I was surrounded from all sides with children staring intently on the task that fell so heavily upon my heart. Their faces were like open books seeking the chance to be read and understood. Each face pleaded with my soul and cried out for someone, anyone to be attentive to the need that has been ignored their whole lives. If it had been an adult it would have been seen as pathetic or annoying but because children were the owners of this so prevalent need, their sincerity could not be ignored. I was their glimmer of hope and their outstretched hands portrayed that sentiment perfectly. There was no turning away, no room for excuses, and nothing more important than the task ahead. I was determined and committed!
My hands ached as the edges of this hope fulfilling instrument pressed against my skin. The pain was a clear sign for me to cease, but there were more important things at that moment than blisters and bruises. I scraped and scraped, giving everything I had for even one more piece, one more ever so desired piece. Every time I considered giving up all I would have to do is lift up my moistened brow upon those ever so present faces to know that it was not an option.
As I filled the empty hands of each child joy erupted in their very beings. They had been noticed, they had been understood, they had been loved, but most of all, they had been fed.
It is amazing what a simple scoop of burnt to the bottom of a pan, crusty rice can do!
