When a hurricane touched down in a small town nearby, many families were left devastated. Afterward, all the local newspapers carried many human interest stories featuring some of the families who suffered the hardest. One Sunday, a particu


lar picture especially touched me. A young woman stood in front of a totally demolished mobile home, an anguished expression twisting her features. A young boy, seven or eight years old, stood at her side, eyes downcast. Clutching at her skirt was a tiny girl who stared into the camera, eyes wide with confusion and fear. The article that accompanied the picture gave the clothing sizes of each family member. With growing interest, I noticed that their sizes closely matched ours. This would be a good opportunity to teach my children to help those less fortunate than themselves.
I taped the picture of the young family to our refrigerator, explaining their plight to my seven-year-old twins, Mohammad and Abdullah , and to three-year-old Ayesha. "We have so much, and these poor people now have nothing," I said. "We'll share what we have with them."








I brought three large boxes down from the attic and placed them on the living room floor. Ayesha watched solemnly as the boys and I filled one of the boxes with canned goods and other nonperishable foods, soap and other assorted toiletries. While I sorted through our clothes, I encouraged the boys to go through their toys and donate some of their less favorite things. Ayesha watched quietly as the boys piled up discarded toys and games. "I'll help you find something for the little girl when I'm done with this," I said.

The boys placed the toys they had chosen to donate into one of the boxes while I filled the third box with clothes. Ayesha walked up with Fulla, her worn, faded, frazzled, much-loved rag doll hugged tightly to her chest. She paused in front of the box that held the toys, pressed her round little face into Fulla's flat, painted-on-face, gave her a final kiss, then laid her gently on top of the other toys. "Oh, Honey," I said. Ayesha nodded solemnly, eyes glistening withheld-back tears. "Fulla makes me happy, Mommy. Maybe she'll make that other little girl happy, too."








Swallowing hard, I stared at Ayesha for a long moment, wondering how I could teach the boys the lesson she had just taught me. For I suddenly realized that anyone can give their cast-offs away. True generosity is giving that which you cherish most. Honest benevolence is a three-year-old offering a treasured, albeit shabby doll to a little girl she doesn't know with the hope that it will bring this child as much pleasure as it brought her.
I, who had wanted to teach, had been taught.

If I fasted everyday for the rest of my life, I still wouldn't feel the amount of suffer I see in this picture

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