Money is the root of all evil

Or is it?

Soren loved to walk downtown. His city was quite beautiful, inasmuch as cities can be beautiful. The heart of the city was quaint, with lots of trees and interesting storefronts. Cars were not allowed on the cobblestone streets, so people could wander at will. He headed for the forum, where anyone who had something to say could stand up and say it. Most of the time it was just rants, and Soren would quickly lose interest and wander away. But today, there was someone a little more respectable-looking speaking. They were wearing black pants and a white shirt with a tie, and holding a packet of brochures. Interested, Soren moved closer. “There are people in this world that don’t even have enough water to drink, let alone wash! They can’t afford to get and education, and die of malnutrition and preventable and curable diseases!” He had heard some stuff like this before, but the speaker spoke with such passion, he decided to stay and see what they would say. “The little water they have is contaminated, and most children have little future. Help by sponsoring a child now!”

Yeah, right, thought Soren. He couldn’t possibly sponsor a child. It would be too expensive, too much work. He could wait until he was older. But maybe his parents would be interested, he decided. When the speaker was finished, he snuck a brochure while they were answering another’s questions.

Soren stuck the brochure in his back pocket and promptly forgot all about it. He wandered downtown a little while longer, but nothing new was happening. The next speaker had begun to rant about radiation from computers being a major health concern. Soren turned away in disgust. When he was undressing for bed that night, the brochure fell out of his pocket and drifted under his dresser.

Soren’s room was a disaster area. His mother had made him promise to clean it this weekend, so that was what he was doing, wading through the piles until he could see his floor again. When he was finished, his mother came in for an inspection, presumably to make sure he didn’t just stuff it all under his bed and in his closet. She was very thorough, even looking under his nightstand and dresser. She pulled out a very dusty piece of paper from under his dresser. “What’s this? Child…” “Oh, that’s just something I picked up from a forum speaker a few months ago.” Soren quickly snatched it back.

Soren sat in his room, reading through the brochure properly. The stories it told were extremely sad. They tugged at his heart strings. He realized that these stories didn’t have to happen, if children were sponsored. Everyone could have a good education and options for their future. And he could maybe make a difference. It wasn’t like Soren to make sudden descisions like this, but he decided on the spot that he was going to raise enough money to build a well. $30 a month was more than a little, but he could at least work towards that goal. He fell asleep that night thinking of ways he could raise the money he needed.

Soren realized that he the allowance he received never went to anything he really needed, so into the fund went his allowance. Actually, his allowance was just enough to cover the cost of sponsoring a child.

For the first few months, it was easy to go without his allowance. He got letters from the child he was sponsoring, who happened to be just a couple years younger than himself. He enjoyed the correspondence, and as time went by, the child in the pictures looked happier and healthier. He felt happiness welling up inside with the knowledge that he was really making a difference in someone’s life, in their community. But he was sad, also, because Chrislam (the child) wrote of many other children that were hurting, and about his inability to help them. Soren, too, felt helpless, until he realized that if he worked harder, maybe he could help another child.

Soren slept on the descision for a few months more. Every day, he would say “I’ll sleep on it. Tomorrow I’ll decide”. But not seeing his personal bank account grow every month like it usually did wasn’t fun. He found himself wishing that he could afford the new gadgets that everyone else was playing with. Soren told himself that he didn’t need them, that they were just fads and in a few months or years, everyone would forget about them. But that was in the future, and this was now, and he missed being able to buy things for pleasure. His parents were overjoyed that Soren was doing this, and they spent many supper conversations talking about visiting Chrislam sometime. Soren felt that the money it would take to visit Chrislam would defeat the point, unless they were doing something worthwhile for the community while they visited.

Eventually, they found a mission project that they could all attend, and flew to Chrislam’s village. It was very different in Africa. Much hotter, and seeing seas of dark faces instead of only the occaisional one was a shock to Soren. Not that he was racist, but it was different to be on of a few white people instead of part of the majority.

About a week into the project, Soren’s family found time to visit Chrislam’s village. They’d talked to the company that Soren sponsored the child through, and they had helped arrange a meeting. They even had a translator who could speak english fairly well. This turned out to be a good thing, because both children had a lot to say to eachother.

Later, when Soren was home and writing about his trip, he recalled the day that he met Chrislam as incredible. Chrislam had welcomed them with a broad smile, and had wanted to show them everything he had learned. He showed them the community center, and the school, and his school supplies. He was very proud of his books, and displayed them with reverent care. “Thanks to you, I’m able to read them all now!” he had said. “My parents wanted to send me to school, but business is bad right now, and what you sent was enough to make the difference.”

Soren had never felt happier than on that day, he said. To know that giving up money, and therefore the chance to have all the latest gadgets, had turned out to not be so bad after all. He decided that he wanted to work for more money, maybe even enough to build a well. Plus, there was something satisfying about seeing the dollars multiply. But it felt a lot better to give it away after a while than to just keep watching the numbers get higher and higher.

Teresa
Honest opinions, please. I'm unsure about the quality of this one, and I'd like some outside opinions.Thx.