Transformation: Be part of the story

Part of my week in San Antonio included short “minute for missions” presentations in church.  I’m seeing so many good stories, so much evidence of God’s hand in the midst of hard situations, that I figured on just reading a few of those stories. I started scribbling notes on colorful index cards I would wave at the congregation as I read them.

But on Friday I got a letter that totally changed my tack.  My sponsored child, Rani from Bangladesh, wrote a short 5-6 sentence note in reply to a letter I’d sent about two months ago. Rani is about 15 years old; I know that she struggles a bit with school and her health has been rated as “fair” by FH staff. She asks for a lot of prayer to pass her exams.

But this time, she said she had prayed for MY family.

Re-reading

Here’s a great story I ran into last night:

A young woman from a poor mountain village obtains a prime domestic position in the big city.  She’s been caring for her five-year-old niece for several years, but can’t take her to this new job.  So she dumps the child on her grandfather, an old man known for his meanness and misspent youth.  The old man lives in a bare-bones shack far from the village, where he keeps two goats that provide his major protein source and a little extra cash to buy bread and dried meat.  He lives in isolation from humankind and in self-exile from God.  His granddaughter sleeps on a bed made from hay and a piece of sack cloth for a cover.  Their nearest neighbor is a widow with a young son, living with a blind grandmother. Their house is literally falling down around their ears because they have no one strong enough to do the repairs.  The little girl makes friends with them, however, and eventually convinces her grandfather to come out of his shell to pound a few nails into key support spots in the house.

Where does this story take place?