This I Believe

I believe in the goodness of giving to a child, especially when that child’s parents aren’t in a position to help him, despite their love for him.

For roughly 15 years, I have been sponsoring children through Christian Children’s Fund. I have been blessed to have found Mithun Sardar, an adorable boy who came to me by mail from the depths of Calcutta, India. When I first saw his picture, my heart melted. Despite his poverty, his boyish innocence was apparent on his still, shy face, a testament to the fact that happiness exists in his world. Mithun v I’ll call him my son v has the most giving, wonderful heart of any boy I know. He writes me loving letters addressed to (My Dear Foster Mother,) and signed, (Your Loving Son.) The first time I read that last phrase I wept great big tears. You see I am in my forties, divorced and without children. Due to an unfortunate confluence of events which only God can explain v and redeem v my maternal instinct hit late, at age forty, and at that point my marriage was in the process of breaking up and my father was dying.

I remember one day v just one day in my life v looking down and patting my stomach as the epiphany hit me that I v I, who had never wanted children, could, might, have a child. I grinned the biggest maternal grin anyone could imagine. Alas, since then, the years have passed and I haven’t yet had children. So Mithun, whose picture is propped up on my dining room table with great pleasure, occupies that place in my heart that belongs to my unborn children. He is special to me, priceless. This little boy will never know, because I can’t express in either English or Murati, the joy he returns.

Recently my naturopath told me of a product called Omega Joy. It’s a natural mood-lifter. I burst out laughing: (Oh,) I said. (Omega, like the Alpha and the Omega, the God of my universe.) Mithun is my Omega Joy.

Across the miles in his village made of sand and rubble, I smile at him and wish and wonder. And in the same way that my sponsorship allows him to put sandals on his feet and schoolbooks in his hand, it equally allows me to dream of a better time and place when I will be happier and my void will be filled.

I may never see Mithun or visit his impoverished village in Calcutta. But I believe he knows I love him, that I’m thinking of him, and that I’m offering him up my prayers. Amidst a lifetime of regret and a river of tears, I wish my foster son well and hope he finds the happiness I so long for.

Giving is wondrous and joyful and creates magic in this world. Giving is good. In this I believe.