Dear God,

I know I have been coming to you allot lately for many different things; manly my health. But, today right now, I want to talk about something else. I know there are thousands of children that Compassion helps every day, but a good portion doesn’t have sponsors. It saddens me to think that those kids go to bed each night not knowing if they were loved. Lord, you know I love my sponsored kids with a passion. I think of them on a daily basis. I even know what time it is where they live! I know that Bolivia and I have the same time zone so I always think “Its 7 A.M. here. I wonder what Abraham or Brayan are doing right now.” And I know in the Philippines its exactly 12 hours ahead. So Mark is probably getting ready for tomorrow as it is 7 pm there. And I always think of things to send them and I never imagined how much something so simple like a birthday card would mean so much to someone in Ethiopia. It amazes me. I wish that every child that Compassion helps would feel the same way my kids do. I hear from Mark’s mom just saying “Thank you for helping my son” in every letter over and over again. And Mekdelawit said “I love you” and it brought tears to my eyes. And Abraham calls me his sister and always says I love you. Lord, I know the difference that compassion makes in the lives of these kids, and you know the difference as you are the cornerstone for their ministry. Lord, I wish people could see the difference that Compassion makes. Ever since I got Roopa’s last letter and I only sponsored her for 6 months before she graduated and I could hear the sadness and the impact I made on her life. And before that Lord, to be honest, I didn’t think I made much of an impact. I felt that my words were just that; Just random words on a piece of paper. I didn’t think that I had made a difference. I know every sponsor probably feels that every now and then but I really kept thinking “What is the point of sponsoring kids? Am I really making an impact?” and in Roopa’s own handwriting she said “Yes.” No translation was needed for that. I read that and I cried. I burst into tears. It mattered to her. I mattered to her. And she didn’t want to leave me but she was too old for compassion. She never called me her sponsor, I was always her friend. I really wish people would see that it’s more than a check for 38 dollars a month. Because of my words, Abraham is more open. He would be very shy in his first letters and he wouldn’t say much. But, because I told him that every time I read his words, I pray for him, and I respond to everything he says. Even if he talks about his ducks, I talk about his ducks. He is the only kid I know that not only owns ducks, but loves ducks. J It makes me laugh. Lord, I am hurting that he is sad that his brother is in the military and I pray every night that you would protect Alfredo and that when his military duties are done, he will come home and it will make Abraham very happy. And people ask me, “How do I know the letters are written by the child?” Easily, every letter Abraham writes he writes “Dear Kimmy” because that is how I end every letter. It’s not what Compassion calls me. They call me Kimberly. And he prays for my brothers and sisters by name. He says that he wishes me and my sister Victoria wouldn’t fight. (She moved so I am ok now. J ) And he even prays for Kaylie. Even though he spells her name wrong it just gives me that added knowledge that even misspellings and grammar mistakes means it’s a 14 year old kid in high school writing it rather than a teacher with the IQ of 145. I can’t forget the letter I got and he wrote it all backwards and the translation reflected that. And I had to figure out real quick how to read Spanish to understand him. J Please, Lord, please give these children sponsors, so that more people can have stories just like mine. J

In your name I pray,


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