Lakshmi

When I met our sponsor child Linet last year in Uganda, I gave her a set of simple beaded bracelets. I had the same pair on. I told her every time I wore them, I would think of her.

I grabbed one of the bracelets from my jewelry box (okay, it’s a piece of tupperware…I am SO fancy) and slipped it on my wrist at the last moment before heading to the airport last week.

Part of me wanted to keep it on to remember Linet, remember the Uganda trip, and remember how much I’ve been changed since that trip.

Yet a little voice spoke to me when I slipped it on and said, “You’ll know when to give this away.”

And on my arm it has stayed since we’ve arrived.

Officially, I’m the “videographer” on this trip…so, most of my time is spent behind a camera catching moments and stories as the bloggers interact with the children. I realized yesterday I hadn’t really had a chance to just play with them like I did last year.

This afternoon, we were making some home visits (where our group visits the home of a Compassion child to meet their family and experience their life as best as we can in half an hour). As I walked behind the group, trying to get footage of the neighborhood, one of the girls we were visiting, Lakshmi, came up to me and grabbed my hand.

I leaned over to say hi, and she whispered back with a big, bright smile,

“You’re beautiful.”

One of the points of these trips is for us to simply love on the kids. So we can tell them how worthy they are and how beautiful they are.

Not the other way around.

My heart crumbled.

We entered her home, learned all about her, her family, her life. She wants to be a doctor. And I have no doubt some day she will. She’s sharp, and witty, and her family was close and emotionally supportive.

As I went to hug Lakshmi, I slipped the beaded bracelet off my wrist and on to hers. Her eyes lit up.

“This is for me?”

“Yes…I have one like it at home, and when I wear it, I’ll think of you.”

“Are you sure it’s for me?”

“Absolutely.”

Before we left her home, I put down the camcorder so we could play and talk just a little more.

I did not want to leave this girl.

My friend Spence took some pictures of us…and needless to say, Lakshmi had a little surprise for me too.

We posed, all smiles, and at the last minute, she leaned in to give me a big kiss on the cheek.



In the Indian culture, from what I understand, this is a sentiment of trust and deep friendship. Most people in this culture are quite physically reserved when it comes to showing affection.

I was shocked…and literally, about to lose what little composure I had left.

We took one more photo, and went outside to take some group shots.



As we left the house, both of her parents bowed on their knees to us, kissing their fingers and then placing them on each of our feet. In the Hindu culture, this is a sign of a mutual blessing…we have honored them by our visit, and they hope they have honored us by their hospitality.

Spence was over by a rickshaw (what Lakshmi’s father drove for his employment) and I walked over to him with tears in my eyes.

(Side note: I don’t cry. Marley and Me? Nothing.)

“Spence, I can’t leave here. I just can’t.”

He gave me a hug and I tried to compose myself for the photos.

Lakshmi grabbed on to me again, and pulled me down by her in the group photos. She took hold of Angie with the other hand and after a few minutes of picture taking, it was time for us to go.



Hand in hand, we walked a quarter of the mile from her house back to the Compassion project.

It was time to say goodbye.

She tapped on my shoulder and had me lean down close to her again. She gave me a big kiss on the cheek, and repeated her first words to me.

“You’re beautiful.”

I kissed her cheek back and told her the same. I told her I knew she would be a doctor one day. I played with her bracelet on her wrist and reminded her I’d be thinking of her when I returned home.

And as I type this from my hotel desk, overlooking the traffic of Kolkata, my eyes are again filled with tears.

There are millions of children in this world that need hope. That need help.

We can’t change a million lives. But we can change one.

One beautiful child. With a beautiful smile. With a beautiful soul.

And now, one with a beaded bracelet.

[This article originally appeared at FlowerDust.net while Anne was in India, April 09. Used with Permission.]

2 Comments »

1. Incredibly touching.  Left me with tears running down my face.  Great post.

   Comment by Q. - Jul 15, 2009 @ 12:06 PM

2. Just so Lovely

   Comment by Beryl - Jul 15, 2009 @ 04:29 PM

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