The sponsor kid.

"The sponsor kid."

I remember the weirdest stuff from when I was small. Since before I was born we've "Sponsored' kids. Kids, who, didn't have enough to eat, didn't have a place to sleep, didn't have an education, didn't have a family to take care of them. I know we all see those commercials, you know, the ones with the little kids dressed in rags, living in run-down houses, begging you to be their sponsor, to save a life. Then you feel guilty. But do those kids REALLY need you?

Yup. 

It's the simple truth. Without you, life is gonna be hard, really hard. And for what? 30 bucks a month?

Since before I can remember we've sponsored. Our current sponsor child is named Uwimbabazi Divine.

(Pretty Awesome name, right?) She's in 3rd grade, and we've been sponsoring her for about three years now. She's really cute, and sweet, and she constantly is saying "Thank you for letting me become a part of your family!" In her letters. She tells us how she's doing, she tells about her neighborhood, her family, she asks us to pray for things. But she never complains. I love getting her letters, and I love writing back to her. She asks us questions, like, What is your favorite color? Or how old are you? How many children do you have? (To my parents) She's curious and cute. And it didn't take me long to absolutely adore her. 

Another story is when I was about 8-10 My older brother and I had a chicken egg business. We had about thirty chickens. We charged 2 dollars a dozen and business was booming when my mom sat us down and said,

"How do you feel about sponsoring another kid with some of your egg money?"

We both readily agreed and soon we started getting letters from a girl named Mercy. Mom wrote to her and I told her things to say from us. This went on for awhile until we were told that Mercy didn't need us anymore. I was sad, because, even though she lived halfway around the world in the name of a country I couldn't pronounce in a town with a strange name in a teeny village with an even weirder name, I loved her. She was my friend. And even though she was scowling in her picture I imagined she smiled when she got our letters. I never knew what happened to Mercy. 

So what right? I don't know. You can take this as a nice little story, or as something more.

All I know, is that when I get married, I'm adopting someone like Uwimbabazi, or Mercy.