I remember it so vividly.
My emotions were still soaring from the hours before.
I had just spent my time with some of the most remarkable people I think I will ever meet.
I was at the Mother Teresa home.
A massive building catered to people suffering with every type of illness and need out there.
Ethiopia, Africa.
What a place to be.
The building where we had just held orphan babies, played with children of AIDS, prayed with people dying of TB.
The people who worked there were incredible.
Loving the unloveable of Africa.
All those who society deemed unworthy of being; were accepted at this place.
Where people who needed love and acceptance discovered the unconditional love of the Father and could bathe in it.
The disabled who are openly ridiculed found a place of refuge.
Found a place where they could be helped instead of being seen as worthless.
What a magical place.
So my emotional state entering our next location was perfect.
I was ready.
I was ready to take on the world.
Our next stop was a feeding program.
My first thought was: this is a disappointment.
Our last location was so magical and now this.
We pulled up.
We did our routine that we did at every single location we went to.
A couple dances, some speaking and a skit or two.
I was on autopilot.
My heart wasn't really there.
But then something caught my eye.
One of the leaders was sitting with a boy out in the crowd.
What caught my eye was the smile on this little boy's face.
What was going on?
After a quick assessment of the situation I realized that this little boy was blind.
Jeff was allowing this little boy to touch his face.
I connected the two and realized that this was this little boy's method of communication.
His face lit up.
He was perplexed.
You could tell that he hadn't felt a face of this nature before.
I realized that the hair on Jeff's head wasn't as course as African hair.
Or the same texture in the slightest.
This little boy was experiencing for the first time, this new sensation.
I couldn't ever forget the face of this little boy.
How elated he was.
Like he was seeing Disneyland for the first time.
Jeff then called his daughter over.
Her long silky hair went down past her navel.
I knew.
I didn't think it was possible.
But I saw the little boys face light up even more.
What a strange thing he was feeling.
He felt her face.
And then his hand followed her hair down.
The long silky bleach blonde hair was nothing that he had felt before.
You could see the look of astonishment on his face.
Of curiosity.
Of confusion.
He felt her hair and didn't know how to respond.
It was an amazing moment.
One that I will never forget.
My eyes focused outward.
To the most beautiful thing I ever saw.
A mother weeping.
Sobbing.
She was gazing down at her precious little boy.
She was overwhelmed with emotion.
Her little boy is someone who wasn't considered a human in their culture.
Just a cast away.
Nobody worth acknowledging.
The last person who should have been noticed in the room.
But here we were.
Giving him the attention that he deserved.
Acknowledging the fax of how he sees with his hands.
Through a translator we were told:
That nobody had given her son a second look.
Let alone pay any attention to him.
The fact that we had taken the time to allow him to feel special.
It touched her heart.
This is one of the happiest moments of my life.
The realization that a difference really could be made in this world.
That it didn't take big gestures to change a life.
It took noticing someone.
Giving them your time.
Not anything materialistic.
This was the happiest day of my life.
Because I saw so much joy in the suffering.
It gave me hope.
Such hope that cannot be taken away.
It was the happiest moment because I knew I had found my life's calling.
I needed to help change lives.
I needed to change the world.
My emotions were still soaring from the hours before.
I had just spent my time with some of the most remarkable people I think I will ever meet.
I was at the Mother Teresa home.
A massive building catered to people suffering with every type of illness and need out there.
Ethiopia, Africa.
What a place to be.
The building where we had just held orphan babies, played with children of AIDS, prayed with people dying of TB.
The people who worked there were incredible.
Loving the unloveable of Africa.
All those who society deemed unworthy of being; were accepted at this place.
Where people who needed love and acceptance discovered the unconditional love of the Father and could bathe in it.
The disabled who are openly ridiculed found a place of refuge.
Found a place where they could be helped instead of being seen as worthless.
What a magical place.
So my emotional state entering our next location was perfect.
I was ready.
I was ready to take on the world.
Our next stop was a feeding program.
My first thought was: this is a disappointment.
Our last location was so magical and now this.
We pulled up.
We did our routine that we did at every single location we went to.
A couple dances, some speaking and a skit or two.
I was on autopilot.
My heart wasn't really there.
But then something caught my eye.
One of the leaders was sitting with a boy out in the crowd.
What caught my eye was the smile on this little boy's face.
What was going on?
After a quick assessment of the situation I realized that this little boy was blind.
Jeff was allowing this little boy to touch his face.
I connected the two and realized that this was this little boy's method of communication.
His face lit up.
He was perplexed.
You could tell that he hadn't felt a face of this nature before.
I realized that the hair on Jeff's head wasn't as course as African hair.
Or the same texture in the slightest.
This little boy was experiencing for the first time, this new sensation.
I couldn't ever forget the face of this little boy.
How elated he was.
Like he was seeing Disneyland for the first time.
Jeff then called his daughter over.
Her long silky hair went down past her navel.
I knew.
I didn't think it was possible.
But I saw the little boys face light up even more.
What a strange thing he was feeling.
He felt her face.
And then his hand followed her hair down.
The long silky bleach blonde hair was nothing that he had felt before.
You could see the look of astonishment on his face.
Of curiosity.
Of confusion.
He felt her hair and didn't know how to respond.
It was an amazing moment.
One that I will never forget.
My eyes focused outward.
To the most beautiful thing I ever saw.
A mother weeping.
Sobbing.
She was gazing down at her precious little boy.
She was overwhelmed with emotion.
Her little boy is someone who wasn't considered a human in their culture.
Just a cast away.
Nobody worth acknowledging.
The last person who should have been noticed in the room.
But here we were.
Giving him the attention that he deserved.
Acknowledging the fax of how he sees with his hands.
Through a translator we were told:
That nobody had given her son a second look.
Let alone pay any attention to him.
The fact that we had taken the time to allow him to feel special.
It touched her heart.
This is one of the happiest moments of my life.
The realization that a difference really could be made in this world.
That it didn't take big gestures to change a life.
It took noticing someone.
Giving them your time.
Not anything materialistic.
This was the happiest day of my life.
Because I saw so much joy in the suffering.
It gave me hope.
Such hope that cannot be taken away.
It was the happiest moment because I knew I had found my life's calling.
I needed to help change lives.
I needed to change the world.
