I wanted to write something about hunger, AIDS and the innocent children of the world—easy for me to do! After all, I just finished eating a selection of lightly-steamed veggies with salsa. Sure, I can pontificate about hunger! I don’t want to talk about hunger, I want to do something to change it. I don’t want to talk about ending AIDS, Malaria, or a disease yet to be named, I want to do something. So, the purpose of blogging about this today? Maybe, just maybe, you’ll join me on the journey to look at the world’s population as brothers and sisters. Perhaps we can leave the safety of our little corner of the world and venture out to see how the majority of people live.

I am not advocating vacationing only in third world countries (although some of my best experiences came from those so-labeled destinations). I am encouraging you to set aside your usual views and adopt the eyes of a child–full of wonder, full of awe, full of curiosity, with an absence of bias.

 When I was 10 years old my parents took me on a cruise (definitely not in the “hunger and impoverished category”). We went to Guadaloupe for a day and I was fascinated. For starters, I could practice my French (How about “J’ai un chien–I have a dog”–talk about being a multi-lingual diva!). I looked forward to spending a day on the beach, swimming, sunning, and attempting to reach China one shovelful of sand at a time. As we left the port area, I saw some cardboard boxes– well not exactly boxes–more like pieces of cardboard laced together covering walls made of corrugated tin. Was this someone’s playhouse? Maybe it was meant to be a kind of tree house but the creator didn’t have a tree so he just put it by the road? Wouldn’t it be fun to have a little toy house like this one? Daddy, can I? This was not a toy, I was told; this was a home for a family–a place where a mom and dad and lots and lots of kids and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles lived—day in and day out. This was not a toy. It was “Home Sweet Home”.

I share this with you because almost 50 years ago I saw this home and, not knowing it at the time, that vision planted a seed that grew into my passion to experience the world and to meet my many brothers and sisters wherever I go. I wish I could say that experience caused me to abandon my “I want this…mommy, buy me…” syndrome—it did not. I was not about to give up my toy electric stove and my Betsy Wetsy—no way! However, my world grew bigger, my perspective shifted.

It’s been years since my first memory of how the rest of the world lives and I have seen a myriad of housing types that stretch the gamut from the flush (try the palaces in St. Petersburg, Russia) to abject poverty (slums of South Africa and Kenya). Children near Borabudur in Indonesia (www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borobudur) were begging for me to buy something or to just give them some coins. Our tour guide warned us against encouraging this “annoying” behavior, that we needed to look down and keep our hands and our money in our pockets. I’m ashamed to admit I followed the “rules”–that is, until I finally gave in and bought a huge paper fan, maybe three feet long. I thought I drove a hard bargain and paid only $10 USD for this treasure. Later, I learned I had overpaid by about $9 USD, but had I really overpaid? Yes, I did cause a small swarm of children to plaster themselves against our bus hoping for another “sucker” (our viewpoint, not theirs!). Was I a sucker or was I just doing something to help the hungry, the poor? Wouldn’t I do that for my brother or sister at home? Then why wouldn’t I do it in Indonesia?

I carried that unwieldy fan all the way home (would I make it through security today with that fan?). I proudly displayed the fan above my credenza at our office. I told many people the story of the fan. Maybe someday I can just do something kind without the chest-thumping? I hope so.

So, what am I DOING today to help the world’s children who are prey to poverty and disease? Right now, I’m writing in the hopes that you will be touched to stop along your journey, reach out, give a smile, even a hug. Twice, on visits to Kenya, I’ve made time to go to Makuru, a sprawling slum outside of Nairobi. I played, I sang, I laughed, I hugged and I left with my heart tugging me to stay. (www.americashare.org) I’ve visited an orphanage for children whose parents have died of AIDS and who were also infected with HIV. Once again, I played, I sang, I laughed, I hugged and I left with my heart tugging me to stay.  And want to know something? As heart-breaking as that type of experience can be, I’ve noticed I felt uplifted, full of hope. These children imbued me with their joy, their faith and their innocence.

I don’t have the wealth of some very prominent people who’ve made the headlines with their generosity and help for the suffering children. All I have is the opportunity to travel and the time to stop, to smile and to hug. I can’t change the world—I can change how I relate to it. Won’t you join me?