no-longer-a-slumdog

No Longer a Slumdog
anymore. And I have a little brother, who is very hungry. Would
you please give me a few pennies so I can buy some bread and
take it to him”
The light turned green, and everybody hurried on. But I
couldn’t move. What she said pierced my heart. I turned around
and saw this young girl, not yet 10 years old. I will never forget
her face—one of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen on a
child. She had big brown eyes, thick black hair almost the length
of her body, dirty fingernails, and dust mingled with sweat running
down her face. She was barefoot and in rags. She just stood
there with her hand extended.
I put my hands in my pocket and took out all the money I
could find and gave it to her. Then I walked on.
Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, I felt like an unseen
stranger joined me on this emotional walk. The silent question
He asked was deep and penetrating, “So what do you think
about the little beggar girl you just met Is her life as valuable and
precious as . . .” and the face of another young girl appeared in my
mind’s eye. I didn’t know the name of the girl on the street, but I
for certain knew the name of this new face; it was my own little
daughter, Sarah.
The two were approximately the same age, but their lives
could not have been more contrasting. Sarah had her own carpeted
room with furniture and toys and every comfort one could
imagine. My wife, her German mother, made sure she was well
taken care of. Her sheets and pillowcases were changed every
week on her comfortable bed. She had plenty of clothes, socks,
tennis shoes, a toothbrush, toothpaste, soap and shampoo. We
had given Sarah all of what is so abundantly available for children
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