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This week I lost my grandfather and I wanted to honor him by giving others an opportunity to give to a cause he believed in. The day I posted about him I got a private message from a family member saying ” How dare you use “my brother’s death to raise money for yourself, SHAME on you!”

I was shocked and hurt that someone in my own family could have so little a clue about what I have been doing here the last 11 years for orphan children. It seems the message in the 1.5 hour Blood Brother movie, depicting my service to the children didn’t come across to her.

My point is every child comes to us from somewhere. Each with their own story with their own pains. For example The three sisters below came to live in our home two weeks ago. Their ages are ten, seven, and five. They watched their father get angry and punch their mother in her face knocking her back into a steel gas cylinder which split her skull right down the back.

She was rushed to the hospital with severe hemorrhaging in her brain. The doctors managed to save her life but from that point forward. She is brain dead. After their father left them they were brought to our home and embraced into our family.
This is what our friends and families money goes to. We have a five year old who’s world has been totally shattered but because of people’s giving we have a safe place for her to rebuild pieces of what she lost.

This week the sisters saw their first movie in a theater, The Lion King. I know that doesn’t bring back what they lost but for at least a little while they maybe able to forget what they lost. They laughed out loud as they interacted with the movie.

“If you’re not in the arena also getting your butt kicked then I’m not interested in your feedback.” – Brene Brown

Aug/26/08: Watching her Cry, Written on train napkins.

Seeing Anitha cry today broke my heart. She trusted me when I said she could come with me back to America. I didn’t realize she was actually preparing and planning to go with me. Watching all the children laugh at her when she came out all ready to go made me feel sick. I realize now that all the gifts she was making for me were in hopes of standing out among the others. The words “this child thinks she is going home with you” haunts me as I write.  This little girl stood before me as a treasure that nobody wants and I can’t have. My tears are falling because she is forced to grow up without a family, how alone she must feel. I remember being a boy and dreaming and praying that I’d wake up with a different man than the father God gave me, but this is different I had become that dream to a little orphan girl with aids. Continue reading “Throwback for Anitha”

This week Nimmy and I visited an orphanage. We walked in to find a collection of malnourished children who were found orphaned on the streets. The Indian census says, “About 20 million children, about 4% of their population in India and higher than people living in Delhi, are orphan. Of them, parents of only 0.3% children have died and rest have been abandoned.” Meaning 99.97% have been abandoned by their parents. The numbers mean nothing till you see the children with your own eyes.

Continue reading “20 MILLION”

Seeing Anitha cry today broke my heart. She trusted me when I said she could come with me back to America. I didn’t realize she was actually preparing and planning to go with me. Watching all the children laugh at her when she came out all ready to go made me feel sick. I realize now that all the gifts she was making for me were in hopes of standing out among the others. The words “this child thinks she is going home with you” haunts me as I write.  This little girl stood before me as a treasure that nobody wants and I can’t have. My tears are falling because she is forced to grow up without a family, how alone she must feel. I remember being a boy and dreaming and praying that I’d wake up with a different man than the father God gave me, but this is different I had become that dream to a little orphan girl with aids.
Continue reading “Watching Her Cry”

It’s was an excessively hot day in Chennai. I don’t even recall my reason
for being in the city because I honestly try avoiding it. It’s a very dirty and congested place. It’s packed with people stepping on each other to make their way. I think the temp was above definitely over 100 degrees as I moved down the street. Out of the corner of my eye i saw two of the dirtiest kids I’ve even seen. They were hustling to make money to eat. Now as sad as it is street orphans are a dime a dozen, there just is so many it’s almost disheartening
to try and help one because if you help one you trip over ten more
struggling to survive.

Continue reading “Grace Pizza”

I walked one night through the tiny village where my house is. It’s a really tiny unimportant place composed of mostly uneducated farmers. Little cement 7×7 square encase families ranging from 5-10 members. For most of the day I had been feeling troubled by thoughts of loneliness. My concentration and I lifted my head just in time to see a small flicker of light in the field ahead of me. I at first took it for a small fire, After all I was way to far to assess what it was exactly. As I drew closer and closer I saw a small figure wrapped around it. There in the middle of this field was a small girl no older than the age of seven holding a tiny candle. I crouched down beside her and asked in Tamil what are you doing? She replied I’m looking for my money. Yevelo Ponum kutti poeni (How much money small girl?) I asked. “Two rupee”, I was amazed. “Your looking for a two rupee coin”? As I walked further and further away the light got smaller but she continued to diligently search.

Continue reading “A Little Light”