For nearly a year now, my mornings have been spent commuting to work without
sufficient resources to replace my worn-out car. It's been challenging,
requiring adjustments like arriving earlier due to relying on public
transportation. Moreover, navigating through heavy traffic near the
construction site of a flyover halfway along my route adds to the difficulty.
One
morning, after rushing through my morning routine, I waited in vain for a taxi
to get to work on time. The early hours were scorching hot, with the sun
already blazing in the 8 a.m. rush. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on my side as no
taxi approached. Instead, I opted for a tricycle to take me to the jeepney
terminal. At the terminal, I patiently waited for additional passengers to fill
the seats on both sides of the jeepney. Finally, the engine roared to life, and
we began our journey.
Seated on the far right, I found myself lost in thoughts, occasionally
daydreaming and stealing a moment of rest. As we traveled about a kilometer, I
glanced over at the school where my 9-year-old daughter attends. She had risen
earlier than I, managing to reach school on her own. I couldn't help but wonder
what she was doing in her classroom at that moment. It saddened me to think
about her having to switch from a good but costly school due to our current
financial constraints. The same situation applied to my second child, now in
second grade. When I asked her how things were going, she lamented that her
classmates struggled with English pronunciation. I reassured them both that we
hoped to return them to their former school next year when our situation
improved.
As the jeepney approached the construction site of the flyover, it slowed
down, forcing me to exercise patience. Near the intersection, I noticed two
young, dirty children, approximately 4 and 7 years old, a girl and a boy,
respectively, trying to board the jeepney. The boy carried a tin can to drum for
money from passengers. Initially repelled by their odor, like others, I kept my
distance while the driver shooed them away. In my mind, I wondered where their parents
were and felt a sense of disdain.
However, as I looked closer at the little girl, she met my gaze with
innocent eyes that reminded me of my own two-year-old daughter back home. In
that moment, I was overcome with pity, realizing it was not their fault to be
born into poverty.
Shortly after, the frustrated driver scolded the children again, urging them
to find another jeepney. The boy defiantly reached into his pocket, pulled out
his hard-earned money, and insisted they could pay. This only provoked the
driver further, who snapped back, "Keep your money. How can you afford to
pay when you can barely eat?" There was a brief silence.
Looking around, I saw passengers of all ages and backgrounds who seemed
indifferent to the children's plight. Moved to help in my own small way, I
reached for some change to give them. However, before I could, they had already
leaped off and onto another jeepney, disappearing into the crowded streets.
The
jeepney crept along the bustling streets at a sluggish pace. Suddenly, it
paused longer than expected in front of the mall, presumably to pick up more
passengers. Anxious about being late, I was about to urge the driver to move on
when I spotted the two children across the street once more. It struck me then
that these little ones faced far greater hardships than my own, yet they bore
their struggles without complaint. This poignant realization transported me
back to my own childhood.
I grew up in a neighborhood where poverty was a daily reality for many
children, who became my playmates. I vividly recalled accompanying them with a
sack slung over our shoulders, scouring villages for tin cans and plastic to
sell at junkyards. My mother often wondered where I earned my money from. While some
viewed these children as societal nuisances, they were simply trying to
survive. They weren't begging out of choice but necessity, to eat and live, just
like any of us. The stark contrast between their struggles and the extravagant
lifestyles of the affluent people I encounter through my work was glaring.
Many of these wealthy individuals live in opulence, often spending beyond
their needs. Meanwhile, these poor children survive hand-to-mouth, learning to
beg at a tender age. The disparity troubled me deeply. I wished that even a
fraction of the wealth enjoyed by the affluent could go towards sheltering the
homeless, comforting the sick, and feeding the hungry, especially children like
the two vagrants I encountered that morning.
I longed to help, but my current means were limited. If only I were wealthy,
I thought, I could make a significant difference. Yet, I prayed that wealth, if
it ever came my way, wouldn't blind me to the needs of others, as cautioned by
Jesus in the Bible. His words from Matthew 19:23-24 echoed in my mind,
reminding me of the pitfalls of wealth and the importance of compassion:
"Verily I say unto you, that a rich man shall hardly enter into the
kingdom of heaven. And again, I say unto you, it is easier for a camel to go
through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of
God."
These words served as a sobering reminder. If I were to become wealthy, I
prayed I would use it wisely, not for self-indulgence or vanity, but a fraction
of it should help uplift the less fortunate.
Let's have a heart to these little ones because their innocence teaches us how to become a child of God.
Luke 18:15-17
"People were
bringing even infants to him that he might touch them; and when the
disciples saw it, they sternly ordered them not to do it. But Jesus
called for them and said, "Let the little children come to me, and do
not stop them; for it is such as these that the kingdom of God
belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God
as a little child will never enter it."
Matthew 18:1-5
At
that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, " Who is the greatest
in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a child, whom he put among them,
and said, "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children,
you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like
this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes
one such child in my name welcomes me."
The truth remains: we are not solitary beings in this world. It is
populated with fellow humans like us, each striving to survive. In this regard,
we are no different from those little kids I encountered. We navigate our paths
through life, seeking what we need to sustain ourselves. Some find prosperity,
while others struggle. But amidst our pursuits, have we ever paused to reflect
on how our lives have become consumed by the pursuit of money?
Take a moment to look back at the trail we've blazed. Do you see the
clutter? It accumulates as we race through life, often forgetting that it's not
about reaching the finish line first. The journey itself holds more
significance than the destination.
One harsh reality we face is that from the moment we become aware of our
existence on this earth, we also acknowledge our eventual mortality. Our
journey through life is about living, while its end serves as our ultimate
destination. Thus, winning the race becomes inconsequential; what truly matters
is how we live our lives.
There is no greater and nobler pursuit than taking time to consider others
and share what we have. The joy and fulfillment derived from such acts nourish
our souls. For while worldly riches and prestige may fade, the spirit endures.
