In a Hong Kong Moment…
So I am sitting here in the Hong Kong airport, looking out at the downtown, smoggy skyline, thanking the Lord for free wireless so I can Skype my husband back in Canada, and thinking about how the world of airports is a crazy reflection of the global village in which we live. I have had a Starbucks at every stop on my journey since leaving Toronto: Toronto, Edmonton, Vancouver, Hong Kong and later today in Bangkok. I have seen Burger King signs everywhere, and KFC abounds. I am looking out the window at the planes, trains, and automobiles, and giggling to myself about how this could literally be anywhere on earth and still look relatively familiar. How strange it is that for as many differences as we all have, there are so many things that we have in common.
Tonight I will get into Chiangsaen with my Hero Holiday group, and we will be spending the next 10 days working with kids that have been rescued out of slavery, sexual exploitation, and even warfare and violence. Their world consists of being thankful that they are safe and knowing that they are cared for. Some of them have faced unbelievable violence and pain: some have been repeatedly raped since they were young, some were beaten almost beyond recognition, and some come from so much hurt that is almost beyond my comprehension. Will we make a difference? I hope so…
What does it really mean to make a difference, anyways? Does it mean that people have to stop and take notice that something dramtic has happened, or is it as simple as kindness, affection, and security? We seem to always look for the big earth shattering moments that make us feel like we have contributed (or maybe I am the only person that wrestles with this) and yet it is often the simplest of kindnesses that can change a life and destiny. This is why I have never understood the concept of ‘racism’; because when all is stripped away, we truly still are of the human race, and therefore to hate our brother or sister is essentially to hate ourselves.
As I was standing in the foodcourt a few moments ago, I was thinking this. Liz, one of the girls with me, and I were ordering our food, and two American guys behind us started talking to us and asking us what we were doing in Hong Kong. As soon as we looked at them, we both got a weird vibe…what were they doing was more the question. I told them what we were on our way to Thailand to do, and they said they just came back from Bangkok, and were just there for a ‘good time’…a good time? At who’s expense? I stood there wrestling with myself: do I judge them at what I think they were there doing, or do I give them the benefit of the doubt and let it go. I let it go. I walked away and couldn’t decide whether I was at peace with myself in that moment or not. Where is the middle ground between the truth and the soap box that I am tempted to jump on and start screaming from?
I don’t know what those guys were doing in Bangkok- I mean I think I know, but I am pre-judging them by assuming anything. However, there is something to be said about the reality of how we are all connected. On the inside flap of Vaden’s book, we talk about how each one of the stories are really stories about our mothers and fathers, our sisters and brothers, and even our children. Every time someone hurts someone, they are in essence, hurting their own families. Every time a child or woman is exploited, it is like exploiting ourselves, as we are all connected. We are all of the same family line, and blood needs to be thicker than water.
So, again, I ask myself, ‘what does it mean to make a difference’? And today, I am realizing that every time I choose to honor someone about myself, every time I reach out in compassion wherever I am, every time I remind people about the eternal significance of their lives, I am making a difference. I am more than the sum of my feelings: I am a light that can shine brightly wherever I find myself…
“I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world.“
Mother Theresa