I thought for this year I would challenge myself and move outside my comfort zone in essay writing. I have recently been dabbling in fictional writing and this month's blog is my first attempt at it. It is said that moving outside ones comfort zone shows ones desire to grow! Creating a moral lesson has always been an objective of my essays. This January 2023 essay combines both a moral lesson and a fictional story line.
A summer downpour was forecast for later this evening. The Weather Bureau was reporting that La Niña will be continuing this month. Upon hearing it on TV, a clap of thunder was heard and suddenly the rain started pelting down on my tinned roof house.
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The day had been a busy one for me, having cleared the shed of unwanted junk, folded cardboard, a washing machine drum, offcut metal sheets, bits of fencing and old furniture. It took me most of the afternoon to move the throwaway items onto my nature strip. Before moving the items, I rang my neighbour Smithy who lives with his wife, Margaret and their six kids on the farm next door. I asked him if he wanted some of the things I was clearing out. It is hilarious to imagine that some of the stuff, came from Smithy’s place when he was doing a similar clean up a few years earlier. I didn’t have the heart to throw it out, and I wasn’t going to tell him that some of the items first belonged to him. I was hoping that he would not remember and take them home. I suspect however the one who would remember would be Margaret. I thought to myself, ‘I’ll take my chances’, as she's a gentle giant of a lady.
Tami, my missus had gone for the weekend to be with her sister who lives in the city. Her sister had recently given birth to a baby boy, the first boy in the family, and Tami was providing some assistance while her sister recovers from a caesarean section operation.
With the wind starting to pick up and howling outside, my external aerial didn’t have a chance in providing me with a good reception for my television. The screen reported “weak signal” which put an end to me watching my favourite TV programs. Fortunately, I was able to catch the major news items of the day earlier that evening, including the market prices for commodities, and both the local and overseas news, particularly the famine overseas and consequential refugee crisis.
With enough news both good and bad to digest with my TV dinner of left-over lamb roast, spuds and peas, which Tami left instructions on how to warm them, I decided to call it a day. To help me fall asleep I prepared a hot chocolate drink with the last cup of milk from the carton. Then, following a list of things Tami left behind for me to check before bedtime, I began my walk around the house making sure all the power points were switched off and the front and back doors, including windows were locked.
With a glass of water by my bedside table and only a pillow to cuddle, I closed my eyes and nodded off. I could still hear the wind howling in the night, but with the chains on the front gate creating a rhythmic lullaby and the rotating sound of the wind vane spinning crazily outside, I soon felt asleep under my lightweight doona.
What seemed like a few minutes later, I felt the draft of the wind on my feet and droplets of rain beating on my face. Instinctively I got up and found myself under a bridge by the local river with more than a dozen people; men, women, and children around me.
I was a little confused, but the reality of the scene of these people crouching in a dark corner with hoody, scarfs, blankets, and newspapers around them were oh so real.
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The lucky ones were sitting by a makeshift campfire inside a discarded metal washing machine drum with their arms extended towards the flickering fire to keep warm, while others were simply happy sitting by a burning log for warmth. The smell of burning wood, with smoke wafting through the air and the odour of damp clothes and human suffering was everywhere. There were spots of light, probably from lanterns which sparkled across the landscape, including from across the river. While I couldn’t count them all, there seemed like hundreds of them on the opposite river bank still waiting to cross the steady flowing river to where we were.
Focusing on the people near to me, whom I could make out through the dim lights of the campfire, were children sleeping in cardboard boxes of varying sizes. These once storage boxes were turned on their sides to provide an opening where the children could crawl into and sleep with some level of crude protection around them. These were the lucky ones, as there were others who were sleeping out in the open with layers of newspapers or sheets of cloth over them. In the shadows, I could make out one nursing mother whose whimpering baby was simply clinging to her trying to suckle milk from her breast. Both seemed malnourished. Despair was written all over her darken face, as the wind howled and whistled around as it blew under the bridge. A man, presumably her husband and father of the child was sitting cross legged trying to prevent the fire from going out. There were broken pieces of furniture around him, which I suspect he had collected for firewood.
The strange thing was the lack of commotion or mayhem. It was as if the people there were resigned to their fate and situation, or perhaps hoping and praying that the next day would be a little better.
I too felt helpless, unable to assist or even speak to them. I felt that I was simply an observer to the plight of these people.
Photo Credit: Unsplash (for illustration only)
Before I knew it, the morning rays of the rising sun shone through the tiny tear in my bedroom window curtain. As the light moved ever so slowly across the room, I felt the sun rays beaming on my half awaken face. I blinked my eyes a few times and realised that I was dreaming and had been replaying in my mind the last news item I had seen on the television. Even the old and unwanted junk I had moved from my shed had a cameo part in my dream.
While the dream time story is fictional, the reality of the utter despair is so prevalent in many parts of the world today. As humans, we can be very nonchalant in our concern for our fellow humans who are in such desperate situations. I suppose we read, see and hear so much about the plight of refugees, conflict, famine and human trafficking that we have become immune and desensitized to these things.
We are often preoccupied with the problems we have. Often these problems are First World problems like deciding to buy or rent an apartment, deciding on which schools to send our children to, or problems as trivial as asking our kids to decide between having KFC or McDonalds for a takeaway dinner treat. Such decisions can overtake our sense of philanthropy for others. I love the original meaning of the word, first coined by Greek playwright Aeschylus in the 5th century BC. The original meaning of philanthropy was "love of humanity." However today, its focus has become to mean giving gifts, either "time, talent or treasure" to help make life better for others. I believe without a foundational moral belief in the love of humanity, this giving will soon wane. As my moral foundations are based on Holy Scripture, I often return to it for its revelation of truth. The passage below, extracted from an on-line article I read triggered a sense of [my] 'faith in action' when evaluating the love of humanity to the act of giving.
The Bible teaches that giving to others is an important way of spreading God’s love in our world. Since God has given us the ultimate gift – eternal salvation – and is constantly pouring blessings into our lives, we should respond by giving as well. Matthew 10:8 urges: “Freely you have received; freely give.”
Giving is all about putting love into action. Jesus tells us in John 13:35, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” 1 John 3:16-18 describes how to love through giving: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” Giving to others is part of living a faithful life in relationships with Jesus. Galatians 6:2 urges everyone who follows Jesus to, “Carry each other’s burdens and so you will fulfill the law of Christ.”
After such a profound challenge for living out my faith, I have become more conscious of the world and local events around me. While I will not be able to impact the whole of humanity, what I have attempted to do, and will continue more in 2023 is to try to have a positive impact on the people and situations in my sphere of influence.
These words of Mother Teresa should be an encouragement for us; "The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."
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