What Matters
I’m sitting on the floor. My DreamBox is packed. And I’m decorating the lid.
A group of us (many who were at Camp GLP) have gathered together for the evening to fill these small boxes with toys, school supplies, and other treasures. They’ll be sent around the world to children in foster homes and refugee camps.
On the inside of the lids we add a personal touch — crafting a fun design and including a photo of our families.
We’re having a good time.
It’s easy to see the whole project is a small thing. It’s a way for me to feel good about “helping”. All we’re doing is packing boxes. The contents are simple and inexpensive.
And yet, each box is a gift. A gift from one human being to another. A gift that tells a child, “I see you. I care about you.”
Sometimes, that’s all that matters.
—
The next day, I’m sitting on a chair as a little boy next to me searches through his DreamBox.
We’re having a pizza party at one of the SOS Villages (a supportive community for foster children). And we’ve personally delivered a batch of DreamBoxes.
It’s like Christmas morning with everyone opening their boxes all at once. What’s inside? Wow! Look at this! Is this for me? Oh, cooool! Check out this toy airplane. Hey, balloons too!
A few moments later, the boy finishes dumping out everything from his box and is playing with his new airplane. We chat, exchange names and share about each other.
At one point he turns to me and says, “I like you.” Simple. Matter of fact.
It’s easy to dismiss it as a small thing. It’s a simple statement.
But it’s a gift to me. To be seen. To connect however briefly… one human being to another.
Sometimes, that’s all that matters.
—
On the way home, I reflect on the weekend.
Perhaps it’s just another event. It happened, and now I’ll move on with life.
After all, I find it so easy to get lost in the rush of life sometimes. Working hard. Striving for goals and dreams. Growing as a person. Learning new skills. Even serving others.
I find it easy to forget that I’m serving and interacting with human beings — people who are inherently valuable, individuals with dreams, fears and hopes.
Weekends like these draw me back. They remind me how important such connections with people are…
… sharing a meal with family…
… playing with my daughter…
… giving a gift of love…
… greeting a stranger with a smile…
… offering a small act of kindness…
… serving just one person…
Life happens in these exchanges of humanity — touching another person, letting them touch you.
And sometimes, that’s all that matters.
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PS: Thank you so much Denise for putting on the weekend and Evan for inviting me.