Voices of the Children
I am the child of an age where compassion is a thing out of faery tales and the modern warrior has one aim: to kill. Countries have the power to annihilate the entire world, and every day, my brothers and sisters die in a violent world. But, I do not think we are beyond hope. Home is the one force that drives me forward in this violent world. I have hope that my generation can live with the understanding, commitment and compassion that comes from serving others.
This summer, I had an amazing opportunity. I had the chance to go to Costa Rica and live with a family while helping a small mountain village. When I first went to Costa Rica, I was afraid. I was certain my host family would not be able to understand me, because my Spanish was, and still is, fairly limited. I was also quite certain the marks of the trip would be a finished kitchen, a fleeting tan, maybe a few good friends outside of Idaho and improved Spanish.
For two weeks, my friends and I labored under the hot tropical sun. We mixed endless batches of cement, laid concrete blocks under the careful tutelage of our amazing foreman, and painted a mural of the entire world on one wall. We put in hours of sweat, and in a few cases, blood. But, what we took away was so much greater.
Living with my Costa Rican family was like living with any family. My host mom and dad truly loved me, and were concerned for my well being. My host mom showed her love through food, just like my mom at home. My host dad worked hard, coming in every morning with a smile on his face, and ready to work hard. On one occasion, when I had a small incident with two other group members, and broke down crying afterward, my host dad was one of the first people there, asking if I was alright. Their grandchildren (there were at least three around at all times) reminded me so much of kids here. The five-year-old was silly, and would tease me, yelling tickles, then running away. And, the eleven-year-old boys were just like my eleven year old brother here!
Being with my Costa Rican family reminded me about things I have always believed. It reminded me we are all someone’s children, someone’s brother, sister, or cousin, someone’s friend. Sometimes, it is difficult to have compassion for a total stranger, but for your child, your sibling or cousin, or your friend, it is easier to be patient, compassionate and understanding. You are more willing to extend the effort to someone you care about, or at least know about.
I believe that if people make an effort to learn about other’s cultures and walks of life, the world can find some healing. I pray my generation learns from the mistakes of history, and that we make a move toward diplomacy, international aid, justice, and compassion. I hope we will see our fellow human beings as our brothers and sisters, not as sterotypes, objects, or worst of all: enemies. It is not difficult for a child to walk the path of compassion. Smile at a stranger. Offer to help someone out. Learn about another culture or way of life.
Maybe, I’m spinning my own faery tales, now, but with a little effort from everyone, a better world will not be something out of faery tale. With a little love, a little hope, a little understanding, a little patience, a little mercy, a little compassion, and a little work, we will change the world so violence is an unpleasant memory, like the taste of something bitter which can dissipate with the taste of something sweet.