls we don’t know, like Asifa.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Punky!” I said. “Let’s do it!”
I think we may have found ourselves A Cause.
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
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